Chapter Nineteen #2
And I was looking at him with the clear eyes of an adult, not the idolization of a child.
It was a lot for both of us.
“Can you sit? Please,” he asked, pressing a hand to the table.
I moved over to the table, draping my purse on the back of the chair, then lowering down.
“Okay. I feel you owe me an explanation.”
“You’re right. I do. I hate that this happened. I never meant to worry you like this. I know your nerves are… sensitive.”
“My nerves might be sensitive, but no one should be forced to believe their loved one is dead when they are clearly alive and well.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Dad…”
“Yeah, Nugget?”
“I still haven’t gotten an explanation.”
At that, he took in a breath so deep that his slumped shoulders squared and his chest shook.
“I got myself into some trouble.”
“Okay. What kind of trouble?” Maybe he did have some sort of addiction after all.
“I got myself involved with the wrong kind of people.”
My heartbeat galloped.
I was suddenly very thankful that I hadn’t mentioned my budding relationship with Gav.
“That thought had crossed my mind.”
“And I can’t get myself out from under it.”
My stomach twisted.
Gav hadn’t mentioned my father wanting out.
Was my father not the only one who wasn’t being honest with me?
And why did the idea of Gav being dishonest hurt more than my father?
“Okay.”
“No, you’re not taking this seriously enough, kiddo. These are bad people. Real bad. Dangerous.”
The face of the pizza man flashed across my mind.
Yeah.
They were definitely dangerous.
And that was just a little warning.
I didn’t want to think what would happen to someone who screwed them over.
As good as Gav had been to me, as kind as Leo was, as lovable as Zeno was, I couldn’t lose sight of the fact that they were all made men. They had all pledged vows. To the Family. Who came above all else. Who would demand payment in blood. And vengeance in it, too.
Hell, Gav had told me that himself once.
“So you decided to disappear?”
“Yes.”
“Was that before or after you bought a house you never told me about?”
The shock on his face was quickly followed by regret.
“I have my reasons for—”
Suddenly, I was tired. Bone-deep tired. I didn’t want to hear his ‘reasons’ that were, undoubtedly, just excuses wrapped up in fancier paper.
“What is your plan?” I cut him off.
“I need to disappear.”
“Clearly.”
“Caitlin,” he said, voice going sad.
“I know it’s uncomfortable to be called out on the wrong you’ve done, but this was wrong, Dad. While I’m glad you’re alive, I’m having a hard time knowing how much you’ve lied to me about. Not just the past few weeks. But the past several years.”
“I won’t be for long.”
“What?”
“Alive. I won’t be for long. If I can’t disappear. And I mean really drop off the face of the earth. For a few months. Maybe longer. But…”
“But you can’t go home or take money out of your accounts when you’re supposed to be missing.”
“Yes. I forget sometimes how smart you are.”
I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do here.
On the one hand, I loved my father. I wanted to get a chance to mend things with him, to move past this.
But there was no denying that I was also falling for Gavino at the same time.
And in my eyes, both men were wrong. My father for getting involved and deciding not to honor his deal. And Gav because he could easily replace a trucker. There was no reason to hurt my father for wanting to retire.
I needed time.
To sort this out.
To find a way out for everyone involved.
“I have a place.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a rental cabin,” I told him. “I have it rented for a few weeks. I can reserve it for longer. The schedule was wide open. It’s in the middle of nowhere. No one could ever find you there.”
Thus, the basis of its appeal when I’d first made my reservation after holding Gav captive.
“You could?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“Yes. And I can loan you my car to take you there. You’re going to need to pick up supplies along the way. There’s bedding and cookware and everything, but you have to get all the food you will need to hold you over for a few weeks. Or months.”
“And you can loan me the money for that?”
I was tempted to tell him that I had his storage unit key, that he could get his own money. But something held me back. There was a little voice in my head begging me to play my cards close to my vest.
Something was going on here.
Something I was having trouble thinking through with my father sitting across from me looking like a wounded animal. I needed to get him safe. Then I needed to sort through the strange, knotted-up feeling in my stomach that said I was missing something.
“Yes. We can stop at the bank on the way to the garage.”
“I’ll pay you back, kiddo. I promise. Feels wrong to be taking money from my own kid.”
“I know you will,” I said, thinking of the stacks of cash.
I reached in my purse to grab a receipt and pen to write with.
“What are you writing?”
“A list of things you’re going to need.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“Except you’re used to washing your clothes at a laundromat, where you have things like detergent right there to buy. And when’s the last time you thought about washing a dish? And the soap you need for that? About not having a store nearby to grab bandages or aspirin?”
He refrained from insisting that he now had a house of his own. Which saved me from pointing out that his girlfriend was clearly who’d stocked the place.
“That should cover it,” I said, passing the receipt to him. “Just let me get changed before we go.”
“What’s wrong with what you have on?”
I couldn’t exactly tell my father that it was an outfit from several days ago. That I hadn’t had a chance to change out of. Because I’d been having sex with the man who wanted to kill him.
“I’m not comfortable,” I said.
Which was certainly true enough.
There was nothing comfortable about this whole situation.
So I dipped into my bedroom, changing into a pair of jeans and a cropped sweatshirt featuring a Thanksgiving dinner spread and declaring, “I’m a sides chick.” I slipped on a pair of flats then grabbed an extra pillow and blanket from my closet, shoving them into a bag, and bringing it out with me.
“You ready?” I asked.
My dad took a deep breath and rose.
Then we went to the bank, grabbed him a burner phone, and, finally, made it to the garage.
“I really hope we can work all this out,” he said, standing awkwardly in the open door of my car with regret plain on his face.
“Me too,” I agreed, taking a step back so he could climb in and pull out.
I watched him back out of the spot then drive off.
I never saw it coming.
The blow landed hard to the back of my head.
My vision went blurry as I fell to the ground, pain ratcheting up my knees and my busted wrist as I braced my fall.
But then the blackness consumed me.