Page 63 of His to Claim
And I shivered.
I found Randy in his kitchen, preparing two cups of tea, the dingy light over the sink showcasing another room full of clutter and debris. The stench reminded me of fried food and grease. I took shallow breaths before speaking. “I came back to Denver looking for my father.”
He didn’t bother acknowledging me, simply continuing his task. After he poured water in the two mugs, dunking both tea bags several times, he turned to face me. “Your father?”
I nodded, still uncertain of what to say.
“You have reason to believe he is in town?” He pointed to a pint of half and half, waiting until I shook my head before handing me a cup.
“I honestly have no idea. My mother barely mentioned him and only after I pressed for details. She said he was a criminal, a horrible person. I could see the hate in her eyes.”
He chuckled as he leaned against the counter. “Sounds like a love affair gone badly.”
“Don’t belittle this or my desire to find my father. He’s a part of my life, or at least I’d like to make him one. Trust me, Mr. O’Rourke, I’ve questioned my rationality and my judgment more than once, but the dreams have plagued me, the nightmares so intense that I’ve lost sleep for years.”
My God, the man was completely silent.
“I can see I made a mistake coming here and I apologize. Thank you for your hospitality.” I turned away, furious with myself.
“So, you admit you’re on a wild goose chase,” he finally said.
I held the cup in both hands, the warmth unable to take away the increasing chills. “Likely but this is something I have to do for myself, no matter the obstacles.”
“Why is it so important to you, Ms. Bridges? I can understand wanting to learn about your past, but you’ve given up a significant portion of your life in order to do so.”
“You can call me Vanessa.” I took a sip of the tea, savoring the flavor as I tried to rein in my anger. “You’re right, I have given up a hell of a lot. The truth is I’m honestly not certain why other than I’ve had dreams about him my entire life. Maybe I just need to understand my heritage. Maybe in my gut I know there are terrible secrets that a lot of people don’t want me to find out about. I’m tenacious, Mr. O’Rourke. Some would call me a dog with a bone. I will find answers.”
“Even if they’re not the ones you want to hear?” he asked, lifting his chin.
“Even if they aren’t, at least I’ll know the truth.” I eased the cup onto the only corner of the kitchen table uncluttered, reaching into my back pocket and retrieving my phone. I held it out, showing him the picture of my father. “This is really all I have of him.”
Randy hesitated before inching closer, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not much to go on. You’re certain he is from Denver?”
“My mother met him here. That much I do know. She took me away when I was little, claiming my father was a monster. There’s been no contact, no discussion about him, but obviously he exists.”
He took a gulp of his tea, the slurping sound floating into the room. “Last name Bridges?”
I shook my head slowly. “No, his name is or was Lucas Tremaine. I have every reason to believe he’s dead.”
I’d prepared myself for the fact that Randy likely wouldn’t recognize the picture or my father’s name. What I hadn’t even thought about was a complete one eighty, or the staggering reaction he had.
Jerking back, he darted a single glance in my eyes before walking around me and out of the room without saying a single word. Still, I could feel a heightened level of tension, even a hint of fear in the man. I trailed behind him, standing in the doorway to the living room. “You know my father, don’t you?”
He walked farther away from me, moving to the front of the large picture frame window, peeking through the closed blinds. “Did anyone follow you here?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
A strangled grunt pushed up from his throat, the sound in itself terrifying.
“Because, Ms. Bridges, if anyone knows who you are, you will be in danger.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, walking closer to him. My God, even his hand was shaking. “Wait a minute. You did know my father. Who is he? Is he still alive? Have you ever talked with him?”
He swallowed several times before taking a sip of his tea, liquid sloshing out over the side.
What in the hell was going on?
“Tell me!” I said in a more demanding tone, attempting to reel in my desperate need to find out what the hell was happening.