Chapter 6 - Athena
We park outside a massive warehouse. It’s double the size of the rest of them, lined up on this strip in the industrial sector.
“My brother-in-law and I run this warehouse together. It’s one of our joint operations,” he explains as we climb out of the car.
“Who is your brother-in-law?” I ask.
“Viktor Nikolai,” Adrian replies.
“Oh, that name is familiar. But I’m not sure where I’ve heard it.”
“His family owns a number of businesses, so I imagine you might have seen something in Times magazine or perhaps the paper,” he shrugs.
I look up, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the glaring sun. In the winter, the sun seems harsher to look at. But I think it’s more about the snow reflecting the light than anything else.
At least the snow from last night has stopped, and the ground around the industrial area is clear and ice-free.
The air is still frigid, though, and I pull my coat tighter around me to try and keep the chill from reaching my bones.
My toes are cold even though I put on two pairs of socks this morning and a pair of gloves.
Adrian notices and puts his arm around me.
“It’ll be warmer inside, come on,” he says, guiding me toward the entrance.
It’s strange how protective he is. And how observant he is of the little things.
Most people wouldn’t pay attention to someone else tightening their coat.
Especially not if the person is practically a stranger to you.
He is exactly the type of man I would want to be with.
The type of man I would want to date. I mean, apart from being in the mafia!
It’s strange to acknowledge that I’ve never been with any man.
Someone like Adrian would never want someone like me. He’d get bored. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to please a man. Never mind a man like him. Why in the world am I even thinking such things?
I glance up at Adrian. He’s not looking at me; he’s looking toward the warehouse.
Dammit, he’s so sexy. Especially when his lips curl into a smile as he spots someone he knows coming out of the warehouse.
“Antonio! Thanks for meeting me here,” he says.
“No problem, sir. I’ve set up what you wanted in the office.”
Antonio turns to me and smiles, “Good morning,” he says, holding out his hand.
I pull my glove off and shove it into my pocket, then shake his hand. “Hello,” I smile. His hand is warm and large.
“This is Athena,” Adrian introduces us. “Antonio is my right-hand man.”
Smiling tightly, I stand quietly while they talk about things that have nothing to do with me. A shipment. A client who wants a quote. My eyes peer into the warehouse, trying to see what’s going on inside there. “Shit, sorry, we’re talking out here, and you’re already cold,” Adrian chuckles.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, biting at my bottom lip. “As ready as I will ever be,” I shrug.
Antonio smiles tightly. He’s giving me a pitying look, which makes me think he knows what’s going on. My cheeks flush pink with embarrassment. What must he think about my family?
Adrian nods goodbye to Antonio, and we head into the warehouse.
It’s busy. And noisy.
But very well organized. People are coming and going, but they all look like they know what they are doing and where they need to be.
As we walk, they greet Adrian with a wave and a smile.
Another man comes to talk to him, and he excuses us, saying he has something to attend to first. He glances at me.
Then the man nods and leaves.
“It’s up in the office, it’s set up and ready,” he explains, guiding me toward the corrugated steel stairway that leads to an upper floor with an office that has a long window that overlooks the warehouse floor space.
Inside the office, it’s much warmer.
I guess it’s difficult to keep heat inside a warehouse when massive doors are opening and closing at the same time as people and trucks come and go.
He gestures for me to take a seat in front of the computer. I sit.
My heart is racing. I know I asked for this, but I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
Although… everything that has already happened.
This is sort of the last knife twist. The final thing that will either make or break the looping thoughts in my mind that want to defend my father.
It’s like I can see what he’s done, but I’m desperate for an explanation that doesn’t paint him in a bad light.
Adrian stands behind my chair and leans over me. His cologne distracts me from my thoughts, and I take advantage of the distraction to calm my mind by taking in a slow, deep breath. Dammit, this man smells amazing. I close my eyes.
He looks amazing. He’s been protective of me…
But I can’t shake the idea that it’s all a game to him. Like he’s playing me somehow and tricking me about my father.
I open my eyes. And he’s got a program on the laptop ready and waiting.
“All you need to do is push play when you’re ready,” he says gently.
“Is this security footage?” I ask, my heart tense again.
“Yes, from this warehouse.”
I nod. The anxiety knots inside me like a snake as I reach out and place my hand over the mouse.
One little tap of a button and the video starts playing. It’s clear. High quality. And it’s unmistakably my father who is walking across the warehouse floor.
He looks nervous and agitated, glaring over his shoulder as he adjusts the gym bag in his hand. It looks empty, weightless.
Someone moves in the far corner of the warehouse, and my father hurriedly ducks behind a wall of crates. He waits. The person moves on. My father comes out again and walks faster toward a truck.
He moves fast, dropping the bag on the ground, and he climbs into the back of the truck and stands just near the opening.
You can see half into the truck at the rear.
My father is piling unknown items near the back door.
He works quickly, constantly peering out of the truck to make sure no one is coming.
Then he hops down from the truck and grabs the gym bag, quickly shoving those items into it.
I count. I don’t know why I count, but I do.
Seven square bricks of something. Something lightweight and easy to carry. He lifts the bag onto his shoulder, and with one last glance and a creepy, massive smile on his face, he runs toward the exit and out of the camera’s view.
I sit quietly, staring at the video even though it’s stopped playing.
After a long moment of drawn-out silence, Adrian says, “We have the footage from inside the truck as well, if you would like to see it?”
I shake my head. There really isn’t any point.
Adrian moves from behind the chair and leans against the desk next to the computer, looking down at me.
