The King's Deception

“I can see how you’d think that. But put yourself in your mother’s shoes. Our relationship was a way for her to deal with the hurt she was feeling. Was it right? Of course not. But it happened and you’re the result. So how can it be all bad?”

“Why do you think she wouldn’t tell me about you?”

Antrim shrugged. “Probably because everything she’d say would only raise more questions. She surely doesn’t want you to think bad of her. Unfortunately, she didn’t take into account your — or my — feelings.”

No, she hadn’t.

“I don’t think she’d like it that you and I met.”

“Probably not. She made that clear to me when we spoke at her office. She never wanted us to meet. Told me to get out and not come back.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“Neither do I.”

* * *

Antrim told himself to choose every word with caution. This was the moment when he would either win the boy over or scare him away. There was no doubt that Gary believed him to be his birth father. Having their DNA matched was a good thing for them both, but Pam had already made clear the results of that test. What he needed was for this fifteen-year-old to start questioning who was his father. The man who raised him? Or the man who provided his genes? It wasn’t Antrim’s fault that he hadn’t been a part of the boy’s life, and it seemed that Gary realized that, too.

His mother was to blame.

But he didn’t want him questioning her just yet.

That would come later.

Pam would be furious once she discovered what had happened here and, if he knew her at all, there was no telling what she’d say to Gary about him. But if this were played right, it wouldn’t matter. By then the boy would be far more suspect of her than of him. After all, she was the one who’d lied all of his life. Why should Gary believe her now?

But there was still the matter of Cotton Malone, who was nearby and could reassert himself before Gary had time to digest everything.

He could not allow that to happen.

Hopefully, the chat they’d just had would begin to raise questions in Gary’s mind. He needed him to recognize that his dad bore some responsibility for this, too. Worked right, the boy might just begin to blame Cotton Malone. Which would make what he’d decided to do that much easier for Gary to accept.

“I need to make a call,” he said. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

* * *

Gary watched as Antrim left the office, leaving him alone inside. Through the window he saw the tables with the books and computers. He had no idea what all of this was about, only that it seemed important. He wondered what his dad was doing.

And he hoped Ian wasn’t in too much trouble.

His mother had made clear that she never wanted his birth father to be part of their life. No reasons had been offered and he’d not understood why.

Now he was even more confused.

Blake Antrim seemed like an okay guy. And just like everyone else, he hadn’t known the truth until recently.

And when he did find out, he’d immediately acted.

That said something.

What was he to do?

He’d been presented with an unexpected opportunity. He had a ton of questions for both Antrim and his dad. Tops on the list? Would his mother have ever been with another man if not for what his dad had done with other women? Antrim had been there. He saw things firsthand. And he’d made clear that his mother was really hurt.

He needed to talk about this with someone.

But who?

He couldn’t call his mother. Big mistake.

And his dad was seeing about Ian.

There was no one who’d even possibly understand his anger and confusion.

Other than Blake Antrim.

Thirty-one

Malone watched as Kathleen Richards kept her gun lowered but her gaze locked on him. He, too, still held his weapon. He turned to Miss Mary and asked, “What happened?”

“The man who fell from the steps tried to leave, but this officer was outside and shot through the glass.”

“He had a gun strapped to his leg,” Richards added. “I decided not to wait around and see what happened.”

“The bloke started firing,” Ian said. “People were scattering everywhere. She”—Ian pointed at Richards—“hit the pavement. Then he darted away.”

“I couldn’t get a clean shot at him,” Richards said, “because of the crowd.”

“And no one was hit?”

Richards shook her head. “Everyone is okay.”

Sirens could be heard, growing louder.

“The Met,” Richards said to him. “Let me handle them.”

“Gladly. We’re leaving.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Mr. Malone. I must speak with you. Can you hang around a bit, just until I’ve dealt with the police? A few minutes is all I need.”

He considered her request. Why not?

Besides, he had a few questions of his own.

“Upstairs,” Miss Mary said. “In the apartment. Wait there until they’re gone. I’ll help this young lady. I can say it was a robbery attempt gone wrong. She interrupted the thieves and scared them off.”

Worked for him.

“Okay. Ian and I will be upstairs.”

* * *

Kathleen had made a fast summation of Cotton Malone. Intense. Focused. And gutsy. He’d challenged her without a hint of concern.