19. Connor
CONNOR
It was the worst phone call of my life.
I picked up when the police rang. Rowan was late, but that happened sometimes.
She took dance lessons at a special private tutor across town, and she loved to ride the bus.
I arranged for a family guard to keep her safe and escort her, but he couldn’t control the flow of NYC traffic.
It wasn’t unusual for her to show up an hour late exhausted and moaning about overturned tractor trailers.
Dad and Danielle rode with me. I drove fast, weaving through midtown to reach Bellevue Hospital.
I’d been in this place a dozen times already at that point from my time pre-boss and the early days of my ascension, when fighting was common and I was consolidating our power. I knew my way to the emergency room.
Danielle broke down when she saw Rowan’s face covered in gauze. There’s a lot I hate about my stepmother, but I never once doubted how much she cares for her daughter. I’ll never forget the way Danielle held Rowan, crying so hard her shoulders shook, as I stood back and let relief flood through me.
Not dead. Not broken. Hurt, maybe scarred, but she’d be okay.
It was later, maybe an hour after, that I began to ask questions. Nurses are always willing to talk when they’re bored, and a pretty young girl directed me to a few police officers hanging around downstairs.
Those cops told me a story, about a bus getting side-swiped by a speeding drunk, about a fire in the engine, about bodies burned to a crisp. And that’s when I first heard about you.
I planned on saying thanks. That’s all I wanted, to thank you for saving my little sister’s life.
They told me how people saw you go back for Rowan, how you ripped yourself up crawling over broken glass to pull a total stranger from a nasty fire.
They told me you sat with her afterwards and didn’t want to leave her alone.
How you only let her go when you were both safe and in the hospital.
Then I saw you lying in the bed. You were asleep.
A teenager, probably the same age Rowan is now.
A normal girl, I realized. Pretty in an awkward way.
I watched you for a while, wondering where your family was.
Why weren’t your parents there? Didn’t anyone know what happened to you?
I asked around, but nobody knew if anyone was coming to check on you.
I made you a promise. You never knew. I didn’t want to wake you up. But I swore to you, right there, that I’d look after you the way you looked after my little sister. I’d do everything in my power to make sure you were always safe and cared for, no matter what happened.
I left you sleeping. I never mentioned you to Rowan.
How could I explain it? I decided to stalk your savior?
It wouldn’t have made any sense. She would’ve called me crazy, and I would’ve deserved it.
But I learned your name and I burned it across my heart, because you gave me the gift of my little sister’s life, and there was no way I could ever repay you.
Angelina Bellandi.
The girls stare at me in stunned silence. I pour myself a drink. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” I return to my desk and slump down in my chair. “Feels strange saying it out loud.”
“Strange?” Rowan puts her palms against her forehead. “My brother’s a psycho. Holy shit.”
“You already knew that.”
“Yeah, but this is a whole new level.” She looks at Angelina. “You really had no idea?”
“I really didn’t know.” My wife’s watching me with a wary and puzzled expression. I wish I could read her thoughts right now. How does a person hear a story like that and make sense of it? She’s going to be afraid of me, and I don’t blame her one bit.
“Well, this is insane. How long were you watching her for? What were you doing? Like creeping outside her house in the bushes?”
“There aren’t any bushes outside of her apartment building.”
“Oh my god! You know where she lives?!” Rowan slaps the arms of her chair. “Connor, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
“A lot,” I say, watching for any reaction from Angie that might give me a hint to how she’s feeling. “Too much.”
My wife reaches out and touches Rowan’s hand. “Do you mind… if me and Connor talk for a bit?”
Rowan shifts toward her. “He just dropped an enormous bomb. You sure you want to be alone with him?”
“It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” Angie’s mouth pulls into a slight smile. “If anything goes wrong, you can pull me out, right? Listen out for the screaming.”
Rowan grins back. “Good point. Hopefully, he does something stupid and I can make us even.” She gets up and walks to the door. My sister turns back, her eyes flat on me. “Behave yourself, asshole.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me and Angie alone.
I sit in the silence. Angie’s watching me warily and I wish I knew what she was thinking. How does a person come to grips with finding out that their husband has been stalking them for years?
I pictured this moment a dozen times since I saw her sleeping in that hospital bed. What I’d say if she ever realized what I’ve been doing. How I’d make her understand. But now, facing it, I find all my words are gone.
“I have questions,” she says at last, which sounds like the greatest understatement imaginable. “And I want straight answers.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Have you been following me?”
