by Krista Holt
Then again, maybe it’s hatred in the air. I don’t have to look at my father to know he’s currently staring at me like he wants to cut out my intestines. I can feel the animosity snaking up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck as I focus on the prosecuting attorney.
“Mr. Selvaggio,” the attorney faces me, “do you understand the charges against your father?”
“Yes.”
“It’s rather a long list, isn’t it? Racketeering. Extortion. Distribution of illegal drugs. Assault. Battery. The list goes on.”
“Uh, yes it is a long list,” I answer, not really sure what she’s wanting out of me with a non-question like that.
“Do you really think he’s capable of all these things?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, I can give you examples of most of it, but if you want an example of the battery, take a look at my sister. She’s sitting right there—” I point to the shrinking outline of Gabriella, who’s sitting next to my mother. All the makeup in the world can’t hide her bruised face, split lip, and swollen eye.
“Objection!” the defense yells. “That is not pertinent to this case, and more importantly, Ms. Selvaggio’s accident is not part of the State’s evidence against my client.”
Accident? An accident? I clench my jaw hard enough to make my teeth crack, barely holding back an outburst.
“Sustained,” the judge interrupts. “Mr. Selvaggio, please only answer the attorney’s questions. If clarification is needed, I can assure you, we’ll ask for it. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good.” He motions for the prosecuting attorney to continue.
“What happened to your sister?” she asks.
“Relevance,” the defense objects.
“It is relevant to this case, your honor,” the prosecutor argues. “Not only does it show us the accused’s state of mind, but it gives us greater insight into what exactly Mr. Selvaggio, uh—” she looks at me quickly “—the other Mr. Selvaggio is capable of.”
“I’ll allow it. Please answer the question.”
“It wasn’t an accident.” I clear my throat. “I’ll tell you that much.”
“What actually happened? Please tell the jury.”
“He beat her. Split her lip. Slapped her around.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s pregnant.”
“He beat his pregnant daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see this happen?”
“No. But I came in right after and saw her bleeding on the floor.” There’s some shifting in the jury box and a muffled gasp.
“Then what happened?”
“We fought.”
“Were you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“By him?”
I laugh, knowing it’ll rankle his temper. “No, by the person who pulled me off of him.”
“What was the extent of your injuries?”
“A cracked rib, maybe two.”
“What did you say to your father after this?”
I finally meet my father’s eyes, feeling his fury, his wrath, and above all, his disappointment. I’m a disappointment to him. I’m not what he wanted in a son. I’m his only glaring failure.
There’s no silent conversation between us as we stare at each other, just loathing and hatred. My heart bangs against my ribs as I turn back to the attorney.
“I told him I would kill him if he ever laid a hand on her again.”
“What did he say?”
I pause, having to force myself to repeat the hateful words my father said to Gabriella. “He told me to get her out of the house because it would happen again if I didn’t.”
“So, did you? Remove your sister?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure she’s very grateful to you for intervening.”
Not sure about that, seeing as she won’t even look at me right now. I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want a moment like that broadcast in front of strangers. But they have to know, they need to know what he’s really capable of.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen your father get violent?” the attorney asks.
“No.”
“When was the first time?”
“I was ten…” I take a deep breath, and start at the beginning, telling everyone in the room about my Uncle Donnie. And his murder.
CHAPTER 29
Reagan
“HOW MUCH LONGER DO YOU think they’ll be?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy answers from the front seat, in between bites of the gyros he got us for a late lunch. “A couple more hours, at least.”
I huff, wadding up the partially eaten food in its foil.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I sigh. “This is nerve wracking.”
“He’ll be fine.” He takes another bite.
I don’t say anything, peering out the heavily tinted windows at the parking lot next to the courthouse where we’ve been waiting most of the day.
“You got parents?” he asks in a heavy Jersey accent.
“Don’t we all?”
He laughs. “Maybe.”
“My mother is in California. I have no idea where my father is.”
“He left?”
“Yes, when I was younger.”
He shakes his head, wadding up the trash from his lunch. “That’s rough.”
“I think I turned out okay.”
“Says the girlfriend of a mafia underboss, who’s been informing on him to the FBI since pretty much right after you met him…”
I kick the back of his seat, unable to hide a smile. “When you say it like that, I sound deranged.”
“Acceptance is the first step to recovery.”
I roll my eyes as the sounds of the city leak into the car as quiet settles between us again.
“What’d your dad do?”
“You mean, why he left?”
“No, like what’d he do for a living?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. We lived close to a naval base growing up. My mom said he was some sort of government contractor.”
“Huh, weird.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I lean forward. “How do you do this all day? I’m bored out of my mind already. I didn’t bring a book when I packed, and I’m regretting it already.”
“You get used to it. And there are worse things.”
“Like what?”
