34. Marie
34
MARIE
Trick yanks me into a sudden kiss, his mouth capturing mine with the raw excitement of victory and adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He barely seems to notice his freshly bandaged leg—courtesy of Hugo’s impromptu kitchen-table surgery. The tang of blood and antiseptic hangs in the air. Not the most romantic scent in the world, but I hardly care.
He’s going to live.
For a split second, I let myself melt into Trick’s arms. My heart lifts, and I taste the salt on his lips. Relief floods me—we survived. All of us. But then a harsh cough breaks through the moment.
Dad stands a few steps away, arms folded tight across his chest. His glare could cut right through me. “You’ve got some nerve kissing my daughter under my roof.”
Trick slowly releases me, blinking with a mild, dopey grin. “Sorry, Preacher,” he says, though he doesn’t look particularly sorry. “Just got caught up in the…moment.”
“That’s not the only thing you’re caught up in.”
A nervous jolt flickers through my stomach. All four of us—Sam, Hugo, Trick, and I—knew we’d have to face this reckoning sooner or later. It seems “later” just got here.
I clear my throat, stepping forward. “Dad, I can explain.”
He levels me with a stare. “Then do it.”
The silence stretches tight. I glance at Trick, who shrugs apologetically, as though he’s only just realized how this must look to Dad. Sam stands off to the side, arms crossed. I know him well enough to see the tension tightening his jaw, even if his face doesn’t show much. Hugo lingers near the makeshift surgical setup, calm as ever as he cleans and packs his medical kit, though his dark eyes glance between me and Dad.
They’re letting me do the talking, which is both good and bad. “Uh, well?—”
My father exhales sharply, turning his glare from Trick to me. “So…this is the thing I’ve been hearing about in town? What you told me before? It’s true—you’re all…what, together ?” His voice cracks on the last word, as if he can’t stomach the thought.
“Yes,” I say quietly, pulse pounding. “We’re together. I care about them. They care about me. We?—”
He cuts me off with a raised hand. “Don’t you dare say it’s love, Marie Eleanor. I know these men. They share everything. You’re my daughter, and I won’t stand by while they add you to their list of conquests. And I promise you, that’s all you’ll ever be to them. So don’t you dare say a thing about love.”
Hugo turns to my father with measured calm. “Preacher, we respect your concern. Truly. But none of us think of Marie as anything less than our partner. We’d never do anything to hurt her. This is not like those other times. This is something real.”
Dad’s jaw tightens. “I’m supposed to believe that? You boys always follow Sam’s lead. I doubt even he ”—he points at Sam, eyes flashing with anger—“has thought through what this will do to Marie’s reputation. Much less her future. You’re all ex-military tattoo artists. What kind of future can you give her?”
Sam doesn’t so much as flinch at Dad’s accusations. “We don’t share the details of our past lightly, but we told Marie. We’re not in that life anymore, and we’re not dragging her into anything dangerous.” He hesitates, like he’s weighing every syllable, then adds firmly, “We’re established businessmen of Auclair. We’re not running off in the night to parts unknown to perform military coups or to rescue princes or to guard communications towers or eliminate eighth-world hostiles. She’s our priority.”
“Eighth-world?” I ask. Everything he just said stuck out to me, but I’ve never heard that term before.
He turns to me and casually says, “Aliens.” Then he turns to Dad. “Our lives are different now?—”
“I’m sorry, I think I might be losing my mind,” I cut in. “Did you just say aliens ?”
“Don’t think you were supposed to mention that one,” Trick teases.
Sam blinks. Not the way a normal person does. In the way that someone who knows they just fucked up blinks. “You know—illegal aliens. Hostile ones, in this case.”
Trick snorts. “Smooth. I’m sure she’ll buy that.”
“The point is,” Sam growls, returning to the topic at hand, “Marie is our mission now. Now and forever, if she’ll have us.”
Aliens are real…huh. Well, that makes a lot of sense.
Wait, what did he just say about forever?
I hardly know where to start.
Dad presses both palms onto the scarred wooden table, bending over it as if bracing for an impact. “Marie, did they pressure you into this?”
