Chapter 12
Lily
My head felt like it was in a cloud. But not a pleasant cloud. It was a crowded cloud of frustration and worry.
The fact that Dean returned to working for Antonio hadn’t come as a surprise. It was the fact my father, someone I thought knew better, was sending Dean into criminal meetings with a wire and blackmailing him into revealing everything he knew about Antonio. That was what infuriated me.
With my hair damp from the rain outside, I marched down the corridor to the organized crime department. Wet hair and clothes were the least of my concerns as I beelined straight for the seats outside my father’s office.
Most of the detectives here knew me and waved or smiled.
All I could offer in return was a curt smile of my own before I went back to watching Dad’s office door.
I crossed one leg over the other as I tapped my foot in the air.
And then began picking at the lint balls on the arms of my cream sweater.
A single seed of doubt was ready to take root — to tell me that confronting my father was pointless.
But at the same time, something in me refused to shake the need to say something.
I needed to say something. I just had to figure out how I was going to word it.
I even had the photograph he gave me all those months ago.
The one of Dean from the basement corkboard.
The one my father said would keep Dean safe if it was with me.
The click of his office door pulled my attention, and I moved immediately, hand digging through my purse for the photo as I went.
Dad smiled proudly as he stood in his doorway. “Lily—”
“So, what you said was a lie,” I interrupted, holding up the photo for him to see. “That he would be safe from the investigation if this wasn’t in evidence.”
He guided my hand back down and quickly steered me into his office. “Lily, take a seat.”
“No.”
“Okay,” he sighed, closing the door behind him. He crossed his arms. “You actually just missed him.”
The sentence didn’t shock me. Of course, I already knew Dean had been here earlier. He dropped off that stupid little recording device.
“You lied to me about protecting him.” My voice was surprisingly steady as I stood in the center of his office.
“Things changed. We couldn’t risk wasting a good source.”
“You blackmailed him, Dad. He is facing possible jail time with potential blackmail charges, and you blackmailed him.”
“He’s a criminal, Lily.”
“You don’t think I’m aware of that?” I could see this conversation was beginning to be a waste of time. I was getting angrier, and my father only looked more assured of himself.
His pause was calculated as he watched me closely before he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“Say he wasn’t involved in this investigation, but you knew of his past. His crimes.
Did you plan on keeping that a secret instead of doing the legal thing, the right thing, and reporting it? I’m disappointed in you, Lily.”
“That makes two of us.”
He inhaled sharply through his nose and took a step closer.
“May I remind you, you too can be arrested for what you did?” His voice lowered.
“For your involvement with The Den and being aware of what was going on beneath it for so long. The fact you even worked in that basement— You are lucky to have me on your side.”
My jaw was tight as I remained silent.
“Now,” he straightened, easing the tension in his shoulders. “I’ve already spent the morning dealing with your boyfriend’s attitude towards me, and I need to get back to work. So, unless you need to discuss anything else, can we leave this on a happier note?”
Because it would be so easy to sweep our problems under the rug. Never to be spoken about out in the open…
He took my arm to steer me from his office, hoping I would mirror the smile on his face. I tugged my arm back instead.
“If Dean is caught by Antonio, wearing a wire— If any of Antonio’s kids found him wearing a wire—”
“It’s no less dangerous than what he’s already done.
This isn’t his first time doing dangerous work, Lily.
It’s just your first time seeing it happen.
” He paused, running a hand over his graying dark hair.
“He isn’t someone who’ll ever lead a respectful life.
He made that clear with every wrong turn on his record.
But you made your choice to live with that, which means dealing with the consequences too.
If you’re worried about him going to prison, or worse, maybe you should reconsider your relationship. ”
I scoffed. “I can’t believe you.”
“He agreed to this.”
“Because you threatened to have his mother deported!”
He waved his hand to indicate I needed to keep my voice down, hinting that not everyone in the office knew about the citizenship issue. The sharp blue in my father’s eyes and the subtle frustration would’ve once made me back off from a disagreement.
I had never told my father to fuck off before, but I was extremely close to doing it as I stood in his office, heart pounding and fighting the lump in my throat.
