I turn to find Savage waiting on us. The elevator dings and the doors open to display two men, one of whom is my brother. The other, I don’t know.
“There you go, detective. Ask and you shall receive. Just what you were looking for. My two incestuous stepsiblings.”
I consider the merits of beating his face in right here and now, fuck the witnesses, but that’s the man in me thinking, the one that Harper rightly pointed out has emotions. I stomp them down and let the savant in me take over. No face beating. Not right now. Instead, my lips quirk. I have another plan for my brother. One I’ll enjoy far more than he will.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Eric
Isaac and the detective exit the elevator and to my surprise, Harper steps right into Isaac’s space and pokes his chest. “Do not say that to me again,” Harper snaps, responding to Isaac’s snarky “incestuous stepsiblings” remark. “We never lived together. It’s a title, one you didn’t mind every damn time you tried to get into my pants.”
My lips quirk and I catch her hand, pulling her back to me. “Easy, baby. Emotions are high right now.” I nod at the detective, a man in his mid-forties, wearing a blue suit with a black tie at half mast. He’s also sporting a three-day stubble that screams television cop. “Detective Rider, I assume,” I greet.
“I am,” he confirms. “And you’re Eric Mitchell. Good to see you by your father’s side.”
I smirk. “No one expects me to be by my father’s side. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
“And why is that?” he asks.
“Because I wasn’t his golden child like Isaac here.”
“Who inherits should your father die?” the detective replies.
“That’s a callous question,” Harper chimes in. “Has he taken a turn for the worse?”
“He’s the same as he was when he arrived,” the detective replies. “One foot in the grave and one out. I simply want to know who inherits, should both land in the dirt.”
“I’ve never been under the impression that I’m going to inherit,” I say. “Thus why I made my own money.”
“Why is that?” the detective asks.
“Because I hate him,” I say, seeing no reason to lie. “I don’t want anything that’s his.”
/> The detective arches a brow. “And yet you’re here?”
“He’s still the only living parent I have and I want to know why a strange man visited his room before he went down.”
“It was a heart attack,” Isaac snaps. “His visitors are not your business.”
“Not your ordinary visitor,” Savage interjects.
“Who the fuck are you?” Isaac snaps.
“I’m the guy who busts your chops,” Savage replies, “and happily lets the detective arrest me. Though if he spends much more time with you, he might just cheer me on. And for your information, smart guy, if the detective here believed it was just a heart attack, he wouldn’t be here.”
I eye the detective. “Unless he chooses random rich heart attack victims to visit and make feel special? Perhaps with a donation in mind?”
The detective scowls at me. “I want to know what really happened to your father. Someone standing in this circle knows.”
“And the doctor’s opinion means absolutely nothing,” Isaac replies. “Is that a new creative police protocol we should know about?”
“If you want to go with the doctor’s word,” the detective states, “then what does the man who visited his room matter?”
“Because,” Harper states, “if it was more than it seems, my mother could be a target.”
“You’ve always been melodramatic, Harper,” Isaac scoffs.
“Says the man who threw a fit and tossed boiling water on his brother’s arm?” she charges.