“Pressure me?” The anger swelling in my chest explodes before I can stop it. “I made my own decisions! I’m not some clueless teenager.”
“I know that?—”
“I’m a grown woman, and I get to choose who I’m with—whether that’s one person or three people, or more if I want. I don’t cave to pressure. I’m pretty sure you remember that from when Mom left you, and I went to live with her. I chose to go with her because Boston had more opportunities for me than Auclair. It was a hard choice, but I made it myself, even though you said I hurt you by making that choice.” My voice shakes with the intensity of finally saying it out loud to his face.
He stares at me like I’m someone he doesn’t recognize. “You’re my daughter. I love you. But I can’t watch you throw your life away on three men who?—”
“Who love me?” I bite out, finishing his sentence my way. My throat feels tight. “Why is that so hard to believe? Do you think I’m unlovable? Is that how you see me?”
“Of course not?—”
“Then why can’t you see that we make each other happy?”
Dad’s gaze flickers over to Trick, whose leg is still bleeding lightly through the bandage. “You think this is real? They’re high on adrenaline. You’re high on some romantic fantasy. Once that wears off, you’ll be left in the dust, and they’ll move on to the next skirt.”
Trick’s brow furrows as if Dad’s words finally hit him. “Hey, man, that’s not?—”
Dad’s voice rumbles from deep inside. Pure anger. “I will not let my daughter be subjected to this .”
“Oh, that is it!” The words come out of me somewhere between an angry laugh and a snapping shout. “I am finally sticking up for myself, and you can’t handle it. You have to think I’m the victim in this situation, because you’re so used to me being meek and quiet and a good girl.” I laugh at the thought. “Well, guess what, Dad. I’m not any of those things.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“I chose this. They didn’t do this to me . I like being with them. They don’t treat me like I’m a fragile thing that’ll break if the wind blows the wrong way. They treat me like an equal. So, I choose to be with them. I choose to be with three men who make me feel like I can do anything. I’m not their victim, Dad. I’m their partner.”
A brittle silence stretches between us. Finally, Dad pushes off the table and squares his shoulders. “So that’s it? You don’t care about what I think at all?”
My heart clenches. “Of course I care about what you think, Dad. But I’m the one who has to live my life. I can’t just…pretend I don’t feel what I feel. I won’t be miserable to make you happy.”
Sam steps in. “Perhaps after all that’s happened, sleeping on it would be the best remedy?—”
“Not happening, Sam,” Dad snaps.
“You’re angry. You’re going to say things you can’t take back,” Sam cautions. “So why don’t you get cleaned up and go to bed, and we can talk in the morning.”
“Don’t tell me not to be angry,” Dad grinds out. “You’re supposed to be the levelheaded one, the leader. But apparently, that doesn’t extend to controlling your impulses.”
My stomach tightens. I see Sam stiffen at that remark. He doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t raise his voice. But the tension in his jaw suggests Dad’s barb has struck a nerve.
Hugo pushes off the counter, stepping away from the bloodstained table. He folds his hands in front of him, gaze earnest. “Preacher, we respect that this is hard for you. But could we not talk about Marie like she’s some…commodity we stole from you?”
Dad’s attention snaps to Hugo. “Do not lecture me. You don’t have the moral high ground here. Not when you’re messing around with my daughter.”
I open my mouth to defend Hugo, but Trick beats me to it. He half limps, half lurches a step forward, wincing as he puts weight on his injured leg. “Hold on. Hugo’s not messing around with anyone. None of us are. Marie is…she’s important to us. We’d never do anything to hurt her.”
That boyish sincerity of Trick’s hits me in the chest. It’s one of the reasons I fell for him—he has a genuine heart that wants nothing more than to make me happy. He’s not good at reading the finer points of a tense situation, but he cares so deeply that it sometimes leaves me breathless.
