Page 188 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
“Gideon.”
“Hey, kid.”
Kid. Wonder if you'd still call me that if you found out what I’ve done with your daughter.
He picked at his Timberlands, a far cry from the billionaire who never left the house in anything that cost less than a house mortgage. “I take it you’re talking to Emery if she gave you access to her email?”
“I’m more than talking to Emery.”
My Durga.
I never really gave much thought to Fate, but every time I considered how hard the world must have worked to get our paths to intersect so many different ways, I became a believer.
A war brewed within Gideon’s eyes as if he’d considered punching me before the yearning won. He missed his daughter. So obvious, a glass window would be less transparent.
“How is she?”
I rested a forearm on my bent knee. “She’s trouble.”
“Always was. When she was eight… and you were an adult,” he slid in, “I used to think she’d burn the world down with a smile on her face and good intentions.”
“Still could.” I tossed the sandwich to the crow.
Another landed.
You eavesdropping, Dad?
I wiped my palms on my sweats. Dad would give me shit if he caught me here in any of the overpriced suits that filled my closet, so I'd stopped by Nike for a pair of joggers. He’d still kill me for these. They cost more than he used to make in a day.
Gideon toyed with a beer can I’d placed in front of Dad’s tombstone. “Has she seen Virginia?”
“I’m not here for idle chitchat.” I swiped the Budweiser from his palm and chugged it.
He yanked another can from the 6-pack and cracked it open. “Tell me about my daughter, and I’ll talk to you.”
“Talk to me, or I’ll tell the world where you’re at.”
“You’ve changed.”
“You changed me.”
“I did nothing, and I suspect you know that, or I’d be cradling a black eye right now.”
&
nbsp; True. True as fuck. I’d spent the past four years searching for Gideon, and now that I’d found him, I skirted around the damn questions.
Maybe I didn't want to know the answer, because everything about this felt off. Blithe Beach? The population couldn't fill Eastridge Prep’s football stands. Most maps left the place out, and despite the beach, it hardly constituted as a beach town.
Tourists didn’t go to places like this.
Billionaires didn't hide out in places like this either.
They flew to non-extradition countries and lived the rest of their lives in luxury. At the very least, anywhere but Blithe fucking Beach.
I emptied the can and crushed it. “Why Blithe Beach?”
“Hank mentioned Blithe a few times.” Gideon drank small sips of his beer. “He told me to escape here when the company collapsed. I figured it’d be a good place to settle down.”
