I feel Quaid panic by my side as he starts, “Sir, I didn’t kno—”
But he’s cut off as the chief adds in deathly calm, “You brought me his son.”
What the fuck did he just say?
The chief takes a step toward me, unblinking, and says the words I know are coming but dread to hear. “Antonio Falco. Junior.”
Shit.
Motherfucker knows my pops.
It’s funny how some moments can change your life, shape it, mold it into something unfamiliar, going somewhere foreign, and all you can do is accept the fact or lose the fight.
Well, I don’t accept the fact. Nor do I anticipate losing the fight.
My thinking right now?
Bring it the fuck on.
I am tired of being the weakling, told where to go, what to do, how to dress. For once, I am taking control of my life, and if that means smiling through my suicide, then so be it.
Julius had it wrong.
I am never going home. Not willingly.
If he truly believes he’s going to take me back there, the only way I’ll let him is by escorting my cold, lifeless body to my father’s front doorstep.
As I half lay on the leather chocolate-brown chesterfield with Julius sitting close on the coffee table, facing me, watching me with those cold blue eyes, his elbows resting on his knees, covering his mouth with the tips of his fingers, I’m quietly reminded that this man is far more dangerous than he looks.
His calm demeanor has my mind working a mile a minute, and alarm has me whispering a quavering, “Who the hell are you, Julius Carter?”
Light blue eyes narrow on me, but I don’t receive an answer.
From the open doorway, a confident voice purrs, “He’s the guy you call when the very best manage to fuck up.” Ling steps forward, smiling widely, and for a single moment, I wonder how a woman with balled-up tissues stuffed up her nose can still look beautiful. She sits on the matching chesterfield opposite mine, a fraction to the left so as to still intimidate me with her vicious, happily cruel stare. Crossing a dainty leg over her knee, she smooths her black dress with delicate, red-painted fingers. “JC is judge, jury, and executioner.” At the paling of my face, her pearly whites flash. She loves what she’s doing to me. “Julius doesn’t make the laws of our world, Alejandra. He is the law.”
My insides churn painfully.
Well. That surely makes me feel better.
Thank you, Ling.
In an unconscious action, my hand grips at the thin material at my stomach, and I fight a grimace. Nerves have always been a killer for me.
Julius’s gaze travels down my body and lands in the exact region where my hand is resting. Slowly sitting up straight, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an orange tube of pills. In a swift motion, he throws it to me, and I catch it easily. My brow furrows in confusion as I look down at the white label and read aloud, “Doxylamine.” I open my mouth to ask what they are, but I can’t find the words. I’m so tired.
Julius speaks for the first time since our rancorous fight out in the front yard. “It’ll help you keep food down.”
“Food?” What?
The man holds himself tall, the picture of patience. “My friend’s girl had the same issue. Take the pills. You gotta eat.” He adds, “For the baby.”
The baby?
Oh, God.
My stomach works itself into a knot, and it hurts so badly that I don’t bother fighting the contorting of my face that time.
“The baby,” I mumble, gripping the material at my front with one hand while clutching the orange tube of pills with the other. I stare at the wall over Ling’s head.
My short list of options weighs on me.
Julius eyes me solicitously, but Ling… she sees me. She sees what Julius doesn’t.
That I’m a fraud. Dishonest.
If I have any chance of repairing the damage I’ve already done and making Julius see me as a person, not a lying sack of shit, I have to start being honest. I need him to trust me enough to let his guard down. I need him to let his guard down so I can get hold of his gun and end this on my terms.
Before fear immobilizes me, I throw the orange tube back to Julius. He shakes his head and begins, “No shame in needin—”
My voice finds me, but it’s weak. “There is no baby.” Even quieter, “I lied.”
He blinks at me, disbelief heavily set in his watchful gaze.
The moment his body turns rigid and stills, my heart pounds. When Julius stands, reaching down to grip the edge of the coffee table, my chest aches, and my body turns cold as ice. I scramble back, knees up, reaching up quickly to cover my ears with my balled up fists.
