Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“True. Maybe it’s nothing.”
But even as I say the words, I don’t believe them. The FLMC, whether they’re related to the original or not, are still around.
The question is what they’re up to, and whether it’s good or bad.
Chapter One
Brendan
The bar is busy for a weeknight, and hours pass before I remember to check my phone. Hmm. No text from Ava yet. I text her quickly and stuff my phone back into my pocket…just in time to see Pat Lamone walk into the bar.
Lord.
Did his mother tell him?
It’s not my problem, but man…
He walks to the bar and takes an empty seat right in front of me.
“What can I get you, Lamone?”
“Answers,” he says.
“Look, I’m sorry about your birth mother, and—”
“I can’t talk about that.” His tone is robotic. “Not yet.”
“So she told you.”
He nods.
“What can I get you?” I ask again.
“Scotch. Neat.”
I pour his drink and slide it in front of him.
He downs it in one gulp and slides it back to me. “Another.”
I pour another, set it in front of him. “If you have another after that one, I’m taking your keys.”
“No problem. I walked over here.”
“You still living at Mrs. Mayer’s place?”
He nods, takes a drink.
I don’t want to get into his life any more than I already am, but I’m a bartender. This is what I do.
“Spill it,” I say. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“My grandmother,” he says.
“Dyane Wingdam. Also known as Wendy Madigan.”
“Yeah. I went to see her tonight. At the hospital in Grand Junction.”
“I see.”
“I wanted answers. I needed answers. Answers my birth mother couldn’t give me. Answers about my grandfather. The man who made me a Steel.”
“I understand, but how did you expect to get answers from a comatose woman?”
“I don’t know, but my trip turned out to be in vain.”
Now my curiosity is piqued.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…the very day that I met my birth mother and learned the circumstances of my birth…my grandmother…” He stares at his drink, picks it up, swirls the scotch in the glass.
“For God’s sake, Lamone, what? What are you trying to say?”
“She’s gone. Her hospital bed was empty.” He slides the glass toward me once more. “Another.”
I hide my surprise. Ava’s grandmother…gone? A comatose woman…gone? Something’s fishy. Ava will be affected, and not in a good way.
“I see.”
Mrs. Mayer doesn’t live too far away, so Pat should be able to make it home all right, even if he’s stumbling most of the way.
I pour another drink. “Didn’t the nurses say anything to you?”
“They just said they discharged her.”
“How did that happen? A doctor would have to—”
“They wouldn’t tell me. I’m her grandson. A DNA test proved that. But technically, I’m nothing to her. Not her next of kin, not anything. So they wouldn’t give me any information.”
“But you’ve been visiting her all this time.”
“Apparently that doesn’t matter in the medical world.”
“Yeah, they’re really careful. The HIPAA laws and everything. But still…” I shake my head. “I don’t understand what could’ve happened. Do you think your mother had her discharged?”
“From what I understand from my talk with my mother”—he clears his throat, shoots the drink I just poured—“they weren’t on speaking terms when my grandmother went into the hospital. So I doubt she had anything to do with it.”
“Did you call her? Ask her?”
“How the hell can I do that? She just told me I was the product of a brutal gang rape. The last thing she needs is me bothering her.”
“I see.”
He shoves his glass toward me again. “You know what to do.”
Damn.
I pour him another. If anyone ever needed a drink, it’s Pat Lamone at this moment.
“I was hoping,” he says, “that maybe you and your father could find out what happened to her.”
“We’re not related to her, unlike you.”
“Yeah? Well, when my birth mother looks at you, she doesn’t have to relive a traumatic experience.”
He’s got me there. Plus…my father and I may well have a connection to the Madigan family through Lauren’s son Jack. Though that seems pretty farfetched.
I sigh. “I don’t think I’ll get anywhere, but I know someone who might be able to.”
“Who’s that?”
“You leave that to me.”
I’m thinking of Ryan Steel, of course, but I can’t say this to Pat. He doesn’t know about Ryan’s connection to Wendy Madigan. He doesn’t know that Ryan Steel is his uncle, and Ryan may not appreciate me telling him that.
While his connection to the Steel family is through his paternal grandfather, he has another connection through his mother. His mother and Ryan Steel.
This man is Ava’s cousin.
Knowing what I know about him—what he did to Diana Steel and to Rory and Callie Pike—my sympathy for him is limited. But it does still exist. He didn’t have the best start in life for sure.
I have no idea what his adoptive parents were like, and since they’re both dead now, there’s no way to ever know.