Page 36 of Connor's Claim
I didn’t usually drink on a work night, but this was cause for an exception. My mind was swimming so much from the conversation, I almost missed Cassie’s words.
“I said tell us more about ye,” she repeated. “I want an Everly bio.”
“Oh, um, I studied Public Administration for my degree, but part-time because I was working for my father. He was a councillor before running for mayor, and his campaigns were my life.”
“How about outside of work?” she asked.
I drew a blank. My personal interests had fallen away one by one when my workload ramped up. “Honestly, not much.”
“Okay,” she drawled. “Brothers and sisters?”
“None that I know of.” It was a joke, but an unfunny one. My humour had fled the building.
Then again, I actually did know the answer to that. My father didn’t conceal his habits from me. I’d know if he paid maintenance for another child he’d fathered, as Slaughter did. It couldn’t have escaped me. At least in that, I’d never felt concerned.
My breathing came a little easier. My father wasn’t a killer. It was laughable to even consider it. He wasn’t the kindest or easiest of men but he carried out a very busy public-facing role. Stress was part and parcel of the job. The weight of Cassie’s gaze brought me back to the present.
The young Scotswoman watched me, her head at an angle with her black curls forming a wedge. “Do ye like what ye do?”
“I’m good at it.”
“That’s no answer. Is it fun?”
I gave a short laugh. “Not really? I’ve never thought about it like that, but work is work. I’m happy to do a good job.”
My statement met a challenge I’d been dwelling on—I’d been content with my life when I knew Connor was living his, unaffected by my family. Now I suspected he wasn’t, all the busy schedules, endless meeting planning, and rushing around with no thanks weren’t fun at all.
I turned to Genevieve who’d been listening in with an expression of sympathy. “Did you find out anything about my father and Connor?”
She took a drink of the martini. “I asked Arran. He confirmed there is a deal in place but, and I quote, ‘If Everly wants details, she should ask Shade herself.’ He seemed to think he’d tell you.”
“He won’t. He really does hate me, I wasn’t joking about that.”
Genevieve’s soft smile faded. “That’s rough, I’m sorry.”
“I made it that way, so I have no one to blame.” A gutting statement, but true.
It took a back seat to a more prominent emotion.
The deal existed. I was right.
The minute I got Connor alone, I was going to get to the bottom of it for good.
Shouting sounded over the pulsing music, and Genevieve leaned to look over the silver railing to the dance floor below.
“It’s starting,” she said.
“What is?” I asked.
Cassie and I shuffled along the curved bench to peer down. Connor came into sight below, forcing his way through the crowd with Arran beside him, the two of them wrestling another man. Their prisoner had bruises that were visible even in the low light, and he staggered, favouring one leg like the other couldn’t bear his weight.
“Is that Convict? I never met him,” Cassie asked.
Genevieve nodded, her gaze locked on the action and her hand covering her mouth. “I knew this was going to happen, but it’s horrible to witness.”
Abruptly, the music stopped, and a hush sounded over the huge nightclub, the lights still swirling and Arran’s voice loud in the room.
“Listen up. Convict is no longer welcome on this property.” He tossed the man to the floor, the nearest clubgoers scuttling away with expressions of fear.