I throw up my hands. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“He’s your father. He knows this industry as well as we do, if not better.”
“He’s a washed-up has-been with anger issues. He’s a stupid bully. No, I’m not listening to him.”
Baptist nods slowly. “That’s good. I was worried you might.”
I move closer to him, grinding my teeth. “I’m not running away. I want this movie, Baptist. I want this production company to work out. My asshole father is not going to get in the way of that.”
He grunts and moves past me back into the hallway. “That’s good to hear. I was beginning to worry.”
“About what?”
“Your spine.” He smirks as he goes to the door. “Tell Max he can come hang out with me whenever he wants.”
“Baptist. What the hell?”
“Relax, Webb. Your dad’s gone. If you need me to come back and beat him bloody for you, just call.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, you’re so helpful.”
“Seriously. Whatever you need.” He gives me a long look then unlocks the door and leaves.
I watch him go and deflate slightly once he’s gone.
What the hell am I doing? My hand comes to my abdomen and a thousand thoughts swirl in my brain. If not telling Baptist about the baby is one thing, my father finding out is another matter entirely. He’s going to kill me—literally, I think my dad might try to murder me if he finds out I’m pregnant by my business partner.
Throw in Max, and Cowan, and my absent mother, and I’m a walking nightmare.
Chapter15
Baptist
Cowan meets us in the lobby of Rodrick’s hotel the following morning. His eyes are rimmed with red and he’s drinking espresso as fast as the cafe will pour it. His hands shake as he flips through the pictures of the abandoned farm, first through my phone, then through Blair’s. He’s barely listening as we give him our report and doesn’t even react when she tells him about the Polaroids.
“You should’ve gone inside,” he says, looking frustrated as he tosses her phone back. “Too scared, suit?”
“You’re damn right we were,” she says, giving me a look like,I knew this asshole was going to complain. “You saw the Polaroids, right?”
“Creepy,” he says, nodding, some of his anger softening. “Exactly what I wanted.”
“Did you plant them?” I lean toward him. “Were there more tricks inside that house? Maybe some spooky skeletons and some giant spiders?”
Cowan rolls his eyes. “I didn’t plant a damn thing. A friend told me—”
“You have friends?” Blair asks, sounding surprised, and I try not to laugh.
He ignores her. “I was told that place would be perfect for a horror film. There are apparently some truly appalling rumors about the things that happened inside that house over the years, and now I suppose I understand why. Perhaps there is some truth to the rumors after all.”
“You’re lying,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms. “You really want me to believe that some random abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere has a murder room with dead girl pictures hanging on the wall? Right there in plain sight? Come on.”
Cowan shrugs. “I don’t care what you believe. Either way, go back and go inside and get me some damn pictures.”
“No,” I say flatly. “We won’t be doing that.”
He stares at me aggressively for a moment. I stare back at him, not giving a shit. Let the old bastard bitch and moan all he wants—I’m the money, and if he wants to make this movie, he needs me to keep writing the damn checks.
Finally, Blair breaks the tension.