A fist drove itself into Andrew’s stomach and it was everything he could do to remain on his feet. “I’m not bringing that kind of shit into my place of business. It’ll start as counterfeit iPhones and eventually, it’ll turn into drugs, and then I’ll be stuck.”
Handler regarded him with a mixture of respect and irritation. “You don’t want the bar used as a midway point, then you’ll transport the packages yourself.” He leaned in closer and tobacco breath wafted over Andrew’s face. “And before you say no, you self-righteous prick, understand I can make your life a living hell. I can put your father’s disappearance on the department’s radar and name you as a person of interest so fast, your head will spin. I can have the Castle Gate shut down for health code violations and while I’m at it, I’ll do the same to your little girlfriend’s restaurant. Do not fuck with me, son.”
Rage nearly choked him. “You go anywhere near her, I will—”
“You’ll do what?” Handler licked his teeth. “You going to murder me, too?”
Hearing the m-word out loud was a kick to the gut. That’s what he was, though. A murderer. A criminal that hadn’t been caught. He had some nerve acting too high and mighty to facilitate illegal transactions when he’d done something so much worse, didn’t he?
It’s over. I’m caught.
For years, he’d kept his head down and hoped the past would stay buried, but he wasn’t that lucky. What choice did he have now but to move the goods? He meant what he said. This situation wouldn’t touch the Castle Gate. More importantly, it wouldn’t touch his brothers or Jiya. He had to protect them. He had to take this on alone, away from the life they’d created in the aftermath of his father. Rory and Jamie were happy. Jiya was going to be a wife someday soon. If he was the only one who didn’t get a happily ever after, so be it. But the people he loved would get theirs, goddammit.
“This is the last time you come to my house. Or my bar,” he said, cold, hard steel in his voice. “Do you understand? I do this thing, it doesn’t touch my family. Or her.”
“Knew you’d come around,” Handler said, inclining his head. “You’ll hear from me soon with more details.”
Andrew watched the dirty cop leave in a dreamlike state. Funny, on the occasions Andrew let himself think of being called to the mat for what he’d done, he’d expected to feel fear. Guilt. Desperation. Worry. Instead, he was deadened. Like he’d been shot full of Novocain.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blinds in the front window of the house move and he glanced over, just in time to watch Jiya disappear. Grief broke through his anesthetized state briefly, but he locked it away. Quick, before it could take hold. He’d do what needed to be done for his family, like he always had, and he wouldn’t dwell on what might have been if his life had followed a different path. Those ruminations were pointless and painful.
Head down.
Work.
Provide.
Don’t think. Don’t think about her.
He didn’t even make it five seconds.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“No, no, no. Not today.”
Jiya turned her key in the ignition and listened to her car engine sputter, before going eerily silent again. Of all days. Of all freaking days, the old rust bucket had to pick the afternoon of her first flying lesson?
“Please, don’t do this to me,” she wailed into the stifling interior, making one final attempt to start the car before falling back against the seat, utterly defeated.
What had she done to piss off the universe?
“Okay,” she whispered, climbing out of the car before she baked to death and starting to pace. “Think think think.” She took her cell phone out of her purse and called her mother. “Hi, it’s me. Is Dad using his car?”
“Yes. He’s in Levittown buying supplies. Why? What is wrong?”
Jiya mouthed a silent F-bomb. “My car won’t start.”
She didn’t have to explain to her mother that she was supposed to be on her way to the flying lesson. Everyone at the restaurant knew about Jiya’s plans because she never took days off and every Thursday for the next five weeks had been blocked out in the scheduling book since her present showed up in the mail. “What about Jamie?” asked her mother.
“He’s on his honeymoon.”
“Do not ask the tattooed one. I won’t survive you being in a motorcycle and airplane in the same day.”
“I doubt they’ll take me up in a plane on my first day, mother. And don’t worry, Rory is on lifeguard duty today.”
It didn’t escape Jiya’s notice that her mother didn’t suggest Andrew. What was up with that? Of the three Prince brothers, she and Andrew were the closest. Maybe her mother had heard Andrew shouting at her outside the house yesterday?