I rap a knuckle on the desk. “If you’re asking if I’ve been lurking outside of your building every day in a black ski mask, the answer is no.”
“Have you been watching? Everything I’ve done?”
“More or less.”
“How? And why?”
I get up. I can’t help myself. I pour a drink and down it. “I wanted to repay you. That’s how it started. I thought I could do something for you without revealing myself. I didn’t want to draw you into my world any more than you already were. Those days were very dangerous for my family.”
“More dangerous than now?”
“Nearly.” I take the chair Rowan vacated.
Now we’re on equal footing and no desk between us.
“There were nights I swore I’d stop, told myself I’d done enough, and weeks would go by without checking on you.
Then I’d find myself typing your name into Google, or asking a lieutenant to look in on you, and the cycle would start again. ”
“God, Connor, this is crazy.”
“This—“ I gesture between us and down at her belly. “This was never the plan. I swear on my life. I swear on my family’s name. I never, ever thought we’d end up like this. I never wanted it.”
Her cheeks turn red and maybe I’m wrong but that only seems to frustrate her. “Good to know you didn’t impregnate me on purpose. Sorry to have disappointed you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Why didn’t you just talk to me? Why didn’t you just thank me like a normal person?”
“Because I’m not a normal person.”
She bites her lip and gets to her feet. “I’m aware of that.” She paces away, scrubbing her forehead with her palm. “God, this is insane. You’ve been behind all of it, haven’t you?” She stops and looks back. “How did you know about NYU?”
“I bribed admissions.”
Her mouth drops open in shock. A shiver runs through her. “No, no, you didn’t do that. Did you seriously do that?”
“You would have gotten in, but I made sure of it.”
She gapes before bursting out in laughter so hard it doubles her over. I watch, swirling my drink, and take a sip. The bourbon’s sharp and smoky, and I start to worry that Angie’s going to laugh so hard she’ll injure the baby. I’m about to calm her when she backs away.
“I was so proud of that acceptance letter. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve told myself, at least I got into NYU?
I’m living at home with my stoner mom, but at least I got into NYU.
I’m working a crappy data entry job, but at least I got into NYU.
Every single time I felt bad about myself since I got that letter, I’ve let it raise me back up, and it’s not even that hard of a school to get into.
It made me feel smart, you know? Like I accomplished something.
And now I’m finding out that it was you. It was all you.”
“No, angel?—“
“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” She rips a book from the shelf and hurls it across the room.
She’s not laughing anymore. Her chest rises and falls quickly as I climb to my feet, holding out a calming hand.
“I’m not your anything, do you hear me? I’m a captive here.
I’m being held at gunpoint. You like that, don’t you? ”
“No, Angelina. I don’t.”
“Liar. Fucking liar. It’s all been a game, right? You stalk me, knock me up, force me to marry you, invent some war?—“
“The war is real. You saw the blood.”
“I don’t know what I saw. I don’t know what any of this is.” She staggers away from me. “I have to go.”
“Angelina—“
“Leave me alone.” She flings open the door right as Rowan’s about to come back inside.
“Wait, Angelina.”
But Rowan shakes her head at me, taking Angie by the arm. Later, she mouths and guides Angie away, rubbing her back as my wife sobs into her hands.
I stare at the gap they leave behind. The book lying on the floor flipped open to a random page. The words smearing in my vision.
I slam a fist against my desk, feeling the pain, living in it.
God, she’s right.
This is what I do.
Everything I love breaks in the end. I take, I control, I dominate, and for what? For the family?
I really am as sick as she thinks.
I’m about to refill my glass and get drunk enough that I can’t feel anything anymore when my phone rings. It’s Deck and I’m tempted to ignore it.
But I’m a boss at war and he’s my top soldier.
“We got a problem.” Deck doesn’t sound happy, which means it’s probably not the kind of problem that dies.
“What’s going on?”
“Lorcan Gallagher’s at the west salvage yard. He’s there in the open and he wants to talk.”
I grunt in surprise. Lorcan’s the middle brother. I figured I’d hear from Fergus, but his approach was probably the attack the other night.
“I’ll be over in ten. Keep an eye on him.”
“You want me to secure the perimeter?”
“Do what you can without spooking him.”
“We should just shoot him, boss. I could get a sniper in place?—“
“I want to hear what he has to say first.”
I hang up. Fucking Gallaghers. I gaze longingly at the hall, wishing I could go after Angie and make her understand?—
But Rowan’s right. I have to let my wife settle first before we can talk.