Page 130 of Against The Tide

“Lay it all on me?” My finally steadying pulse hikes up again as I let him take my hand and watch him study the blood on it.

“We met up this morning to go over what Callie and I managed to dig up on the information your father left.” He takes a deep breath before he adds, “I know he wanted to make sure you were calm and easy before he told you, but it’s too late. And I can’t have you walking around without knowing the danger you’re in. Not after this afternoon.”

“I thought Kayla was taken care of.”

“She is, and Carl…he was found last night. There was no sign of a break-in or a struggle, just a bullet to the head.”

Shock and grief are the last emotions I would expect to feel right now. It doesn’t make sense that I hated Carl so much—that I still do—and yet, fresh tears prick at my eyes. Maybe it’s relief that finally his evil has caught up with him. Or maybe it’s the realization that this is it. I’m free of him and his demons. The longer I analyze it, I feel the loss and the anxiety of having to tell Iris that her father is gone, and it makes me feel sick. It fills me with dread, and I can’t help but recall wishing him a miserable end. Wishing that he was dead to his face.

“Coffee from the machine is shit, but I need something to warm me up right about now.” Rowan guides me back into the hospital lobby and straight for the hot drinks machine.

Sitting me down in the row of seats beside it, he gets us both a black coffee that we nurse between both our hands as he tells me more about their findings.

“The reason the feds came looking for you was because your father was taken out before he could hand them over the information he had.”

“What would Callie say if she heard you making excuses for them?”

A low scoff tips his lips up into a grin before he sobers slightly and says, “This once, even Callie will tell you that the agents were trying to look out for something other than their investigation.”

“And yet, they let Kayla get close enough to hurt Rhett.”

“They weren’t expecting her.”

“Who were they expecting, then?”

The way his face falls and he holds me with his stare promises the blow before it hits. Still, I’m staggered when he tells me, “Michael.”

The initial shock of his statement has me bursting out with a high-pitched laugh that makes me look around nervously to make sure that we’re not a spectacle. There’s no one around barring the couple of security guys and another person sitting close to the corridor that leads to the restrooms. Maybe I wasn’t that loud because he’s still reading his newspaper rather than gawking at me like the security.

The surprise wears off, and all I can manage is, “No.”

“Avery—”

“No, Rowan. No.” No matter how hard I shake my head, he doesn’t backtrack. If anything, the look on his face takes on a certainty that not even I can doubt. “He’s family. He’s… No…they were friends. Partners. Mike… No… No, no, no…” My protest fades, turning into a “Why?”

“The short of it? Freedom…money…”

Then it hits me like the heaviest ton of bricks. I can barely breathe, let alone speak.

“I called him this morning. I called him. Oh my God…” I clutch at my mouth, trying to mute my scringing cry. “Rhett knew. He knew all along, and he asked me to trust him. He asked me not to say anything and now…now…”

“Now we know who’s responsible, we can end this for good.”

“I told him about the file this morning.” My limbs are trembling, and I can’t force myself to sit down any longer. Getting up, I put the coffee in my hand down on the metal armrest before I stand in front of Rowan. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I panicked. The agents were following me and…and I tried to call Rhett. I tried to call him and Callie. I tried, but they didn’t answer, and I was scared.”

Rowan nods, his usual light demeanor gone, and while I know I’m safe with him—he’s a good guy, and I don’t doubt that one bit—my pulse still hammers so fast that my head begins to swim. The back of my throat dries up and swells to the point that my vision starts to spot.

“You trusted Michael, and he let you down. That’s his bad, not yours.” Wrapping an arm around me, Rowan hugs me to him. It’s not tight or hard but soothing nonetheless. “You ready to go back upstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I doubt it’s this God’s gift Doc will want to see first thing he wakes up.” Rowan chuckles, and I can’t help but chuckle along with him. It’s hoarse and shaky, but it’s my first tentative laugh in what feels like forever. “You should probably get cleaned up. They won’t let you into ICU all crusty.”

“It feels wrong to wash it off when⁠—”

“Believe me, I know that feeling, and while washing it off doesn’t change anything…it won’t make you feel any less responsible or…”

“I feel as guilty as the people that hurt him are. I should’ve seen it that day he came to visit and he got so mad at me for looking into my dad.”