My father nodded and walked past Ethan into the hallway.
When he disappeared, Ethan glanced at me, held out a hand. “Come, Sentinel. Let’s go hear what your father has to say.”
* * *
Malik and Morgan already waited in Ethan’s office. They rose to leave when we walked in, but Ethan motioned them down again, closed the door behind us. The three of us joined them in the sitting area.
“This pertains to Reed,” Ethan had said. “So it pertains to all of us. You should stay.”
My father looked at me. “I didn’t know Reed was a criminal,” he said again, then swallowed heavily. “I was on my way to Reed’s home. We’d been on the phone, and he said you’d just barged in. I told him I’d call your grandfather, and I did.”
Reed must have called him as soon as we hit the front door. That explained why Jacobs had shown up with the officers and how’d they’d gotten there so quickly.
“That’s when you left the message for me?” I asked.
He nodded. “I didn’t know everything then.”
Ethan frowned. “And what do you know now?”
“I saw the police escort you out. And when the police were gone, he went into the house.”
“He?” Ethan asked.
“The redhead.” My father paused. “Maguire. I’d seen him on the news. Knew my father was looking for him. Knew he’d accosted Merit.”
“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand. “You saw Jude Maguire walk into Adrien Reed’s house?”
“Only for a moment. He walked inside, couldn’t have been in there for more than a couple of seconds. Then he walked out again, slammed the door, got into his car. The white sedan.” He shook his head. “I thought Maguire was the perpetrator, the one who’d hired the vampires. I thought my father was wrong about Adrien. He’s a business partner, a friend. He wouldn’t hurt my family. He wouldn’t hurt my daughter.”
“You followed Maguire,” Ethan prompted.
My father nodded. “When I realized he was shadowing you, I called your grandfather, told them where you were, where to find you. And then I saw the Ferrari flip, and my heart stopped.” Eyes on me, his gaze darkened. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m all right,” I said quietly. My father and I didn’t get along, and weren’t especially close, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t sympathize with his fear for his child. My sister, the first Caroline, had died in a car accident that left my parents nearly unscathed. I’d been, or I’d always felt that I’d been, her replacement. It must have wrecked him to have witnessed the crash, to fear history would repeat itself and he’d lose another daughter—and his connection to that beautiful child he’d lost.
“You saw us,” Ethan said, “but you didn’t help?” There was a note of disapproval in his voice.
“By the time I got to the vehicles, Merit’s grandfather had arrived, and the ambulances.” My father looked down, clearly embarrassed, a rare condition for him.
“You were in good hands,” he continued after a moment, when his eyes had hardened again like chalcedony. “And I had other business. I went back to Reed’s house.”
I didn’t scare easily. Not anymore. But that scared me. “You went back? After what had happened? Why?”
“I told him I’d seen Maguire, that I knew who he was, that I’d seen what he tried to do to you and Ethan. Reed was cagey, but said you’d gone to his house to harass him, had probably led Maguire to his doorstep, and that security hadn’t let Maguire in.”
Convenient, and likely scripted by Reed just in case someone was watching, Ethan observed silently. He is very, very clever.
“This is our fault.”
We all looked at Morgan, saw the guilt etched in his face.
“If it wasn’t for her, for Navarre, you wouldn’t be in this position. None of you. Not if Celina had been satisfied with what she’d had. Not if she’d had any self-control.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I can sell the building. It must be worth something. Maybe that would take care of part of the debt. I could sell the art, the furnishings.”
“You don’t have to do that,” my father said. “It’s unnecessary.”
Ethan went very still. “What do you mean, Joshua?”
“I gave him Towerline.”
For a moment, I didn’t understand what my father had said, the implication of it. “What do you mean?”
“I gave Adrien Reed my interest in Towerline. In the investment, in the building.”
I was staggered. Baffled. Utterly bewildered by the act, the apparent sacrifice. I stood in silence for several long seconds—just trying to catch up with my raging emotions—before looking at my father again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. You paid off Adrien Reed?”
“He didn’t call it that.” His tone was dry. “Said it was a good-faith proffer against our future business.”
“I can’t say I’d recommend any future business with Adrien Reed,” Ethan said.
“I can’t say I disagree with you. The suggestion was his, but carefully couched, of course.” Talking about business seemed to return my father’s color, his poise. “But he said it settled the debt of the Navarre vampires, and he’d draw up the paperwork accordingly.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said. “My God, those two words are staggeringly insufficient, but they’re all I can think to say. Thank you.”
My father nodded.
“How much of a hit will Merit Properties take?” Ethan asked.
“Towerline was a . . . substantial investment. It’s a hit. We can recover, but not this year.”
I was still flummoxed, still trying to come to terms with the sacrifice my father had made, the fact that he’d simply handed over his pet project in order to keep me, us, safe. And that wasn’t all.
“I can’t believe Reed gave up so easily,” I said. “Not because the project isn’t worth a lot”—it was skyscrapers in Chicago, after all—“but because he’d be giving up Navarre House. Reed seems like the type who’d want to draw out the punishment as long as possible. Or, in this case, the extortion and loan-sharking.”
“He is tenacious,” my father said, and looked at Ethan. “He said something about the game not being done. He may be done with Navarre. But I suspect he isn’t done with vampires. And I would be very, very careful where Adrien Reed is concerned.”