“Yeah, no thanks to you,” Country taunted.
“I got no time for bullshit, brother. I gotta get things wrapped up for Menace, so I can head over to check in on Marlowe.”
“About that.” Lynch scratched his beard with a grimace. “Marlowe just called Lisa and left a message for you.”
“What’d she say?”
“I didn’t catch it all. Just know she was blowing you off.” The second Lynch saw the change of my expression, he smiled and said, “I’m just fucking with ya, brother. She told Lisa she had a migraine or some shit and was calling it a night. Said she’d catch up with you tomorrow.”
“Damn, this night just keeps getting better and better.”
Chapter 16
Marlowe
After my day from hell, all I wanted to do was spend the night curled up in Rafe’s protective arms, but sadly, that wasn’t an option. Eric had made sure of that—if that was even his real name. I’m not sure of anything anymore. I was foolish enough to think he’d come by to help smooth things over between Kate and me, so I didn’t question the fact that he’d come into my apartment uninvited. I also didn’t question the fact he’d closed and locked the door behind him. That was a mistake. A very bad mistake.
There was something about the way he wandered about my kitchen with an eerie expression that made me feel uneasy, which had me asking, “Why are you here, Eric?”
“You and I have something we need to discuss.”
“Okay, and what is that?”
“I hadn’t planned on having this conversation with you ... or at least not yet, but I’m learning things don’t always go as planned.“ He stopped to study a picture of a barn and sunflowers hanging on the wall, and after several odd moments, he finally continued, “You just have to work with the cards you’ve been dealt.”
“I’m not sure I’m following, Eric.”
“No, I’m sure you’re not. That’s on me. I’m not making myself very clear.” He leaned against my kitchen counter and crossed his arms as he said, “I think I’ll start by telling you a story.”
I didn’t like the fact that Kate’s boyfriend was in my apartment without her. Even more so, I didn’t like the fact that he was talking to me like he knew me. It was creepy, and I just wanted him to go. “I’m really not in the mood for a story, Eric. Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here?”
“It’s rude to interrupt, Marlowe. I’d hate for you to ruin our visit by making me upset.” His tone was low and threatening, making my nervousness turn to complete panic. Having no idea what else to do, I nodded, then sat down at the kitchen table, giving him my full attention. “There was once a young boy. He was from a wealthy, powerful Italian family—one that was known around the world for being a family you do not cross. This young man had everything he could possibly want and more. You might even go so far as to say he was a prince of sorts, and he knew it. Even at a very young age, he wasn’t afraid to go after what he wanted.”
As I sat there listening to his crazy story, I wanted to scream, demand that he get out of my house, but when he moved from the counter and started over to me, something around his waist caught my attention. As he got closer, I realized it was the butt of his handgun. My heart was racing a mile a minute, making it difficult to think as he sat down across from me and said, “The minute he saw Sylvie, the housemaid’s thirteen-year-old daughter, he knew he had to have her. He was seventeen at the time. A bit too old for a girl her age, but he pursued her just the same. He made his intentions known to her and only her, and after a few brief weeks, the two were in love. The boy’s parents weren’t happy about this little love affair of theirs but decided whatever flame the two shared together would eventually die out—like all first loves do. And they were right. The flame did die out, but only after the young girl became pregnant.”
Eric stood, reached into his pocket, and took out a small box. I was too afraid to ask him what was in his hand, fearing it might distract him from his story. Instead, I just sat there, watching and listening, as he walked over to one of the shelves. He nestled something behind the canister of sugar and said, “It was a shameful situation for both families. A young housekeeper’s daughter with no family name or legacy pregnant at the age of thirteen. A prince with the world at his fingertips tangled with trash. There was only one way to solve the predicament they’d found themselves in. They put the child up for adoption.”