I know what’s coming. I’ve seen this expression before in the face of my husband.
It’s the calm before the storm.
The coffee table flips, crashing into the wall with an echoing boom, the force of which leaving a gaping hole at the point of collision.
Julius booms, “Goddamn it, Alejandra!” The veins in his neck strain with every coarse word. He begins to pace in the space where the coffee table used to reside. He opens his mouth and lets out a stream of curses. “Motherfucker. Fuckin’ hell! I don’t believe this shit.” He resumes pacing, shouting some more, but something pulls me from reality. “Was everything a lie?”
He turns to face me, hands on hips, his sky blue eyes flaming. “Answer me.” My mind tugs at my subconscious, cocking a finger, whispering, “Come with me,” and the lines between reality and hallucination blur. I can’t hear his voice anymore, but I see his lips moving. “Answer me.”
A hidden memory resurfaces from the dark, shadowed place I’d long past buried it.
A trip to New York for your twenty-second birthday would sound like a dream. Sure, it sounds like a fun way to celebrate. In theory.
When Dino approached me the week prior, telling me he had business in New York and would likely miss my birthday, I must’ve forgotten my game face, having been all too happy with the arrangement.
With Dino away, I’d be able to spend time with my family, my brother and sisters, and I didn’t get a lot of time with them anymore. Dino didn’t like me spending too much time at my father’s house.
I was his wife. My place was with my husband, as were my loyalties.
My husband’s paranoia had reached a point where not even his closest friends and family were allowed to be left alone with me. Of course, he never came out and said the words, but his trust in others had diminished greatly.
The next night, Dino returned from a family meeting at his family’s restaurant and, spotting me in the kitchen, came up from behind to curl himself around me.
Being lost in my own world, I jumped when his arms banded around me.
Dino laughed softly at my cheek, nipping my ear playfully. “Scaredy cat.”
He was in a good mood. My relief, palpable, I let out a thankful laugh. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Smiling, he turned me to face him and bent low t
o take my lips in a firm kiss. “Guess what?”
He was so handsome when he smiled from his heart. My hands came up in a familiar motion to rest on his chest. “What?”
“You know I’m going to be in New York for your birthday—” he started.
I cut him off, smoothing the front of his jacket with soft hands, “Honey, it’s okay. I get it. It’s just business.”
“That’s just it.” His smile intensified. “You’re coming with me.” His smile turned into a grin. “We’ll go out for dinner, maybe see a show, go clubbing. We’re gonna party in New York for your birthday, baby.”
Well, shit.
My hands stilled on the front of his jacket, and my face fell.
I wasn’t getting much-needed time with my family after all. My heart sank, and I felt the cold sting of tears behind my eyes. I blinked them back.
Dino’s expression grew icy, and I knew the exact moment his anger started to stir at my reaction. So I did the only thing I could do, and I did it well. After all, I had years of practice.
I faked it.
Sniffling loudly, I forced the tears forward, blinking rapidly, and clutched at his shoulders. “You would do that?” I let a single tear fall and whispered a weepy, “You’d do that for me?”
Before he could gauge my reaction, I threw my arms around him and squeezed tightly, hoping to God I was pulling this off. My voice earnest, I sighed into his chest. “I didn’t want to say anything, but the thought of you being away for my birthday…” I pulled back and smiled shakily up at him. “Thank you, Dino. It’s going to be great.”
When his stiff arms loosened, cradling me, I knew I had him. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed crossly. “I would do anything for you, baby.” He pulled me close and vowed, “I love you.”
So New York came, and from Dino’s constant good mood, on a Saturday night at a club called The White Rabbit, I made a fatal error.
I smiled at the bartender when he handed me my drink, tipping my head back and laughing when he winked at me and told Dino he was a lucky man.
Dino responded kindly, left an unnecessarily large tip, took my hand and guided me to the edge of the dance floor. I sipped my cocktail, smiling to myself at how much I’d dreaded this trip. I was actually having fun.