Chapter 9
RADOMIR
“Ishould’ve explained this better,” I tell her, as we drive across the bridge, out of the city. I’m constantly checking the rear-view, the side mirrors, instincts honed over years of mistrust. “But … hell, I thought maybe I could stay away. Maybe give you space. Room to breathe. Re-find yourself”
She sits in the passenger seat, wringing her hands. Looking out the window. Then risks a glance at me, a conflicted look in her perfect eyes, as though she’s not sure she can trust herself around me. She probably shouldn’t. I know the damn feeling.
“And … the freedom to remember him how you clearly do.”
“Dad?” she says.
“Check the glovebox,” I say. “Then you’ll know what I mean by this not being simple.”
She reaches for it, then covers her hands again.
She glances at me. Lips trembling. Devastatingly human and heartbroken.
“Is this something to do with Dad’s … work?
Because I know, okay? I know he walked on the wrong side of the tracks.
I know he wasn’t … all good. But he told me he never did anything I’d be ashamed of. ”
“I’m sorry, beautiful, but he did. He wronged you. I mean, if that’s what he told you.”
She snatches the glovebox open, takes out the tiny audio player. “Oh, Jesus,” she murmurs, as if she knows there will be something terrible on it.
I reach over, tenderly lay my hand on her arm. “Maybe it’s messed-up, the fact I’m the one who’s here for you. But I am here for you, Mara.”
She offers me a tight, confused smile, then clicks play on the recorder. I watch the road as her father’s voice—interrupted with shudders and coughs of pain—explains who he really is. What he really does.
“… I’m the one who personally expanded the trafficking beyond just women. “ A long pause with the sound of scrapes and heavy footsteps. Then I hear another voice, close and threatening. “Tell me what you mean. Or—” Radomir’s voice is stern.
“I’m the one who urged them to go younger.”
She clicks pause, bites her lip. Stares at me for a long, devastating moment.
“Does it get worse?” she whispers.
“He admits what he did,” I tell her. “To keep his product in line. The details the punishments he inflicted on them.”
“What did he do?”
“Nasty, evil things. And humiliating things. Depraved things. You don’t have to listen—”
She clicks play and wraps her arms around her middle as her father’s voice fills the car.
He talks about it all in detail, just like I told him to.
Told him to leave the world with some truth, some decency, some dignity, instead of just a stain.
I told him that this can stop with you. But I know the evil inside some.
I doubt it can ever be stopped. But it must be accounted for.
At the end, after listing his unforgivable sins, he says, “I always knew it was wrong, on some level. I always knew I should stop. But the life it afforded me, the life it afforded my daughter…”
Mara makes a choking noise and immediately clicks stop. I reach over, close my hand over hers.
“Why didn’t you just tell me this?” she hisses.
“I thought you deserved a good memory of your father, the memory you already had,” I tell her.
“Rather than deserving … me. “ I look away at the derelict parts of the city flashing by.
“A stranger who just wanted to fuck you more than I could ever understand. A stranger who has come to care about you, Mara, to deeply care. Just by watching you from afar.” I swallow hard and look straight ahead at the road.
“Then, from speaking with you, hearing your passion, your kindness, your sincerity. And then by knowing you—intimately”
She wipes a tear from her eye and makes a quiet sniffling noise.
“I never knew my dad, then, not really, shit!” she says quietly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She punches at the door.
Undoes her seatbelt and collapses her head down into her lap.
She cries with huge sobs. Her hair falls forward, hiding her eyes and her grief from my view.
I drive and say nothing. Just give her time.
“But maybe…” She sits upright and clears her throat. Takes a tissue from her purse and dabs at her face. Pushes her hair back with splayed fingers. Sniffs and squeezes my hand. “Maybe I can get to know you, like, really know?” Yes, it is a question. A question to herself.
I lift her hand to my lips, kiss each knuckle. “Angel, that’s all I want. To get us out of here. To have the time and the freedom to explore this feeling that settled in me the first moment I saw you. This…”
“Belonging,” she finishes, kissing my hand now.
“Belonging,” I agree. “That’s the perfect word for it—”
As we leave the bridge, a car pulls out from the opposite side of the road.
Drives directly into our path. I slam the brakes.
Mara flies forward fast and thumps hard into the dashboard.
She collapses to the floor. Both cars skid and stop facing each other.
Headlight beams combined. Their doors open violently, and three men jump out, aiming their guns at us.
I have a single second to think, holy shit, before the bullets start flying.