Chapter 18 Nova #2
He lowered his brow, his nostrils flared, every breath making his shoulders rise and fall.
“I’m not the one who got us into this,” he whispered, his words chilling, his expression murderous like a bull ready to charge.
“All I’ve done is my best to keep us together in one piece.
You want to talk to the person responsible for all of this, you talk to your father.
He let them manipulate him in the first place.
Those fucking mobsters. He opened the door, he let them in, and I told him not to.
I did, I warned him. But the casino wasn’t doing so well.
They had money. Connections. He wanted them.
You were a baby,” he added with a sneer.
“Judge all you fucking want, but you weren’t there.
It’s been enough for you to float around, little rich girl, in your little-rich-girl bubble.
You never had to think about where the money came from.
All you ever had to do was spend it. And you have the right to judge me?
” he concluded with a scornful look, scoffing, his mouth twisted in disgust.
My mother. My mother died in this house. All these years, and I didn’t know. All these years, missing her, wondering, wishing I hadn’t done whatever it was I did to make her go away. Praying at night, in my bed, praying she would come back. But she was dead all along.
“Did you bury her out here?” I whispered, dreading the answer but unable to resist the question, forcing back the tears clogging my throat. I wouldn’t let him break me. “Has she been here all along?”
“Does it matter?” he countered, lifting a shoulder before he began rounding the chair. “You keep thinking about things that don’t matter. I’m the one asking the questions now, anyway.”
I cringed in revulsion when he stepped up behind me, a hand on my shoulder. His touch was icy, like death itself. Death that would soon be mine. “Now, you’re going to tell me everyone who knows about what you saw, smart girl. Who did you tell? Your husband?”
My heart clenched, and a chill ran through me as Vaughn’s handsome face and charming smile came to mind. My body suddenly felt much heavier, and the sweat beading on my forehead began trickling down my face. I couldn’t let him get hurt. He was too important. “What? I don’t—”
“Fuck off with the lies. He knows. You told him.” Slowly, his grip tightened, that strong hand of his grinding my bones together until I was sure he would dislocate the joint. I bit my lip, shaking when the pain was too much. “He won’t be widowed for long. He’ll join you soon.”
No. Not Vaughn. This was why I didn’t want him to know. I should have run away from the beginning—not to another casino but to another state. Back to England. Just as far as the money in my trust could take me.
This was all my fault, and now Vaughn might die, and I loved Vaughn. All it took was being minutes from death to figure it out. Now, it was too late. He would never know. A broken sob forced its way through my clenched teeth.
“Who else did you tell?” Just when I thought he couldn’t squeeze harder, he did, so much harder, finally tearing a pained cry from deep in my chest. “Who?”
“No one!” I sobbed. “I didn’t tell anybody else! I just… I just needed somebody…”
The sudden sweep of bright light outside the half-boarded windows silenced us.
My body sagged with relief when Nico released me, withdrawing the pistol tucked into the waistband at his back as he approached the windows overlooking the driveway alongside the house.
Every line of his body revealed the tension that had him in its grips until he relaxed slightly, barking out an almost silent laugh.
“Perfect. I hoped he would get here in time.”
Fresh terror swelled in me. “No, no,” I whispered. “What did you do? Did you tell him to come? Don’t hurt him, please!”
He looked at me over his shoulder, the faint light of dusk casting him in a silhouette. “You think your husband came to save you?” he asked, chuckling. “I must’ve hit you harder than I thought. But then you were out for a long time.”
Heavy footsteps rang out beyond the windows, crunching desiccated weeds before the door swung open. No, not Vaughn. The man standing in the doorway, staring at me, was shorter. His shoulders more narrow, his head gleaming in the last light from the setting sun.
“Dad?” I breathed, relief almost choking me. “Dad, he’s got a gun, he’s—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Nico barked. “Just keep your mouth shut.”
Slowly, my father approached, his feet falling heavy on the floor. “Did you have to bring her here?” he asked Nico, sounding tired.
No. That wasn’t right. He should have run to me, thrown himself at my feet, and worked to slit the tape holding me in place.
He should have screamed at Nico, threatened him, something, anything other than standing in the center of the great room, staring at me, revealing no feelings. No surprise, no fear for me.
“Dad?” I whispered as fresh tears spilled onto my cheeks.
He slowly shook his head, the candlelight revealing what might have been a mournful look in his eyes but was probably more like disapproval. Regret. “I told you. You didn’t know what you were talking about, and it wasn’t for you to get involved in. Why did you have to do it?”
His words gradually sank in, digging through the chaotic, tangled mess my mind had become. “Daddy,” I whispered. “Daddy, help me.”
“I tried,” he muttered. “But some people just can’t be helped.”