Chapter 41
CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE
DAX
I’m not sure if it’s the smell of the jerk chicken or the adrenaline coursing through Cindel, but she manages to throw up two more times between my car and the front door to my apartment.
My arm steadies her quaking body, wrapped firmly around her waist, as we steadily climb the small staircase beside ‘Caribbean Cuisine.’ I can’t say I’ve ever felt more self-conscious than right now, but having her here in my home makes me feel…
exposed. This life has conditioned me to keep my true-self concealed at all times.
I’m not sure if I know how to let my guard down.
Her eyes bounce around the room nervously as she lowers herself onto the couch.
She’s quietly assessing, rigid despite the soft seat.
I leave the room for only a moment, to grab the first aid kit in the bathroom, coming back to find her legs pulled into herself, still surveying the space.
I give a low-intensity whistle just as I enter the room, so as not to spook the already uneasy girl.
She’s had a rough go in recent days. I wouldn’t trust anyone at this point, especially not me.
Unhurried, I clean and bandage the wound on her arm.
Then head to the kitchen to fetch a glass full of water and a half-eaten box of sour, gummy worms from the counter.
It’s a new habit I picked up from the blue-eyed goddess in my living room.
I never allowed myself to enjoy something as trivial as candy until I was entrusted to watch her.
When I turn the corner, I find Cindel is no longer where I left her.
After checking the hallway, the bathroom, and the office, I find her in my bedroom of all places with her back to me, frozen before my bed.
She’s still, simply taking in the space including the wall surrounding my bed.
Shit. I was hoping to disclose this at a later time.
I place the drink and most likely stale candy on the dresser beside me.
She doesn’t even turn to acknowledge my presence, instead, she steps closer to the wall, reaching out to trace the circular, wooden frame. I remain motionless, patient. Unsure if her current state will yield a negative reaction to this new finding. Long moments pass as she takes it all in.
Suddenly, she turns to face me. “How…?” she marvels. Her vast ocean orbs, teeming with red swollen exhaustion. She looks down to the floor, then back up to me. “It was you! You’re the one who bought them.” More of a realization than a question.
Her skin appears a touch paler, and I worry she may start to cry, pass out, or even puke again. It could be any of the three, and I gauge how far away I am from catching her versus the closest bin.
Cindel returns to scanning the wall that was bare up until recently.
Her gaze eventually travels back to me. Color returns to her cheeks, reassuring me she’s not about to fall over.
I roll back my shoulders, bracing for however she may react.
I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done, but how she feels, what she thinks…
matters more than anything at this point. This is all so new to me.
The next question out of her mouth makes things more complicated, “Why?”
I didn’t even know why. How was I supposed to answer that?
As I reflect, I try to look anywhere but at her tired, desperate face.
I’m drawn to an intriguing dark knot that resembles a sheep, on one of the wooden floorboards.
My throat feels tighter than usual. Instinctively, I rub at the irregular, raised scar across my neck.
Ultimately, my eyes climb back up to hers and I shrug. Yeah… I’m a full-fledged asshat.
With eyes blown out, mascara slightly smudged, her face is unreadable…
a sleeping volcano, of possible cataclysmic destruction.
I watch as her face morphs. The corners of her eyes wrinkle, pink lips turn upward, and her cheeks puff out.
She folds in on herself, grabbing her stomach and laughs.
A full-on belly laugh, complete with an animated head toss.
Damnit. I think I broke her. Decisively, I remain unmoved, just watching as she ultimately collects herself, and wipes a rogue tear from under her eye.
“What a crap-tastic week. Seriously, I don’t think anything else could possibly surprise me at this point.”
If she only knew.
She moves past me, as if nothing had transpired, nabbing the box of sour worms on her way out.
I follow her out of the room, a few steps behind.
Cindel drops a yellow and red gummy into her mouth, after plopping back down onto the worn sofa.
Following suit, I position myself on the arm of an adjacent chair, watching this incredible creature go from zero to sixty, with only one citric-acid chew.
Phone in hand, I type out a message for her to read, as she continues to polish off her snack.
I extended the screen toward her. “Do you want to talk about it?” My phone vibrates at the same time as she views my message. Tipping the screen back toward me, I catch the banner across the top.
Warden: I’m disappointed in you, son. I thought you would be the one to handle this.
I can’t help but notice how Cindel lowers her gaze even farther.
She definitely saw that. Crap. Nothing too damning was said, right?
I mean… aren’t all fathers disappointed in their sons to some degree?
I wish I knew what she was thinking. Subtitles that just materialized right above her when she wasn’t speaking.
There’s no stopping this trajectory. It’s inevitable.
Cindel will find out the truth. If given the option, I would remove the only one who knows how I truly relate to all of this.
That answer was clear… but could I really kill my warden?
Everything is different. No longer will I be forced to do his bidding.
She’s mine. Fuck the game plan. She unwraps one of her arms from her body and drops another colored worm into her mouth.
All at once I realize, I need her more than she needs me.
Yes… I pursued her. Watched her. Manipulated her…
but she’s come this far because of her own determination.
She never changed. I did. Cindel simply recognized who she’s been all along.
When I swore to protect her, she was the one to save herself.
I may have destroyed plenty of lives over the years, but she has the power to destroy me.
I wish we could hide from all of this. I want nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder and worship her for days in a remote cabin in the woods.
Regardless of how I want time to stand still, I know she needs closure.
She is within arm’s reach of answers and I am not about to pull her away.
I couldn’t live with myself if I robbed her of this.
My only question now is, will she still want to keep me, once she knows who I am?
“Jada destroyed it,” Cindel finally asserts.
She sounds so broken. “The only proof I had.” It’s hard to tell if she’s about to cry or is completely disconnected from reality.
I fight the urge to reach for her, I know she has more to disclose.
“There was a recording on the drive. It was a video at some old warehouse, by the bay. My brother witnessed my uncle and two other men meeting.”
I can’t breathe. Warehouse? The warehouse? Was I there?! Could she have seen me in the video? I dare not draw breath. I wait, listen, and try to remain still as she shares at her own pace.
“I didn’t see one of the men in the video.
Theo logged that the younger man left, before he was able to start recording.
” She chews her bottom lip while collecting her thoughts.
Cindel licks her lips and continues. “The man my uncle was talking to looked familiar. I don’t know how, but I could have sworn I’ve seen him somewhere before. Maybe an old friend of his?”
I know exactly who she is referring to and yes, he was indeed a long-time accomplice of my father’s, but he’s not around anymore.
He’s the one who took the blame for Mary’s death.
Nicholas placed him into the Murray's circle, years prior. When my father found himself needing an out, he pushed his “friend” to the front of the line. He took the blame for a senseless act of violence. Shot on the spot. Years later, I still can’t fathom why he took the life of Mary Murray.
Maybe to start a war? There’s no questioning what drives the great Nicholas Lombardi.