Chapter 73 #3
“Your father beat your mother! Your grandfather treated her like garbage! Nothing changed after Anastasia was born,” I shouted down at her, a heavy hand slamming against the table.
“And you know what happened to her, kid? Do you know what happened to your sister after all those years of abuse? Did you know how much abuse she went through?”
“She ran away! She had to!” Quincy’s eyes swam with tears.
“You don’t have to fucking tell me my father was abusive.
I lived it. I know it. I know what it felt like to grow up in the dark, chained up, begging for someone to love me—just like Quinntessa is doing to you. She just wants you to care about her!”
“Anastasia went into Witness Protection, Quincy.”
I lowered into my chair and extended a photo of Anastasia hidden within all the pictures of my daughter. A tear rolled down Quincy’s cheek. She leaned opposite of the photo, taking multiple glances before forcing herself to look away.
“She helped put away your Uncle Veskelti. You knew him best as Kelce.” I lowered my voice, hoping a little extra push would knock her over the line.
“She has kids, a husband who loves her. You do this for me, and I’ll put you, your mother, and your daughter into Witness Protection. No one will ever touch you again.”
A tear fell down Quincy’s face as she finally accepted the photo from me.
“You’ll finally be free.”
Her watery gaze lifted to mine.
“I’ll never be free,” she whispered. “Look at me. Look who I am.”
“Quinn, please.” I reached across the table and took her shaky hands. “Let me help you. Let me put this man behind bars for all he’s done to you.”
She ripped her hands back and scoffed.
“You only want me out so I can protect Quinntessa from the bullshit of being in Chicago.”
“I can protect my child just fine.” I tilted my head. “But you’d be able to go to college, same as her. You can be friends.”
“Friends,” Quincy mumbled.
“Don’t you want?—”
A sense of dread washed over me when Quincy’s body language shifted. She lifted her head high and roughly wiped the tears from her face.
“I want to counter.” She chewed on her lip. “I want out this week. I want out before prom.”
“Hold on—” I quickly realized where this was going.
“I want to take your daughter to prom.” Quincy smirked. “I want to take pictures with my friends. I want to graduate. I want to see my daughter’s preschool graduation.”
“July gives you time to say goodbye to your friends inside.”
“I don’t want Quinntessa in Chicago.” Quincy leaned forward and shoved the photos of Quinntessa off the table.
They flew around the room, loud flutters breaking over her laughter.
“I don’t want to be her fucking friend. I want to be all in with her.
I want us to have dog children and-and-and go feed dumb cows. ”
“Consider her offer, Agent,” I heard the horrific words in my earpiece. “She’s coming around. We’ll have eyes on her.”
I ground my teeth and stared directly up at the young woman’s waiting eyes. She bounced lightly on her feet, her calves lifting like a child waiting for their ice cream pop.
“You have to be an informant to be anywhere near my daughter. You’ll work under the FBI. You have to listen to our rules.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll play your little games, but I hope you’re prepared to play mine.”
“I don’t play games, Quinn.” I leaned back and crossed my arms. “You’re either in or you’re out.”
“I don’t know.” She squinted and leaned closer. “Do I get to go to prom with your little Qupid?”
“Romero. You need to make a choice.”
“Are you going to work well with others and tell us the truth about what you experience?” I stood up to match her position. “Because I will have you arrested if a single hair on her head is harmed. She even looks uncomfortable, and I’ll have you back in your cell to rot.”
“You think I’d let some slimy bastards put their hands on my girl, Chris?” She chuckled. “You clearly don’t know how far I’d go for her. If she told me to eat dirt, I’d swallow a fucking graveyard.”
I blinked in surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for the Harrekson family to be territorial. I’d experienced it plenty in high school. I just wish it wasn’t over my daughter.
“If I’m asked to kill someone, can I?” she asked.
“You’ll have to keep up the expectations you’ve been given. You’d still be the authority, but remember, your actions still have consequences.”
“Perfect.”
I squinted at her. “I can’t promise full immunity until I see what information you can give me.”
“Fine, but a word of advice—” She gave me a sinister smile that reminded me all too well of her father.
Quincy fell into her chair and picked up one of the lone pictures of Quinntessa on the table. She breathed heavier, her eyes filling with some sick level of devotion as her fingers traced my daughter’s smile, a soft laugh escaping her.
I wanted to put her in the fucking electric chair.
“Keep the morgue open, Agent.” Her villainous eyes raised, and I was transported back to high school. “If Quinntessa goes to Chicago, I’ll be busy.”