Chapter 20

Julian

Julian: Any updates?

I text Harper, then glance at Poppy. She's curled up, hugging my blanket tight to her as she sleeps.

Harper: The plane mechanics are MIA, but they all received a wire of two million each from an offshore account belonging to a guy named James Anderson. The media won't know this since it was all found off the record.

So, in other words, Andrew is getting away with it again for now.

Julian: Who's James Anderson?

Harper: Well, cowboy, that ' s the first puppet we've been able to find that can be linked to the Sinclair's.

A picture comes through; it's from a gala Oliver Sinclair threw for his campaign. I see Oliver, Andrew's father, with his arm around a man who I'm guessing is James Anderson. He's short and lean, with grey, balding hair—a perfect puppet dressed in a suit.

Julian: Can we get James Anderson in?

Harper: He's in China.

Julian: Fuck.

That means we can't extradite him.

Harper: Dan wants to see if we can get him off the record, but you know how dangerous that is.

It is. If we're caught, the Chinese government will wonder why the CIA is taking James, which could start a war. I think about Theo and how he would handle this. Would my brother worry or just act because he has friends in higher places?

I crack my neck. Should I text Theo? I feel like going to my brother will change my ethics, and once you blur a line, it can't ever be drawn straight again.

Harper: We're tracking the mechanics. We got footage of them boarding a boat, so we're trying to triangulate their GPS.

Even if we find them and they confess to being paid to mess with the plane, it would all lead back to this James Anderson and not the Sinclairs. We need Anderson, not the pawns. We have to nail the bigger figures if we want to cut the head off the snake.

Julian: Keep me updated.

A phone buzzes again, but this time it ' s not mine. I look over and see Poppy's phone gently buzzing with an incoming call.

Who's calling her at this hour?

I slip from bed, careful to make sure I don ' t wake her. Then I grab her phone. "Unknown" flashes on the screen.

My fist clenches around the phone. I ' m willing to bet my life this isn ' t a solicitor calling at two in the morning; more like the devil.

I slide out of bed and quickly walk down the hall to the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I ' m alone.

I press answer and wait. Silence. That is exactly what I ' d expect from a man like Andrew.

"Hello," I say.

More silence, but then he speaks. I know it ' s Andrew; he ' s growing desperate to take what ' s mine. I can't confirm it by his voice because he's using a voice distortion device.

"I know who you are," the prick says. I can hear the cocky smile on his lips. The fake voice sounds deep and scary, and I'm relieved I heard the phone and answered it instead of Poppy. She's scared enough as it is.

I walk further into my kitchen. "I know who you are, too; no need for dramatics, Andrew." My blood pressure is through the roof. I wish I could reach through the phone and kill him. "If you were a real man, you wouldn't need to hide, but you ' re not. You are just a scared, abused boy who thinks he found a toy he can claim as his. You never learned how to share in the sandbox; you never learned the rules, but I ' ll teach them to you. Oh, and Andrew," I chuckle, "if you think your daddy's lessons hurt you, then you have no idea what pain is when it comes in the form of my lessons." I smile, "You ' re never going to see Poppy again. I ' ll make sure of it."

Is provoking him wise? Maybe. I want this to end, so I need to poke him enough to come to me.

"She ' s mine!" He hisses. "I had her first."

"You raped her. You never had her, Andrew. You took. Guess what," I pause and relish in his seething anger. "I never had to take from her. She gave me everything. Willingly."

"You ' re a liar."

"No," I laugh. "I ' m not. Poppy loves me. Did she ever tell you that? Did you believe it when she said it, or did you have to scare her, threaten her to hear those words? You ' ve never heard those words willingly before, have you, Andrew?"

I don't let him speak, pressing the phone closer to my lips, "I would have felt bad for you, but that was all erased the first time you hurt her. There comes a time in everyone's life when you endure a situation that tests you; you either persevere and remain good, or you crumble and turn evil. I know your dad hurt you, but you chose to hurt others. You are your father."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yeah, you are," I reply calmly. You will never have Poppy's love. You will never be loved as long as you keep hurting people."

"She only let you fuck her because she misses me."

What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

"Keep telling yourself that," I snort. "Deep down, you know I'm right. That ' s why you called. That ' s why you killed your fiancée. You ' re scared and worried Poppy's forgetting about you. She is." I grin. "I ' m going to make sure Poppy never thinks about you, Andrew. There's a certain place in hell specifically designed for men like you, but until your time comes, there ' s a certain place here on earth where I will take you. You ' re going to be locked away, living life slowly. You will wake up every single day and think about this conversation. As time passes, you will fade from a nightmare to a memory in Poppy ' s mind. Then, one day, that memory is going to be replaced. Poof, you ' re nothing to her."

"What ' s that? No planned comeback?" I taunt him. "You see, Andrew, the time for planning has come to an end. If you think running to Daddy will help you, then you ' re wrong, Andrew." Right before I hang up, I tell him, "This is between you and me now. I hope you ' re ready."