46. Carter
FORTY-SIX
CARTER
It’s a bit of a surreal feeling, waking up today knowing that while this is the beginning of the rest of my life, it’s also my father’s final day on Earth.
Obviously, it has to be this way.
Tyson, Jasper and I wouldn’t ever be able to breathe easily, worried that at any second my father would find us, his looming presence hovering over our heads and ruining any chance we had at a clean escape.
It doesn’t make it easy, though, as the humanity that courses through my veins is reminded of the fact that for nearly twenty years, he was my best friend.
My father may be a ruthless killer, a cruel mafioso, and a thoughtless business man, but when I was growing up, he was my entire world.
I wouldn’t be the Carter Cassini that my boys love unconditionally if it weren’t for my upbringing, and although I know what I need to do, it isn’t lost on me that the enemy Tyson and Jasper are so hellbent on destroying, is the person who created exactly what they’d die to protect.
Flashes of memories flood through me as we follow his SUV through the desert, reminders of him teaching me how to ride a bike, the father-daughter dances that were mandatory until his doctors advised against it, and most of all, the ways in which he turned me into his right-hand woman.
In my own twisted head, I decided that I’d dress in my signature funeral color for the occasion, choosing a flowy black skirt with leggings, and a tight tank top that keeps me free.
Tyson and Jasper opted for bullet proof vests, cargo pants, and heavy ass boots, but all that gear is just going to weigh them down.
I’m most comfortable when I’m unapologetically myself, and even though my torture scars could be seen for miles, I’ve learned to embrace those parts, too.
Still, something isn’t adding up, my father not being amongst the bodies from the SUV beginning to drive me mad, but Jasper’s leashed himself to me, keeping my feet on solid ground as I try to put together the last few pieces of a puzzle without a clear picture.
Spinning around, I search the open road for clues, wondering if the second car is going to pull up at any second, but it’s eerily silent out here, fear creeping up my spine as the seconds pass.
Jasper subtly brings me back to reality once more, tugging me forward and leading me toward the men Tyson wrangled from the toppled SUV, each of them zip tied and lying face down on the ground.
Surveying the damage, I lift the head of each man we captured, a few of them I recognize, some I don’t, but with a total of six hostages, we at least have bargaining chips, creating a silver lining in this plan that was supposed to go off without a hitch, but ended up being a disaster.
As I approach the last man, the tattoos on his hand stand out in my mind, and when I order him to sit up, the scar on his cheek brings back memories, but before I can question him further, another car joins the party behind us, and everything clicks into place.
Within seconds, we’re surrounded on all sides, men in black suits with guns aimed at the three of us fanning out to cover each quadrant of our space, and like clockwork, my father steps out from the back seat, his eyes immediately landing on me.
“Richards doesn’t drive for me anymore,” he says with a chuckle, the coldness in his voice proving that he’s in full Don mode, and although I want to drop my head in defeat, I stand strong as I face my father head-on for the first time since he stole me from Emory.
It’s been months since I looked at my father, always keeping our proximity to one another non-existent, but now that I’m actually looking into the bright blue eyes that are identical to mine, I can see how close to death he is.
Of course, he still has incredible fashion sense, the ‘Father of the Bride’ suit he’s donning is tailored to perfection, and the shade of pink he’s chosen as his tie is charming.
He absolutely looks the part, and at quick glance, nobody would believe that he sold my hand for the marriage, forcing his precious daughter into a partnership from hell.
“Not since his wife threatened to kill you if you guys ended up in another ditch,” I sarcastically laugh, the memories flooding me from the days they’d sip vodka and knock runners off the roads for their insubordination.
Caught up in my fantasy of revenge, I completely missed that detail when we combed through surveillance this morning, and I should’ve caught this – should’ve known we were heading straight into an ambush.
My father is nothing but calculated, and I’ve fallen right into his trap, staring at an army of guns as we find ourselves in the middle of a standoff.
“Bring her to me,” my father orders, but Jasper immediately jumps in front of a gun, inserting himself between a guard, and my body.
“We can speak from here,” he says protectively, keeping one arm around me, the other holding a weapon trained on the guard stalking toward us.
