Chapter 22
Juliette
Detective Barkley sat across from me in a private room at the hospital.
I shivered. The room was cold and spartan, and the gray walls felt like they were caving in on me.
I just wanted to be with Wes and tears threatened to fall at any moment.
The reality of what had happened today came in waves. I felt like I was drowning.
“What is your full legal name?” he asked.
I clasped my hands together to stop my fingers from fidgeting. “Juliette Valentina Ginocassi.”
“What is your relationship to Vincent Ginocassi?” he asked. He looked at me like he already knew the answer, and I was certain he knew a hell of a lot more than that.
I swallowed. “Vincent Ginocassi is my father.”
“Do you have any reason to believe someone associated with or in opposition to your father was behind the shooting at the farmer’s market today?”
I have every reason to believe that. But I needed to be careful with how I worded things.
This was a nightmare. My stomach sank. “Honestly, I know as much as you do.” I shook my head.
“So I have no specific reason to believe anything. In theory, you might think it’s suspicious because of who my father is.
But unless you’re keeping something pertinent from me, there’s no evidence.
I don’t remember much. All I really recall is Wes covering me.
He sprang into action so damn fast—like he didn’t even have time to think about it.
I never saw where the shot came from. And once I realized what had happened, all of my attention was focused on Wes.
All that mattered was his survival.” I stared across the room in a daze as my lip trembled.
“I went to buy honey, and the next thing I knew, Wes had saved my life.”
The detective looked into my eyes for a moment, then wrote something down. “Can you tell me where your father is currently located?”
“Vince doesn’t keep me apprised of his whereabouts.”
That wasn’t a lie. I never knew where my father was at any given moment. Certainly never knew what he was up to. Didn’t want to know.
“Are you aware of your father’s ties to the mob?” he asked.
I laughed inwardly at that. Am I aware? It had only taken over my entire life and nearly killed the man I loved. It was only the bane of my existence.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, of course. That’s why I have a bodyguard.
There are people out there who want me dead just because I’m Vince’s daughter.
But that doesn’t mean I’m aware of what he’s up to.
” I exhaled. “I’ve spent my life trying to get away from my father’s business.
All I’ve ever wanted is to be left alone, to live independently and in peace.
I’ve had anything but that lately, and it’s making me insane. ”
He offered me a sad smile before jotting down a few more things. “Wes Callahan had been living with you, in addition to being your guard, correct?”
I nodded. “Yes. He’s done a very good job protecting me, as he demonstrated at the farmer’s market today. I owe him my life.”
“You two must be close.” He tilted his head. “The paramedics indicate that you were particularly distraught when Mr. Callahan was shot.”
I tried not to lose my cool. “Anyone with a soul would’ve been distraught. He nearly died protecting me.” I bounced my knees up and down. “Have you had any luck finding who’s responsible?”
“I’m not able to talk about the investigation, except to say that you’ll be advised if anything pertinent is discovered.” He hesitated, then cocked his head again. “Any reason to believe the target was actually Mr. Callahan and not you?”
My stomach clenched. “No, I don’t have any reason to believe that.”
“Does that seem far-fetched to you, or might that theory hold some weight?”
I moved my eyes from side to side as I thought about that angle—it scared me more than anything. Could Wes have been the target? “I can’t rule it out completely,” I said.
Paranoia bloomed inside me. Could my dad have found out about Wes and me and tried to have him killed? My mind raced. There was that photographer in Palm Springs. Had he published photos of us that my father had seen?
My gut told me Wes couldn’t have been the target, but I wasn’t absolutely certain. Anything was possible when it came to my father.
“Let me word my question a bit differently,” Detective Barkley said. “If there’s something going on between you and Mr. Callahan, would that be motivation for someone on your father’s team to have attempted to murder him?”
I shook my head as I began to sweat. “No one would know about anything going on between us.”
Despite my best efforts to not address my relationship with Wes, the officer continued to dig. “Is there something going on between you and Mr. Callahan?”
“Wes and I are close,” I answered.
“Is your father aware of that?”
