Grayson's Vow(105)

Placing it in the trunk, I got in my car and drove straight to the bank. The feeling of panic that had swept through me inside the print shop was now a full-blown case of buzzing nerves. My heart pounded in my chest as if it understood something terrible was about to happen. Oh God, please let this be some strange misunderstanding, a bank error, anything. Please, please . . .

I parked, took a moment to take deep, calming breaths, and walked to the bank. Thankfully, it was practically empty, and I approached a teller without having to wait. When I told her why I was there, she looked up my account and frowned at the screen. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hawthorn. It appears there's been a hold put on your account." Oh God.

"A hold?" I squeaked. "Does it give a reason why?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You should receive something in the mail if your account is being garnished or if there's another legal reason for the hold."

My heart was beating so rapidly, I had trouble catching my breath. "Are you able to check my husband's account?" I asked. "Just to tell me if there's been a hold placed on his as well?"

"Well . . ."

"Please," I said, "I don't want any other information. I know it's only in his name. Just if you could . . ." I drew in a sharp breath, panic overwhelming me for a moment. I brought my hand to my chest. "I'm sorry."

The older woman smiled sympathetically. "Let me just . . ." She began typing on her computer. She frowned again. "Yes, it appears the same hold has been put on his account as well."

"Thank you," I said, the contents of my stomach coming up my throat. I swallowed heavily. "I appreciate it very much."

I turned to walk away and she called after me, "I'm sure it will be cleared up, Mrs. Hawthorn."

I turned my head, but kept walking. No, no it wouldn't. Oh God. "Yes, I'm sure. Thank you."

I walked briskly to my car, my skin cold and prickly, and once I was seated behind the wheel, I pulled my phone out, dialing my father's number.

He answered on the third ring. "What have you done?"

Pause. "Kira."

"My gram's money," I burst out. "What have you done?"

I heard his deep sigh and then he seemed to put his hand over the receiver as he spoke to someone in the background. I thought I heard a door close before he came back. "He's not right for you, Kira. He's a criminal."

"You bastard," I swore. "You did do this. Why?" My voice cracked, sorrow and rage overwhelming me. "Do you really hate me that much?" The words sounded familiar. Hadn't I just asked that question about Grayson and his own father?

"Of course I don't hate you, Kira. I just don't want you making choices for your life that will lead you in the wrong direction."

"It's my life!" I yelled. "I'm a grown woman. You had no right to do this. And now you've put his business in jeopardy, too—he has employees who count on him."

"If your husband counts on your money for his success, then he's no man at all." His voice was tight, unrelenting.

"You have no right—no leg to stand on. That money is legally mine. My gram left it to me."

"Yes, perhaps, but I can tie it up in court until you see the logic of my position and the folly of your choices. I'm doing this for your own good, Kira. I'm your father. I can't let you ruin your life."

Shock and horror slithered up my spine and tears slid down my cheeks. "You're doing this for your own good," I hissed. "You've never given my happiness a moment's consideration. You're doing this because of your own pride—you can't bear to see me do anything that doesn't work into some agenda of your own making. You can't bear the thought that I'm not under your thumb just like everyone else in your world."

He sighed. "Kira—"

"Haven't you done enough to him?" I asked, realizing there was nothing to lose now if we discussed it. He'd already done what I'd feared most. "I remember, you know. I was there when the judge in his case came to your office. I heard your advice. I heard you tell him to throw the book at Grayson, to make an example of him. And that's just what he did."

"I give a lot of people counsel. There's no law against it. And if that boy got the book thrown at him, it's because it's what he deserved."

He remembered. The quickness of his reply gave him away. He hadn't when we'd gone to him in San Francisco, though, I was sure of it. He'd looked more closely at Grayson at some point after that. I knew it in my gut. Whether it was before or after he'd offered him the bribe money, I didn't know.

My dad had taken part in screwing Grayson and all along—not only had Grayson's crime been an accident, but it had been based on valiant reasons—he'd been trying to protect someone.