“No, baby girl. Anything but that.”
“It’s not up to you anymore. If I can’t do this job, then there’s nothing left but shaking my ass or selling it. Take your pick, but I will not let my son starve.”
His shoulders slumped. Maybe I won. “I didn’t want this for you.”
“I know, but someone switched the cards when we weren’t looking, and I was dealt a different hand.”
“It’s dangerous. He’ll kill you if you’re caught.”
I smiled despite the warning. I knew the way my father’s mind worked. He couldn’t convince himself not to give in so he’d try to scare me out of it first. I was winning.
“Then I won’t get caught.”
“No, Mian. You don’t understand,” he stressed.
“Then make me understand,” I countered.
“The mark… it was Art.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My mind raced too quickly to piece together a complete thought.
How could this be?
Daddy may have gone down for Art’s murder, but a part of me had never believed he actually did it. When Bea named him as the person who shot Art in the heart, I still didn’t believe it.
Now my father was telling me…
“You did it, didn’t you?” He had never fully admitted it before. He allowed me to believe that something had gone horribly wrong, and he was left holding the blame.
His eyes were sad and full of remorse. “That’s between me and the dead.”
“You don’t think I deserve to know why you threw away your freedom and ruined my life to kill your best friend?” As soon as the words were out, I wished I could swallow them whole. I watched my strong father flinch. His eyes flashed with the hurt that I had caused.
“I am sorry, Mian.”
I hung my head because I couldn’t take the look on his face anymore. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I whispered to my lap.
“Four years ago, Art got this big client. Powerful. Word spread quietly among their inner circle and business for Art was booming. He was bringing in more money than ever.”
“Who was this client?”
“Too dangerous.”
“Daddy…”
“No. The client’s name is not relevant to the job, and I don’t want you mixed up in a politician’s dirty business. It’s never pretty.”
I knew the Knights did more than just grand theft. Business with politicians pretty much confirmed that their business got a lot dirtier than what met the eye.
“So, why bring him up?”
“I know you’ve been Crecia.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know you knew,” I admitted guiltily. My father avoided me, and I kept secrets. We both had reasons to feel guilty.
“Art rarely kept things from me.”
Then why kill him?
“Oh.”
“Anyway, after Art started bringing in truckloads of money. He said he wanted a bigger home, hoping it would persuade Bea to give him more sons. He had it built and moved his family.”
“Where is this house?”
“Bea loved Crecia so he compromised and had the house built on the secluded land.”
Where the buses didn’t run, and I couldn’t walk to…
Great.
“I need the address.” He recited the address without hesitation, and I committed it to memory. “How much?”
“Sorry?”
“How much were you going after?”
He hesitated, and I could see his mind working. “What makes you think any money would still be there?”
“There may not be any, but there’s got to be something valuable.”
He must have sensed my desperation. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “When are you going to make the hit?”
“Tomorrow.”
He bent low and hissed, “Are you out of your mind? It’s too risky. You have no skill and no plan to pull off a job this soon. You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Art is dead .”
“But his son is not .”
I sucked in air and slammed back against the chair. This wasn’t news to me. It wasn’t what sent me reeling. It was the sudden return of emotions and memories that washed away denial and the carefully sealed compartments in which I had locked away everything Angel Knight. I had not allowed myself to think about him or even speak his name in almost three years.
With five words, my father pressed the button that released the past. Maybe even permanently. The last time had nearly destroyed me.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do this?”
I held my stomach to calm the flutters. “Positive.”
“If something happens to you—”
“I can do this,” I reassured. “I’m my father’s kid, you know.”
He had searched my gaze before he answered. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. That’s what scares me.”
*
I left the building feeling lighter than I had going in. When visiting hours were close to ending, and I still hadn’t managed to assuage my father’s worry, I did the unthinkable and appealed to his guilt.