I licked my lips. “I couldn’t tell you what my father thinks. He hired Wes, and he knows we live together. He knows I care about Wes as more than just a bodyguard because I’ve expressed concern about Wes’s well-being in the past. I’ve told my father nothing else is going on, though.”
The idea of my father being behind the shooting continued to burn a hole in my brain as the officer finished grilling me.
It was a terrible thing to not trust one of the people who’d brought you into this world.
I knew my father would never do anything intentionally to harm me, but I couldn’t trust him when it came to Wes.
Vince Ginocassi simply didn’t have respect for people who weren’t related to him by blood.
After the questioning was over and I left the room, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to call my father. I exited the hospital and walked to a corner of the parking lot, with one of my father’s guys never too far behind me. I dialed and put the phone to my ear.
“Juliette,” my father answered. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again today. Did something happen?”
“Nothing new,” I snapped, blowing a breath up into my hair. “But I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me for once.”
“What is it?”
“Did you have anything to do with the shooting at the farmer’s market?” I huffed, my heart pounding faster by the second.
He raised his voice. “Are you asking me whether I ordered someone to kill my own daughter, who means more to me than anything in the world?”
“That’s not what I’m getting at. I’m talking about whether you misconstrued my relationship with Wes and ordered someone to hurt him.” I licked my parched lips.
He softened his tone. “I had nothing to do with it, Juliette. I almost wish I had because then I wouldn’t be so goddamn scared that someone was still out there trying to put a hit on my daughter.”
My pulse slowed a bit. I believed him for some reason, even if I could never trust him fully.
“Anyway, why would I be misconstruing your relationship?” he asked after a moment. “What the hell is going on between you and him?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “He’s just important to me. You know that.”
“You’re getting a little too close to the situation if you care that much about him. Your job is to live your life while my guys protect you—not the other way around. I don’t want you trying to protect and cover for them. I don’t like this one bit, Juliette.”
“You actually expect me to not care about someone whose job is to guard my life? That’s not natural.”
“That’s exactly what I expect,” he yelled. “And I most certainly expect him to respect the boundaries I set when I gave him that damn job.”
I rolled my eyes. As if he was doing Wes a favor by keeping him in such a shitty position. But there was no sense in arguing any further with my father. He was irrational.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“No,” I muttered before hanging up.
I stood there for a while, my cheeks burning in anger.
But as I walked back into the hospital, my anger turned to sadness.
Tears stung my eyes again. The reality of this situation once again hit me.
Wes had almost died. Taking a bodyguard position and hoping for the best was one thing.
But actually proving yourself the way he had, sacrificing his life for mine, was beyond heroic.
How could I ever repay him? The bullet hadn’t killed him, but it very well could’ve killed me had he not been so damn selfless.
I burst into tears. An urgent need to see Wes came over me, so I rushed down to his room.
But when I got there, he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful.
The rise and fall of his chest comforted me.
The sound of his breathing was music to my ears.
That meant he was alive. But Wes needed rest after what he’d been through, so rather than risk waking him by sitting at his bedside, I wandered around a bit and ended up in the chapel again.
All the noise of the hospital disappeared the moment the chapel door closed behind me. It seemed almost completely soundproof. There was a small altar at the front of the room and some bookshelves that held bibles.
I took a seat at one of the dark wooden pews and lowered the little platform that was made for kneeling. This was the first place I’d truly felt safe in a while. Emotions flooded me as I leaned against the pew in front of me and sobbed.
After several minutes, a voice startled me. “Are you okay, young lady?”
I turned to find a priest standing there. He was tall, bald, and dressed from head to toe in black with a white Roman collar.
“Hello,” I said. “Is it okay that I’m in here?”
“Of course. All are welcome here,” he answered softly. “Do you have a sick loved one?”
I shook my head. “Thankfully, he’s not ill. But he was injured, and he’s recovering.” I let out a shaky breath. “He got shot. We were very lucky.”
He took a seat next to me. “Do you need someone to talk to?”
I looked into his eyes. “Can I trust you?”
He placed his hand on my arm and smiled kindly. “If you can’t trust me, I’m not sure who you can trust.”
He had a point.