“Ms. London, I’m sorry. She can be careless—”
“Liam Callahan?” I asked her.
Confused, she nodded, looking back behind me. “Yes, the Callahans gracefully allowed us to shoot in their mansion. This morning, the other venue backed out at the last minute. We are so lucky; there have never been any photo-shoots done here before.”
I didn’t want to turn back around, but when I did, they were already walking somewhere.
“Is something wrong, Ms. London?”
Everything. Everything was wrong with this.
Noah
“Your woman’s cute.” Liam glanced back over to Amelia as she spoke to the staff. “A little naïve, but cute. Must be very different from the women in the Southbend.”
“I haven’t been back there since I was a teenager. I wouldn’t know what the women are or aren’t like.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “You only get one lie with me. Do you really want it to be that one?”
I said nothing. He had stepped down those stairs like the devil himself, and his son in his hands did nothing to hide that fact. It proved that even the devil loves his kid. I didn’t say anything while he spoke to Amelia, hoping he wouldn’t involve her in this, and luckily, he played dumb as well.
“Let’s talk, Mr. Sloan,” he stated, giving me no room to argue. He walked around me toward the east side of mansion, going behind one of the staircases. I noticed there were no photos in the house, nothing that made it looked lived in. If it weren’t for the noise of the crew setting up for the shoot, the house would have been eerily quiet. Finally, he stopped at a pair of brown French doors leading into a study overlooking the pool and all of Santa Ana.
“Please have a seat while I try to figure out this damn thing,” he muttered, crouching down in front of small wooden desk set. He pulled out the chair seating his son before opening a drawer and pulling out some blocks for him. When his son started to play he stood up straighter, turning to me. “There we go. Sorry about that—the struggle of being a working father. You know how it is.”
“I don’t have any children,” I replied, taking a seat in front of his desk.
“Right,” he said, pulling out a bottle of brandy. “The baby whose hospital bills you paid for—she’s your brother’s child correct?”
“Yes,” I answered when he offered me glass. “I’m good.”
He didn’t drop his hand. “When an Irishman hands you a drink, you take it.”
“I’m Scottish.”
The corner of his mouth turned up, and he downed the glass himself. “You pulled yourself out of the slums, you’ve made something of yourself, and you’ve got balls. I like you, Noah … but your family is another case altogether. Scottish, Irish—it doesn’t matter. You’re from the Southbend, so I’m sure you know who I am. You know the rules, and your father broke them. Custom says that I kill you, your brother, his family, and then him, because you and I both know he doesn’t have the money to pay me back.”
“I’ve never been one for custom,” I replied, leaning back into the chair, “but then again, neither are you. After all, you are here instead of out on a murder spree.”
“Not because I don’t want be,” he snapped, glaring into me. “You father lost over $200 million dollars, my fucking money, and now he’s in the wind along with your idiot brother. The only person I can get my hands on at the moment is you. That’s an annoyance in and of itself because you’re a movie star, which means people would actually give a damn if you went missing. And I could waste my time thinking of an elaborate way to get to you, but for what? You only serve as your father’s ATM. I want Frank. I wanted him yesterday, and so you, Noah Sloan, will bring him to me before my annoyance turns to full-blown anger.”
“I thought the Callahan network was vast and undeniable? You say you want him, and in enough time, someone somewhere will find him—”
“But I don’t want someone, somewhere. I want it to be you.” He frowned, stood up, and walked over to the windows. “I may not kill you, but you and your family will take a beating just like any other family that gets in my way. Your father will die because you turned him in to me. If you fail, well … you don’t want to fail. Not if you want to see a future with Ms. London.”
“Threaten her, touch her—in any way, shape, or form—and I swear to God, I don’t care what your last name is, I will come for you.”
“I’m terrified. No, really, I am,” Liam snickered, not even bothering to glance back at me. “But I’m not the man you should be threatening. Not only is it useless, but I’m also not your enemy. I’m just a businessman protecting his interest. It was your father who used you and her as collateral. So my question to you is, who are you more loyal to: her, or Frank?”
“Dada! Dada!” Ethan cried out, smashing the blocks on his table. I had forgotten about his presence.
“Looks like our meeting’s over. I’m sure you can show yourself out. Enjoy your photo shoot.” He walked over to his son, a smile on his face as he grabbed Ethan’s sides, tickling him. How in the hell he could talk about wiping out someone’s family one minute and be so caring about his own was haunting.
Closing the doors behind me, I took a deep breath. The only upside of all of this was when I found Frank, it would literally be the last time we met.
Who am I more loyal to? It wasn’t even a question.