“Then you found yourself with a drug charge?”
“Yes, less than two weeks later.”
“Simon, your mother did this to you.”
The boy stared at Lila, eyes wide. “She didn’t mean it. She’s just sick and confused and scared. That’s why she’s not responding to my messages. She’s trying to get treatment, so she can have an heir and save the family, but it’s killing her. If the press finds out that she’s confused or that she’s not well, then the stock price will go down even more. Maybe it’s already too late and that doctor up north couldn’t do anything. She’s just trying to protect the family. I spooked her. That’s why she won’t respond to my messages.” His words came faster and faster, all in a rush. “She just doesn’t want to risk anyone finding out before everything is settled. She can’t write back, don’t you see? She just needs me out of the way for a bit, but she’s going to come back for me when she’s ready. I’ve sent her lots of messages, and she’ll come.”
“What proof do you have that she’s sick?” Lila asked.
“She wouldn’t lie about it. She’s going to get me out of here when she’s ready. You’ll see. She’ll tell them it was all a mistake.” Simon’s cheeks sank slightly into his mouth, and his jaw clenched.
He had been brave so far, but that bravery was about to fail.
“I’ve sent her messages. She’ll come,” he insisted again, his voice cracking.
“I’m sure you’re right, Simon. Your mother will come back for you.” Lila wrapped him in a hug.
The boy clung to her, sniffling, the years vanishing at her touch.
Lila rubbed his back and pretended not to notice. It was how Pax had come to her months before, after he had lost his best friend, after he had put away his brave face and let her squeeze away some of the shock. It was how he still came to her sometimes, eyes darting around her room, unsure how to start.
She should have checked on Pax before she left the compound. He needed his sister.
She should have brought Alex to visit Simon more often. He needed his sister, too.
Lila offered Simon another silent squeeze, an apology to Pax, to Alex, to all of them, frustrated with herself for allowing her father’s case and Tristan’s conspiracies to take over her life so completely, frustrated that once again she had forgotten the little things.
When the boy finally pulled away, his eyes were redder, rawer. “You won’t break our promise?”
Lila shook her head.
“Simon,” Tristan began, “those blackcoats who arrested you? Do you remember their names?”
“Of course. Muller and Davies.” Simon spat out the words, all too eager to trade his sadness for rage. “Everybody hates them. They’re two of the biggest assholes that you’ll ever meet.”
Chapter 11
Lila dodged a picnic bench and a deep puddle near Tristan’s truck, stamping her feet to dislodge the mud and grass on her boots. “I’ll drive,” she said, holding up her hands to catch his keys.
“Not a chance. It’s my ride.”
“It’s not yours. Not really,” Lila shot back, climbing into the passenger’s seat. She crossed her arms over her chest as he hopped in beside her and slammed the door.
“Well, it certainly isn’t yours.” Tristan thrust his key into the truck’s ignition. “When we get back to New Bristol, we’ll go to Rossi’s Pub. I want to know more about Muller and Davies.”
Tristan started the engine and pulled out onto the road, tires spinning in the muck before catching the asphalt.
“Well, I want many things, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to get them.” She couldn’t imagine Tristan visiting Rossi’s, a bar frequented by militia members throughout New Bristol. Not only could she not imagine it, she didn’t want to encourage such stupidity.
“Of course, Chairwoman Randolph has everything she could ever want, yet she still wants more. It’s a shame you abdicated as prime. You certainly fit the profile of a whitecoat.”
“What do you know of it?”
“I saw enough with the Holguíns. More than enough.” Tristan’s jaw had set like Simon’s.
Set and closed.
Bluebonnets and cedar trees flashed by the windows as they pulled onto the interstate.