He waits, watching my face, but I find that I can’t look up at him.
“My father stole all of that from you,” I mutter. It’s not a question. It’s just an observation that I need to say out loud.
Adrian nods.
“He did.”
I’m waiting for him to gloat. I’m waiting for the I-told-you-so. For him to run it in my face. But he reaches out and gently touches my shoulder. “Are you ok?” he asks quietly.
I start nodding, but then stop. I shake my head. “Not really,” I mutter. “My dad is a thief. And the way he smiled at the end… it was… it was creepy…” My throat is closing over the words as a lump forms. I clear my throat, fighting the tears because crying now would be horribly embarrassing.
Adrian pushes off from the desk.
“I’ll give you some time alone. I’m right downstairs if you need me, okay?. I won’t go far. But take as long as you want.”
He glances at me, then at the computer.
He decides to leave it on, in case I want to watch it again. I don’t. I don’t ever want to see that smile again.
Adrian gently touches my shoulder one more time, then leaves me in silence.
The tears roll quietly down my cheeks.
There is nothing I can think of to explain or excuse him now. My father is a thief. He didn’t look stressed about it. He didn’t look coerced. His face kind of said it all.
And now that I’ve seen the video, all of the other evidence is suddenly becoming clearer. Evidence that I was very adamantly trying to explain away or deny.
He held me at gunpoint.
He sold me to a stranger to clear his own debt.
He didn’t try to reach out or check that I was ok afterward; he went gambling and drinking with his friends in some dodgy bar.
He stole from Adrian.
My head floods all at once with each piece of truth until the image I have had of my father completely breaks away and gets replaced with reality.
Every time he asked me for money for smokes. Every time I worked a late shift, I could buy extra food for him. When his rent was late, I depleted my savings to cover him for the month.
Every single time he took from me, and how he played it. The soft pout. The puppy eyes. The ad, gentle demeanor of a man doing his best and just needing a little help.
It was all a ruse.
He played me.
He manipulated me.
And he’s been doing it for a very long time.
I sigh, leaning forward in the chair and pressing my hands against my eyes. There is a dull headache forming at the base of my skull.
I owe Adrian an apology.
The thought makes me look up. I should go find him.
I turn the chair toward the massive window and let my eyes roam lazily over the warehouse floor. My emotions are a bit of a wreck. I’m still fighting little surges of tears and trying to absorb the shock of it all.
Adrian still took me. I remind myself.
Yes, but he took my father and me, let it happen. And after he took me, what did he actually do? Did he hurt me? Did he treat me badly? No.
I have questions, though. What does he want from me? Does he really view me as payment for my father’s debts, and if so, what does he expect me to do in return?
My stomach twists. No. He would have already made his demands of me.
He’s been patient with me.
He’s even given me space when I locked myself away in my room.
The only person I should really be furious with is my father.
I’ve been directing my anger at Adrian all this time, when he isn’t the one to blame for this mess.
It’s my father.
Ricardo Mendelez. A man I don’t even truly know.
I stand up from the chair and walk toward the open door.
It’s odd because right now, I could try to escape. And apart from the fact that I agreed to Adrian’s conditions last night, I don’t actually want to.
I think the problem is that I have nowhere to go.
My apartment won’t still be waiting for me.
I missed the rent. The small amount of my belongings would have been tossed out onto the street by now by my asshole of a landlord, who never gave me a minute’s rest. He would be banging on my door a week before rent was due.
Once or twice, he even let himself into my apartment to find me, even when I wasn’t behind on payments.
He was creepy. Unkind. Gross. There is no way he’s left my things all waiting nicely for me.
Best-case scenario, they are boxed up and shoved into the back of the laundry room beneath the building. But honestly, there is nothing there worth going back for. Nothing sentimental.
And my job? I disappeared and haven’t called them for weeks.
I don’t have a job anymore. That’s not how the world works.
So, I have nothing to go back to.
No apartment, no job… no family.
The warehouse is massive and slightly daunting without Adrian at my side. People smile at me, and I smile back, but I feel out of place.
“Do you know where Adrian is?” I ask a tall, skinny man holding a clipboard.
“He’s around back, you go through those doors there and into the storage area,” he says, pointing vaguely.
“Thanks,” I mutter, moving on.
As I step through the doors, I hear a loud bang. It vibrates through my entire body, setting every hair standing straight up. My breath is shoved from my lungs, and my eyes shoot wide.
I’ve never heard a gunshot before, but as soon as I do, I know what it is.
Another one. Just as loud. Just as terrifying.
Someone screams.
A man rushes from behind me, pushing me forward as he runs toward the chaos. I got pushed right into the storage area, right into the danger zone.
Stumbling, I grab onto a nearby crate and stare in disbelief. Somewhere inside my mind, I know I’m in shock, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.
Everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time. It’s so loud as bullets stream through the air, splattering crates, piercing bodies.
Blood splatters like a red mist from a man standing next to me. He drops to the ground, screaming in agony as he clutches his side. Blood immediately coats his hand, spilling like paint through his spread fingers.
Bright red.
Too red.
“Athena!”
I hear his voice. I recognize it. But it doesn’t register anything.
My eyes drift, wide and horrified, across the scene.
“Athena, get down!” His voice again. But the words don’t mean anything. My body doesn’t belong to me. Fear has taken over, and I
A bullet whips past my hair, moving it like a soft breeze. Except it’s not soft. It’s loud, rushing, and terrifying. But still, I can’t move.
I see him running toward me. I see his lips moving.
But still…. I can’t move.