The Fall(21)

“Your father.” I decided to play nice, figuring my less than predicted response would keep things uneasy between us. I didn’t want her comfortable or being able to anticipate anything, especially not my mood.

“He well?” She tilted her head to the side in faux concern.

“Didn’t ask.” I laughed with genuine amusement. “It’s been at least four years since you’ve seen each other; I’m sure it’s going to be one hell of a reunion when the two of you get back together.” Part of me wishing I could watch the fall out.

Oh, I wasn’t interested in their family politics. Couldn’t give a f*ck if they had a happily ever after. But something told me watching Sofia hand her father his ass would be worth seeing.





To have your fate in the hands of someone else was unnerving. Having that person not care about your fate—an unhinging of the cruelest kind. That’s where I found myself, forced to trust someone I didn’t, and unable to know if I were better or worse with his help.

I hated it.

I hated him.

And I hated my father for putting me in a position where I no longer knew who the good guys were.

Blissful ignorance faded quickly as I grew older, and as much as I loved my family I couldn’t ignore what was going on around me. My body was wracked with guilt as I took communion at Sunday mass, Father Thomas giving my family an extra blessing for our generous donations.

He had to have known where the money came from. He frequently came to our house, my mother working herself into a tizz at the honor of a personal visit. The best china and silverware were laid out as he ate baked ziti with my family. He knew. They all knew. And it killed me that the lines were no longer clear.

The chain of the gold crucifix around my neck choked me under the weight of the sin. I was too young to be damned and yet the fires of Hell licked at my heels even as I knelt at the pew.

It was ironic that I found myself there again. Feeling like that fourteen-year-old with eyes as big as saucers, my too-thick hair unable to be tamed, on my knees praying for a way out.

“We need to lay low until I’m ready. Then we are out of here. Permanently.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts, thrusting me into the present.

That wasn’t something that surprised me, him blowing up my house and destroying everything I owned was pretty final. Going back wasn’t a possibility even if someone wasn’t trying to kill me.

I pulled my gun from my waistband, where it had been the entire time. The arrogant son of a bitch didn’t even flinch, watching as I leveled it against him. He thought I didn’t have it in me to pull the trigger; truth is I wasn’t sure I did either. But there was an ugly feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that stirred. Something new I’d never felt before and for once, I wasn’t sure I would do the right thing. Even as I lifted the barrel higher and my finger flicking off the safety, he didn’t move. That smug grin on his face, ever present.

“I have done everything you asked.” The air came out of my mouth in a rush as I held my arm steady. I could do this, if it came to saving my life, I could do this. “I haven’t resisted. I haven’t tried to escape. I told you about the files.”

“And what? You looking for an applause?” He smiled like this was some kind of a joke, but I saw his hand lower, hover at the side where he had his forty-five holstered.

“No, I don’t need your approval.” And most of all, I didn’t want it. I’d rather turn the gun on myself than be the kind of person he would be proud of. “But I won’t allow you to make decisions about what happens to me without my input.” Every word past my lips made me braver, stronger, more determined not to back down. Something inside me had clicked and there was a different part of me taking control.

“Or what? You going to shoot me?” His head angled toward the gun I had yet to lower. I was so close to him. Just a few feet. Even a blind man could pull the trigger and hit his heart—assuming he still had one. So he had to have known that with my experience, I wouldn’t miss.

“Or maybe,” he drawled, his voice lingering over every word sadistically, like he was enjoying the threat. “You’re hoping I’ll shoot you and end all of this for both of us.”

No. That was his fantasy, not mine. But I would rather die than spend another night unsure of what would happen to me in the morning.

“I won’t be a passenger in this.” I did my best to keep it unemotional, not entirely succeeding. I hated how helpless I’d been, but I wasn’t going to allow it to continue. Not after he’d taken almost everything. My home, my freedom—I wouldn’t let him take my life as well. Not without a fight.

“I don’t play well with others. Guess you can call it a character flaw.” He arched his neck first to the left and then to the right, the conversation clearly annoying him. “I’m done talking about it.”

Well, I wasn’t.

He infuriated me. His casual disregard for anything I had said was causing me to slowly become unhinged. And I wasn’t sure if it was anger or my need for survival that made me unpredictable.

“I want the drive back.” I held out my left hand expectantly while my right hand stayed aimed at his chest. “You don’t need it. Or know how to access the information.”

His jaw tightened, annoyance moving to agitation. “You aren’t getting shit.” His voice was barely a whisper, and somehow that made it worse. “You know, you shouldn’t aim a gun at someone when you have no intention of pulling the trigger. This is the second time you’ve done it, and I can assure you, I won’t allow you a third. So here’s what’s going to happen.” His arm stretched out, his fingers wrapping around the barrel. “You are going to lower the f*cking gun or you are going to shoot.” His hand didn’t even wobble as it held my Smith and Wesson.