There’s a beat before the woman’s voice replies.
“Mr. Kane, this is Geraldine Henley.”
I freeze. Brynn’s stepmother?
“What can I do for you Mrs. Henley,” I growl, my jaw tightening. This is the woman who fucking ran off when things went bad with Brynn’s father, and with some of Brynn’s money, apparently. The fuck does think she’s doing, calling me?
…And how the fuck does she even have my cell number?
“Actually, you know what?” I spit. “I’m pretty sure I’m hanging up right now. Your stepdaughter is going through a lot right now, and blood or not, running off like that and abandoning her is pretty fucking low if you ask—”
“Can I answer your first question before you go on with your tirade?”
I scowl. “Pardon?”
“You asked me what you could do for me.”
“It was rhetorical,” I spit.
“Well what you can do is listen, Mr. Kane,” she says back tightly. “Please.”
My eyes narrow. “You have a minute.”
“What’s the story back there, hmm? That I ran off? Stole money? And where am I, exactly? Switzerland? Thailand? Russia?”
“Greece, I’ve been told,” I growl.
She barks a laugh. “Ah, well, Mykonos does sound lovely right now, especially after the last month I’ve had.”
“Thirty seconds, Mrs. Hen—”
“I’m not in Greece, Mr. Kane. Or Russia, or Thailand, or anywhere else you’ve heard. And trust me, I haven’t stolen any money from Brynn.”
“And you expect me to believe that… why?”
“Because,” she snaps. “For the last four weeks, I’ve been a fucking prisoner.”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
Brynn’s stepmom sighs. “Clint, that’s Brynn’s father, got wind that I was going to be leaving him. Well, that and that I’d snuck into his office at night looking for tax records for my attorney, and stumbled on his other, shall we say, less than legal, morally reprehensible business ventures. I believe a Ms. Simpter made contact with Brynn to tell her about all of that?”
I nod, my jaw clenching.
“Well, Clint found out, and had some of his goons lock me up on one of his yachts. I’ve been in stuck, mostly locked beneath deck off the coast of Miami for the last month, Mr. Kane.”
Holy shit.
I whistle lowly, standing and running my fingers through my hair.
“And you’re free now, I assume?”
“About an hour ago, yes,” she says tersely. “Some of my own staff finally got wind of it and called in the coast guard.”
“Jesus, Mrs. Henley—”
“Let’s leave it at Geri, please?” She laughs bitterly. “Trust me, I’ll be dropping Henley as fast as I fucking can.” She sighs. “So, there’s the big story, Mr. Kane.”
“Colton works.”