The Note (Manhattan Nights #5) - Natalie Wrye Page 0,7
I don’t.
One fact is for certain, though: Grandfather Quinn had the man pegged from the start. And if he couldn’t be a father to me in life, then he damned sure could be one in death.
Dear old Dad.
Stephen King could have used him for horror story material for days. The thought of his face—gray and stern—is in my mind even now as I grab for my phone, dialing my brother Lachlan in desperation. The phone rings twice before picking up, and my younger brother clears his throat.
“Lachlan speaking.”
“Lach,” I grunt. “It’s me. Noah.”
“Noah!” He exclaims in surprise for a split second. His voice lowers, reminding me of how much he’s grown. He scoffs. “Man, you sound like shit.”
“Was there a mass email that I missed or something? Because everyone I know is singing that same chorus.” I wring my hands through my dark hair. “I don’t sound like shit.”
“You do. But I guess that’s neither here nor there. How’s it going?”
“She’ll be apples pretty soon.” I clutch the phone closer. “As soon as you tell me who’s been in my apartment.”
“Your apartment?”
“Yeah, mine. You haven’t thrown any rages here lately, have you?” My voice lowers.
My little bro stammers. “No, I have-haven’t.”
“Lachlan…” I warn, my feet now pacing the floor. “I want you to be deadset with me.”
“Noah, I swear.” He asserts, his pitch turning high. “I haven’t thrown any more parties since the last birthday bash.” He pauses. “Fair dinkum.”
Bloody fucking hell. I stop, my fingers working at my temples as I think. I take a deep breath. “So, no ripper parties in my apartment while I’ve been gone?”
“No, but, uh, does having someone over for a fuck count?”
“Lachlan!” I bark.
“Keep your shirt on, old-timer. I’m just joking.” Lachlan laughs, and I could kill him, strangle him with my bare hands.
My brother drives me crazy sometimes. But there’s no prankster I love more than this bastard here, so I try to calm down, my gait finally slowing. I rub my jaw.
“What’s the problem, bro? I mean, is the place trashed or something? Don’t you have a maid come out regularly?”
I do. And I know Maria didn’t touch a thing.
I trust her more than most Quinn company employees. I chew lightly on my tongue.
“Yeah, nah, it’s just…” I hesitate, tripping over the truth. I stop myself. “It’s nothing. Just was missing something.”
“A woman, perhaps?” Lach muses. “Maybe if you had one, you’d have less time to leave the place open for my parties. Not that I’m complaining or anything…” My little brother trails off with a small laugh.
“Please. You should know me better than that by now.”
He sighs, a lofty sound that echoes through the phone in my empty apartment. “Ah, yes. The eternal bachelor strikes again. Mr. Pristine doesn’t like anyone coming in and muddying up his perfect world,” he mocks. “You ever think you might be too uptight there, bro?”
“Obviously not enough…since I let your ass even throw these parties at all. If Maria didn’t spot-clean the place after each one, I’d swear I’d get an STD just by touching the walls.”
“Probably not the permanent kind, though.” He chuckles. “And I wouldn’t worry; no one knows how to dodge a bullet better than you, Noah. Isn’t that what you did with good old Abercrombie and Fitch a few years back?”
Don’t go there, my mind screams. I try not to bite my tongue.
“Ainsley,” I correct. “Her name was Ainsley, Lachlan.”
“Yeah, just like I said. Good old Anthrax. You dodged that old ball-and-chain like a bail-skipper. Hell, you give me something to look up to. And I thought I was bad when it came to women.”
The mention of Ainsley leaves my skin prickling, and suddenly I’m over this conversation. I move on as quickly as I can.
“Christ, how do I always feel worse even when you’re complimenting me, Lach?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he scoffs. “I have to save my compliments for the women in my life.” He pauses. “All four of them. But if I can help out, bro, in any way, just let me know. I swear I haven’t been to your place in a long time, but I’m willing to help donate for anything you might be missing. Like, the essentials. Lubricant. Ball gag. Condoms…”
“Right. I think I’m good on that front, Lach. And I guess that was all I wanted.” I start to finish the call, but my little bro stops me, calling out before I can cut the line. His voice takes on a slightly panicked