“Son, I’m not speaking to you. Carter, now,” my father says, his words slow but powerful, and like the trained poodle I am, I shimmy from Jasper’s grip, crossing the sand toward what will either be my greatest victory, or gruesome demise.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Carter,” Tyson hisses through his teeth, but instead of pushing him away, I hold my hand out to his, encouraging him with my eyes to be my escort.
This is between my father and I, but we never negotiated terms, and if he can have an army of men within arms reach, so can I.
“If I’m not walking down an aisle today, the least I can do is feel like a princess before I’m reduced to nothing but a peasant at your mercy,” I quip, the sarcastic ass that lives within me unable to miss a moment to shine light on how ridiculous of a situation we’re in.
“So much to say, but never anything of use, Duchess,” he states, shaking his head in disappointment at my smart mouth, but as I stand tall against him, I don’t feel a single tether leading me back to the life I used to live.
With Jasper to my left, his watchful eyes burning a hole through my skin, and Tyson to my right, his protective energy radiating into my bones, I tap into the source of power they bring me, attempting to use it to my advantage.
“You lost, Daddy. There’s no groom, no wedding, and certainly no heir to your precious throne, so why go through all of this … just to get me back?” I taunt, noting how his face slightly contorts at my words, his mask slipping for just a brief moment.
“I don’t lose, you know better than that,” he stoically remarks, his false sense of bravado in the face of the unknown almost comical.
With a snap of his fingers, two red dots appear on Jasper and Tyson’s foreheads, the gunmen perched on the hood and sunroof of his SUV, but I just shrug it off, not letting him see how the thought of losing my boys incites fear in every single molecule that makes up my body.
With every tug and pull, my father and I are catching each other off guard, proving just how well we play a rousing game of cat and mouse, but showing how far we’ll go to be the sole winner.
“It’s time to come home, Carter. Which one of these boys do you love more?
When faced with the choice, who will you let die in order to keep defying me?
” He challenges, holding his arms wide open as if he were the King of the world, but I’ve bowed down to him once in the name of protecting my boys, and I don’t plan on making it a habit.
Slowly, I shuffle my feet until I’m crossing the imaginary line, meeting my father in the middle until his desiccating frame towers over mine, but I refuse to feel small under his rule for another second.
Before I can utter a plea, a smart remark, or unleash the string of curse words that are dancing on the tip of my tongue, he pulls me in for a hug, my arms falling at my sides while his cocoon me into an embrace that feels nothing like comfort.
He’s a shell of the man I grew up admiring, almost a skeleton as his bones crack around mine, but I inhale a deep breath, gently pulling back with the fakest smile I can manage painted on my face.
“There’s my Duchess,” he smiles back, but it’s just as genuine as mine, and before I can react, he wraps an arm around my throat, spinning my back against his front, holding a gun to my head as I’m forced to open my eyes to Tyson and Jasper’s.
Jasper lunges first, his feet catching the rest of his body as the reminder of a target painted on his forehead prevents him from taking a single step in my direction.
Tyson stays calm, his voice-of-reason attitude remaining his strongest quality, but I can read through his tough act, the pain exuding from his body and materializing in the air as their worst fears play out in real time.
“Jasper. Do it!” I yell, not caring about preservation, negotiation, or retribution, only the slim promise of freedom that I made when conjuring up this exact scenario.
As a former prisoner, I refuse to go back to the confines of his castle, and all I have left is the hope that Jasper can honor our deal, putting an end to my misery.
“Carter, we can get out of this.” His icy silver irises finally meet mine, practically begging me not to make him do this, but we’re exactly where I said we’d be, and I’m not backing down.
“Jasper, you fucking promised me. Pull the damn trigger!” I scream, giving up all fight as I release my nails from my father’s arms, dropping my hands to my sides as if I were surrendering, slowly nodding my head to let him know that it’s okay.
“What do you want, money? Take it all! Just let her go. She belongs to us,” Tyson chimes in, interrupting our standoff, but my father only chuckles in response, fully enjoying the desperation in both my boys, the sadistic version of him that I grew up with showing itself.
“Jasper.” I repeat, but his eyes shift from mine, down to my thigh, then back up again, and we’re thrown into one of our silent conversations, but rather than continue my plea for death, I’m clued into what he’s trying to convey.