“Talking about this is clearly making you upset.” He attempted to guide me to his office door, bringing a hand to the small of my back.
“I’m not upset.” I stepped out of his reach and lowered my voice as he pulled the door open. “I think you could’ve done things differently. Or at least helped his mother instead of using her for leverage.”
“He was willing to go to prison instead of helping me with the investigation. I needed something to get him to comply.” With the door wide open, he knew it would prevent me from raising my voice again. “Does that not say anything about him? He’d rather go to prison than stay with you.”
“He knows I won’t be threatened with deportation,” I hissed.
I was also all too aware that Dean had a self-sacrificing trait. If Dean got his way, he would’ve gone to prison instead of revealing Antonio’s secrets to keep his loved ones safe.
Dad folded his arms, bringing his eyes from me to the office, and smiled casually to his colleagues, pretending our conversation was civilized. “What’s done is done, Lily.”
“Wow…”
“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
“Not with you.” I adjusted the strap of my bag, ready to walk away.
“Before I forget,” he added, scanning the room with a show of pride before looking at me. “Tell Dean I need him here on Tuesday morning.”
“Why not mention that to him earlier, when he was here? Since you think I should have nothing to do with this,” I retorted.
“It was something that came to mind after he left.”
“What is it?”
It was worth a shot.
“Confidential to anyone not on the case, sweetie,” he smiled, but for a split second, his eyes dropped to my side, where the scars were beneath my clothes. “Just tell him I need to see him Tuesday.”
Instinctively, I pulled my arms around my middle. “Fine…”
We parted ways with a begrudged goodbye, and I headed back through the office with less urgency than before. My talk to him hadn’t gone anything like how I wanted it to. I wasn’t entirely sure how I expected it to go.
While I was feeling defeated by the whole situation, my heart continued to beat faster.
I gripped the strap of my bag and picked up my pace.
Two detectives walked into my path, but I slipped straight in between them with a quick apology. I immediately noted their guns too. Visible beneath their jackets.
A phantom ache pulled at my side and continued tugging as I stepped into the corridor. There seemed to be more detectives and police than I first noticed. And suddenly I was counting each gun I caught a glimpse of.
The corridor to the elevator seemed to stretch on and grow narrower, filled with people coming and going.
Fear quickly rooted itself into my chest and spread, tightening around my lungs and heart until I was suffocating unnoticed.
I needed somewhere quiet and empty, and it came in the form of a cleaning room. I quickly shoved my way inside it, shutting the door behind me and leaning into it with my palms as I looked at the ground.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale—Why am I panicking?
An image of Aiden and his gun flashed across my mind, but I shook my head and then backed away from the door, pulling my arms tightly around myself.
“He isn’t here,” I said, shaking my head once more, eyes closed. “He’s in rehab, learning how to use his leg again. With an ankle monitor.”
That doesn’t mean no one else wouldn’t use a gun on you.
Panic rose inside me like bile, making it harder to think clearly. Every thought was suddenly too loud, and the single light overhead was too bright. I pressed a hand to my chest and hunched forward, feeling completely helpless. Until I was hastily rolling up one sleeve of my knit sweater.
As a teenager, when everything my parents piled on me got to a boiling point, I used pain.
Perfect grades, pressure to fit in and be good, be polite, learn the violin although I hated every second spent with that tutor…
I shamefully used pain to cope, and after a while, the panic caused by the pressure grew numb.
Moving out of home made coping with my anxiety easier, but the panic I felt now was inescapable, and was bigger than any I’ve felt before.
I pinched the underside of my forearm between my nails, forcing down the urge to let go when it hurt too much. It was an anchor I needed and pulled my thoughts into clarity as I shut my eyes and breathed.
As the bad memories receded into their boxes, I slowly released my skin and looked hesitantly at my forearm.
And the blood on my fingernails.
The third-floor hallway was empty as I approached the apartment door.
All I could think of, as I pushed the key into the lock and turned the handle, was the welcoming embrace of sleep.
I planned to fall into bed and nap until dinner.
Except, as I closed the door softly behind me and made my way into the apartment, I paused in the hallway.