Chapter 56
On the elevator ride to Dad’s floor, I want to rage. At Moss. At how long the elevator takes. Even when we get out and I see his secretary, Margaret, I want to shout at her when she tells us he’s waiting for us. This secret is eating me from the inside out, and it’s been less than a day. We came straight from the warehouse to Dad’s office, and I am ready to explode.
Walking into Dad’s office, I am overwhelmed by the need to scream at him. I glare at the old man and snap, “Get out.”
“This is my office?—”
“Moss, get out.”
He must look to Dad for direction because Dad nods toward the door. But I don’t see it. All I see is the devil in the CEO’s chair. My chair.
When the door closes, I slam my fists on his desk. “The fuck!”
A tight little smile comes over his face. “Tell me all about it, son.”
“You set me up!”
“To understand what this business entails? Yes. I did.”
“You made me an accessory to?—”
“Anderson. You cannot be this na?ve. Not anymore.”
“Na?ve?” I ask, panting. “I may have shot people today, Dad! Because of you! Because to you, I’m worth risking to get back a quarter of a million dollars! No wonder you didn’t want to pay up for June! You’re a cheap son-of-a-bitch
“Ah, ah, don’t speak of your grandmother that way?—”
I lunge over his desk and grab his collar, shaking him. “The fuck is wrong with you!”
He glances at my wrist with mild disdain. “Are you done yet?”
“I haven’t even gotten started!”
“You realize, of course, that Moss is on the other side of that door still, and if I needed him to, he would come in here and remove you. I do not wish that to happen, but it will if you do not unhand me. Now.”
Moss, who shot and killed three people today. My father is threatening me with that guy. Fuck this shit. Fuck all of this. I need … June. I have to get her the money.
With shaking hands, I release him. “Why? Just tell me that.”
“First, you will tell me how today went. Sit. Would you like a scotch?”
“No.”
“Go on, then.”
I gulp against a dry throat as I sit. “We went to New Jersey like you wanted. We spoke to Bobby, and he pussyfooted around until Moss threatened his children. Things seemed like they were settling down, and I relaxed, tucking my hands into my pockets. Which exposed my gun and made them think I was going for it. The situation devolved into a shootout. We’re alive. They’re not.”
His smile deepened but only a fraction. “Sounds like you handled yourself as best you could.”
“It is your fault three men are dead, and that doesn’t even bother you, does it?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Anderson.”
Does he have a spark of humanity in him? “It bothers you they’re dead?”
“No, not that part. It is not my fault they are dead,” he says, shaking his head. “If Bobby had paid his debts, then his children would still have a father. It is his own fault he is dead.”
I grip the arms of the chair. “You made me an accessory to three murders. And you’re not even bothered by it?”
“It was high time you understood what it is we really do.”
“No.”
He smirks. “No?”
“It is not time for me to understand any of this. There is nothing to understand. My father thinks I’m worth nothing, and?—”
“You are worth everything to me, Anderson,” he growls. “You are my legacy! If I have to twist your arm to get you to understand that, then I will!”
“My DNA is all over that warehouse, Dad. How am I going to be your legacy when I’m in a federal prison?”
At that, he laughs and sits back. The very picture of unbothered once more. He turns his laptop to face me. On it is full-color CCTV footage of the warehouse. Seeing myself there turns my stomach. It really does happen just as fast as I remember it. Things are fine, and then they are not.
Dad says, “It is good you got out from behind the crates. Most men don’t their first time.”
I say nothing, my attention rapt on the footage. It’s impossible not to flinch when Moss shoots the three in the head. All three were injured by that point, so it was easy for him. Then he collects me, and we leave.
A cold sweat breaks out over my entire body. “Why are you showing me this?”
“I don’t think you will end up in a federal prison, Anderson. This is the only footage of what happened, and I have it.”
This means if I don’t play ball, Dad will send me to federal prison with this footage. He holds all the cards now. He’s blackmailing me. Turnabout is fair play, or so they say.
I rake a hand through my hair. “What about DNA? Or the bodies? Or?—”
“Keep watching.”
After Moss and I leave, a team of people in black come in and take the bodies, cleaning the blood and making it appear as if no one was ever there. The warehouse is left with only crates and a forklift.
Dad says, “I do not leave things to chance. It’s bad business.”
My mouth is dry, and my knuckles ache to punch him. To wipe that smug look off his old face. But I have to keep my eye on the prize. “I need the money for June.”
“Ah yes, of course.” He bends down to his side, and I half expect him to sit up with a gun and shoot me. Instead, he pulls a small black duffle bag onto his desk. It sounds heavy for its size. He unzips it to show the contents. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills in bands. “Four hundred thousand, as agreed upon. Feel free to count it.”
“I will.”
“Don’t trust your old man?”
I yank the bag from him. “Why should I?”
“Because I got you the money. From my own accounts. Not yours. You have access to yours again, by the way. A gift from me to you.”
“It’s not a gift to give me access to my own money.”
“In your case, son, it is,” he says with a sigh. “But that’s neither here nor there, and I refuse to split hairs over trivial matters. What I meant is the cash is the gift. Something to appease your worries that I am heartless when it comes to June. I’m not. I like her. She’s a good fit for you. For this … life.”
“How dare you say that about her?” I hiss. What a wretched thing to say of her. I hate him. Everything about him. I don’t like him liking her. I don’t like him thinking about her at all. She is above him. Better than him.
Better than me, too. I’m pretty sure she didn’t kill anyone today.
He calmly says, “I mean it as a compliment. She is practical. Smart?—”
“Why did you risk my life for so little money, Dad? If I’m your legacy, then tell me why.” Even with everything else, as much as I hate him, it stings that he put me in harm”s way for what amounts to less than he spends on vacation.
He steeples his fingers and sighs. “Every day in this life is a risk. It could be for a small sum or for everything we have. But breathing while holding so much in my hands is a risk. It is not the money that makes the risk worth it. It is maintaining our reputation. Bobby didn’t owe much. But if I let his debt slide, the next guy will want the same consideration. And the next, and so on. Before we know it, this life is over. The firm collapses. Hundreds of people are out of work. We are poor … reputation is everything.”
“How do you build your reputation on this if the bodies aren’t found?”
“They will be. When I want them to be.”
I try not to let my mind wander into the specifics of that, but I can’t help it. Where does he keep the bodies in the meantime? What cursed refrigerator houses Bobby’s body? What are the names of his two dead friends? But the most important question of all has nothing to do with any of that.
How am I getting out of this?
“Shouldn’t you be going, son? Don’t want to miss the kidnapper’s cutoff time. No telling what they might cut off.”
Right. Still playing that role. Without a word, I nod and take the money. No point in counting it right now. I have to pretend I’m in a hurry.
As I reach the door, he says, “The first time is always the worst, Anderson. It gets easier from here.”
The first time murdering people or the first time paying a ransom for the woman I love? I don’t ask the question. Dragging out a conversation is the last thing I want to do. Just being in my father’s presence is enough to make me want to peel my skin off. I feel like I’ll never be clean. The men’s screams replay in my mind again and again. All I do is nod once and walk out the door.