Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “What am I doing here?”
“I told you,” he says. “You’re home now.” He watches me for a long moment, and I’m more angry than fearful now. “I suggest you sit.” He tips his head towards the sofa, and for a moment, I want to disobey and ignore his gesture, but one of the men behind me grips my arm and tugs me toward it.
Soon enough, I’m sitting, facing my captor.
“Who are you?”
I don’t flinch. I don’t cower. My shoulders are squared in a fake show of confidence. I’m far from it. My stomach is in knots at the moment, and I’m worried I may be sick if he tries to touch me. But my bravado pays off when he smiles again.
“My name is Patrick,” he tells me. “I’ve known yer mother for most of her life.” My heart catapults at his confession. “And as much as I do think she’s a rather lovely woman, she’s disobeyed me far too much. I’m not a man who submits.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” This time, I’m confused. Why would he submit to my mother? And then her conversation on the phone rings in my ears. She told him he cannot have me, that I’m not able to visit him. So instead of trying to coax her to allow it, he’s stolen me.
“You’ll learn soon enough, sweetheart,” he tells me as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a phone. He taps the screen a few times before looking back at me. “So, tell me all about you.”
Instead of giving him what he wants, I question instead, “Where is my mother?”
“Let me make something clear, sweetheart,” he says before leaning forward. His elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t take kindly to rudeness. And I am far from a patient man. If I want something, I take it.”
“You steal it,” I bite back. Seconds later, he’s in my face, and my cheek is stinging with the harsh swat he lands on me.
“Don’t you dare disrespect me,” he grumbles deeply, his voice vibrating through his chest. His hands fist at his sides, and I shut my eyes as I await another attack, but it doesn’t come. I open my eyes and watch as he rises to full height.
“Why am I here?” I ask, noticing how he fists his hands, but he doesn’t strike me again. I am pretty sure he’s ready to hit me, to hurt me, but I am his daughter. I have no doubt about it. The resemblance is far too close.
“Your mother kept you hidden from me,” he tells me as he turns and makes his way to the cabinet sitting across the room. It’s filled with shimmering bottles of alcohol. “She’s ensured I didn’t get to see my little girl grow up. And I’m done obeying her rules.”
“If you knew I was alive, that I was born, you could have searched for me,” I tell him with frustration in my tone. “I asked her about you, and she told me you were dead.” As angry as I am at being kidnapped, when he turns around, I can read the anguish in his face. The man has done something bad, something wrong, but I have a feeling he’s only a father wanting to meet his daughter.
“There were many times over the years I wanted to come for ye,” he tells me before he lifts his tumbler and takes a sip of the ochre liquid. “But I wanted ye to have a grand life, and she promised me ye would. There are so many things at play here, Miren.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Would ye like a drink? My girl is old enough now to enjoy a drink with her old man,” he tells me. Those eyes that match mine hold hope. It’s strange to see a man like him so pained. I have no doubt in my mind he’s strong, dangerous, and the boss of the men he rules over. I’m pretty sure my father is a mobster from the way he seems to command attention, and from what I read in the file before I was taken, Mum hinted at his criminal activities.
“No, thank you,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “I just need to know if my mum is okay.”
“Aye,” he says with a smile. “Ye mam is a strong woman. She’s not goin’ ta let herself get killed, I can assure you of that, Miren.” He moves through the room slowly before sitting on the armchair once more. “And I could never hurt her.”
“But you could have me kidnapped?”
“Is it kidnapping when it’s yer own kin?” he challenges me with a smirk as he rests his right ankle on his left knee. “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m here to care for you. To show you I’m not an absentee father. I may not have been there throughout yer younger years, but I want to be here now.”
“What makes you think I need you now?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs as if it’s the last thing he would consider. He smiles and a glint in his eye sparkles. I wonder briefly if my mother ever loved him. To walk away from a man whose child you’re carrying can’t be easy. And yet, my mum did it. It doesn’t make sense to me.
“I just want to go home. That’s all.”
He chuckles. “I wish ye could, sweetheart,” he says. “But you’re here to tell me everything about ye ma’s work. Living with her, I’m sure there have been times you’ve come across colleagues of hers.”
Confusion now furrows my brows. My mother’s work has never been topic of conversation between me and her. She kept her work private. If he thinks I can offer insight, then he’s sorely mistaken. “I know nothing about what she does. I’ve spent my life being kept in the dark about her business. Mum has meetings away from the house, and if she does bring any of her partners home for dinner, or a party, they don’t talk about work.”
Patrick tips his head to the side as he regards me. “Now, I just don’t believe that. Because surely she would’ve said something to ye.”
“I can promise you, she’s never said a word.”
Frustration creases his expression, and his jaw ticks as he glares at me. Then he glances at the two men who are standing idly by and waiting instruction. “Take her to the basement.”