Chapter Ten
“Ma’am, we’re here,” said the cabbie, making Yasmin jerk her gaze from her phone and to the cab windows.
Seeing those rusted iron gates leading to St. Catherine’s cemetery turned her insides to nervous knots. With numbed fingers, she pulled out a few bills from her wallet and got off. She stood there at the entrance for a few moments, even after the cab drove away. A few visitors passed her, but she couldn’t seem to take that first step forward.
The last time she’d been here had been years ago. Yasmin could never summon the courage to face her mom, because she could barely keep her promise about looking after her father. Fleeing to another city to try to start a new life had only worsened that fear. She clutched her purse tightly in one hand, and the dozen daises in another.
The first thing she’d done was to make a quick stop to the nearest florist for the daises, her mom’s favorite flowers. Last night’s events felt surreal in her mind’s eye. It felt like the shooting happened to someone else, but she knew, even now, that despite not seeing them, Carver had sent one of his security guys to watch her.
Just a week ago, she would have been pissed off with a bodyguard constantly hovering near her. Last night had changed plenty of things. She remembered touching the bullet hole in his jacket in shock, because being shot at by some thug didn’t happen to normal people. Yasmin also couldn’t forget how tense his entire body had become when he told her she needed to do this errand alone, how tightly he’d held her close. The most powerful man in the city, the kingpin who feared nothing, had been scared for her sake, terrified of losing her.
Running into the car with Jake tugging her to safety and leaving Carver behind to deal with the shooter—she knew exactly how the kingpin felt. Losing him felt like losing a part of herself. After trying to build something, a kind of relationship with him, she didn’t think she’d recover if the worst happened, if the worst happened and he died. Just thinking about it tore her heart to shreds.
There was a danger, in caring so deeply for another person, and Carver said so himself. Danger was unavoidable in his world. She’d already slowly come to accept the darker side of him, but that felt a lot easier than knowing he might be taken from her by some bastard toting a gun.
Yasmin took a deep breath. She needed to visit her mom sooner or later. Maybe it would help her come to a decision. She walked in through those iron gates. One step, then another. It became a lot easier. She’d worn her best black dress today, accompanied by sensible black flats. Yasmin didn’t know why she dressed up, but it felt important.
Soon enough, she reached the spot where her mom was buried. Yasmin expected an untended grave, but the grass looked freshly cut, the tombstone free of dirt and grime. She knelt, frowning at the daises at the foot of the gravestone. They looked maybe a few days old. She sucked in a breath, knowing who they were from, because she knew both her parents had cut ties to their families when they got married.
Larry.
The same man who’d showed no remorse in selling her out, who reverted to old habits as soon as he wormed his way out of one mess. She set her flowers next to his, culling the urge to shred the other dozen. That would make her seem petty as hell, but she didn’t think she’d ever forgive Larry, not in this lifetime.
“You know what, Mom? Dad’s become a real dick, and it feels like I’ve wasted my entire life, cleaning up his messes.” God, those shouldn’t be her first words, but saying them out loud felt good. “I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise, but only now I realize, you might forgive me for that. My real dad died when you did, and all that’s left is an empty husk, a stranger.”
She touched the stone, feeling the engraving with her fingers. Tears unexpectedly welled up in her eyes. She’d cried last night, too, damn it. This wasn’t like her at all, but yesterday and today were special circumstances.
“There are times I miss you so much. I wish I had a mom I could confide in, talk to.” She let out a sigh. Two elderly ladies passed her by, but she didn’t care how crazy she might seem, talking to a tombstone. Yasmin bet people did it all the time. She didn’t know why she felt the sudden urge to come here after all these years. Closure, maybe.
“I met this guy,” she continued once the ladies were out of earshot. “He’s—well, he’s the kind of bad man every mother warns her daughter to stay away from, but underneath it all, he’s a decent man. Last night, I had a rude awakening when I caught a glimpse of what it’s like being in his world.”
Yasmin balled her hands into fists on her lap. Did she have the strength, the courage to stand next to the man the entire city called kingpin, monster, and other worse names? She was the only one who saw any good in him. Yasmin didn’t fail to notice the fear in the eyes of some of the men who worked under Carver.
He always called her “angel”, and while she didn’t think she deserved that nickname, she finally had an inkling why. A snippet of a conversation she had with her mother when she was a little girl floated in her mind. She smiled, knowing what her mom would have said. They had so little time together, but it had been enough. Bits of her mother had made her into the woman she was today.
Yasmin rose to her feet and brushed the dirt and leaves that clung to her dress. She had her answer.