Dad’s gaze flicks over Trick’s battered leg. His expression darkens, like the sight is a painful reminder that Trick and his friends are dangerous company. “That’s rich, Trick. Protecting her by bringing her into your chaos? By putting her in the crosshairs of your old enemies? She wouldn’t have been in half this mess if it weren’t for?—”
“No.” My voice splits the air, louder than I intended. My heart drums. I can feel it in my temples. “Don’t you dare blame them for what happened tonight, Dad. Those traffickers have been sniffing around Auclair for weeks—Sam, Trick, and Hugo did everything they could to keep me safe. They saved you, for God’s sake. Where’s your gratitude?”
A muscle in Dad’s jaw twitches. He looks at me for a moment before he speaks. “Yes, they saved me, and I’m thankful for that. But that doesn’t erase the fact that they’re endangering your life by living in the shadows and pulling you into them. Don’t you understand what you’re doing to your reputation, your future? You’re going to be known as the girl who sleeps with three men.”
Something in me breaks. “Who cares? I’m a grown woman, and I shouldn’t have to remind you of that every five minutes. I can be in a relationship with whoever I want. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds, Dad. Grow up!”
He slams a fist on the tabletop, and we all jump. The table rattles, leftover surgical tools clinking ominously against the wood. “In this town? Reputation matters, Marie. You think I didn’t face enough backlash when your mother left me for another woman? You think the church crowd didn’t talk behind my back every single Sunday? That my numbers didn’t dwindle for a year after she left me? It took me forever to get some of them back. They will jump on this like ticks on a hunting dog. The girl with three men at once? They’ll tear you apart.”
I swallow hard. Part of me understands why he’s so terrified of more gossip. But that doesn’t justify his trying to run my life. “I know you’ve been through a lot, tonight included. But this is my decision. Not yours. Let them talk. Let them whisper. I don’t care.”
“Marie,” he whispers, voice grating with raw emotion. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Trick exhales and rubs a hand down his face, clearly torn between wanting to lighten the mood and wanting to defend my honor. His leg is trembling. Even from here, I can see the strain. Sam stands a little straighter, as though he might step between me and Dad if this escalates again.
But it’s Hugo who speaks up next, moving quietly to my side. “Preacher, Marie’s happiness is paramount to us. No matter what else is going on in our lives, we would never jeopardize her safety. We’ve told her enough that she can make her own choice. We’re not running missions anymore. And if we did, we certainly wouldn’t ask Marie to be in harm’s way.”
Dad’s gaze drifts over Hugo’s expensive watch, his tailored shirt spattered with Trick’s blood. “I’m not worried about the four of you going off to war again. It’s the principle of it all. I gave up that lifestyle when I found my calling in the church. You three were content to keep living on the edge, and I never judged you for that. But I never expected you to rope my daughter into it.”
“I love you, Dad,” I say, struggling not to let my voice crack. “I always will. And I know you love me in your way. But you have to accept that I’m not a child anymore. They didn’t rope me into anything. You have to stop telling yourself they did, because you’re lying to yourself, and that lie will tear us apart.” The tears spill over, and I quickly swipe at them. “You have to accept that your daughter is choosing this life of her own accord.”
Dad shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to Sam, Trick, and Hugo as if he’s blaming them for making me cry. But then his expression softens, just a fraction, and I see the father who used to tuck me into bed when I was little—before he got so absorbed in the church, before the world wore him down.
Trick clears his throat, drawing Dad’s attention. “Preacher, I’m sorry if the kiss was in poor taste, but I…I couldn’t help it. We almost lost everything tonight—Marie, you, ourselves. I just…I was happy.”
He doesn’t listen. His eyes are on me. “You chose this?”
I’m relieved. He’s finally getting it. “Yes. I chose them.”
“Then you disgust me. This isn’t how I raised you to be. I raised you?—”
“You didn’t raise me at all!” I scream. Maybe it’s being told that I disgust him, but I’m fucking done. “Mom raised me! You were barely around even before the divorce, and after, you didn’t even call me on my birthdays! I got an unsigned card with a gift card in it!”
He swallows, grinding his teeth in anger. “I had missions to run?—”
“See? You’ve hidden shit from me my whole life! And you think you raised me? Are you kidding right now?”
Dad’s expression darkens. “Then it’s a choice,” he says, voice seething. “Them or me. You don’t get both.”