“Like, week-long stakeouts with Indian food rotting in the corner because you can’t get out of the van,” he deadpans.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me,” I laugh, reaching up toward the front. “Any chance I can get my phones?”
“Sure, Garrett gave them to me this morning.” He opens the center console of the car and produces both my Blackberry and personal cell.
I turn them on, watching the black screens light up. “Any rules I need to be aware of? Can I call people?”
“Yeah, just don’t tell them where you are, or what you’re doing, or who you’re with. I can’t let you use them for too long, otherwise someone could track them.”
“I understand,” I reply, already distracted by the hundreds of work emails loading on my Blackberry. It keeps chiming, incessantly, with each new delivered email. My personal is surprisingly silent.
Tommy whistles, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose with a thick finger. “I do not want to be you right now, that sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is.” I sigh, skimming through subject lines and deleting emails as needed. I delete a few more, sorting even more into another folder to deal with later when I come across one from Scott. He sent it right around the time I called Cameron and told him I’d be gone the rest of the week.
I don’t know what’s going on, but stay safe. Call me if I can help.
Sorry about being a jackass earlier.
Your idiot co-worker,
Scott
I smile, tapping on the screen to call him.
&
nbsp; “This is Scott,” he answers.
“This is Reagan.”
“Thank goodness, where are you?”
“I’m around.” I catch Tommy watching me in the rearview mirror. “It’s not important.”
“It kind of is. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. How’s the office?”
“Am I supposed to be honest?”
“Yes, tell me the truth.”
“Cameron’s a little pissed.”
I expected that, but hearing it hits me hard. I like doing my job, and I do it well. But I know I flaked on them. Even if it was for something more important.
“I figured he would be. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do what I can from here. But…”
“When are you going to be back?”
“I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”
Vagueness is my friend right now, because I have no idea what’s really going on here. Garrett and his team are keeping mum on all the details, and Nic hasn’t been exactly forthcoming. I’m not sure how long this trial could last. Weeks? Months, maybe?
But Nic’s testimony won’t take that long. Tommy thinks he should be done this week. After that, other witnesses and other testimonies will be used to convince the jury of Adriano Selvaggio’s guilt, dragging the length of the trial out even longer.
Though, I suspect that as soon as Nic is done testifying, the FBI is going to hide him away somewhere until the trial wraps up. And I can’t go. I have a life in D.C. A job. Responsibilities I can’t just abandon. Anxiety twists my stomach as I think about leaving him again. About us being apart. Because I have no idea what happens next, what happens after this. Does Nic ever get to have a normal life? Do I?
“Reagan?”
“Sorry, I’m here…” I nervously tuck some of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t really know when I’ll be back. It’s all very fluid right now, but I will be back.”
“Don’t wait too long,” he says. “Somehow, word has gotten around among the members of the committee about your relationship with Selvaggio.”
“What? From who?”
“No clue, but Cameron’s catching heat for it.”
“What are you saying, Scott?”
“I’m saying, don’t stay away for too long. You need to be here, reminding Cameron how good you are at your job.”
“Has he talked about letting me go?”
“No, but every politician is inevitably the same. In the end, they all bow to outside pressure.”
I sigh, rubbing my forehead, trying to ease the growing tension. “Look, I don’t have a ton of access to my phone, but send me anything I can work on remotely. I’ll do my best to be helpful even though I’m not there.”
“Sure. I’ll send you what I have.”
“Thanks, Scott.”
“Don’t thank me for doing something any friend would do.”
“Still, I appreciate it. I’ll look for your email.”
“Bye, Reagan.”
I hang up, tapping the phone against my leg with nervous energy.
“Problem?” Tommy asks.
“Only if you count getting fired from your dream job a problem.”
“They fired you?”
“Not yet, but the implication is there.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
I go through more emails, replying to what I can with the remaining minutes I have. Making myself sick with worry. What if I made a mistake, agreeing to come along?
No. The answer wells up inside of me instinctively. It wasn’t a mistake. I wanted to be here. I want to support him. But, I also want my job. I want them both. I’m seeing now, though, that that may not be possible.
On my personal cell, I tap the screen until I find my mother’s contact information and call the one person who knows me best.
“Reagan?” Her voice is bright and warm. “Are you there?”
I swallow hard, trying not to get upset. “Hi.”
“Oh, honey! It’s so good to hear from you. How are you? How is D.C.?”
“It’s fine. But I miss you.”
“Any chance you might be coming home for a visit anytime in the near future?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Things are…chaotic right now.”
“All right, but the door is always open. You know that.”
“I do.”
She pauses. “Is something wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”
A long breath leaks from my pursed lips. “Can I ask you something?”
I glance at Tommy, who is trying hard not to eavesdrop, even though it’s impossible not to hear my side of the conversation in such a confined space.
“Of course,” she says. “You can ask me anything.”
“Would…would you have stayed with Dad if you had had the choice?”
She goes quiet, but I know she’s still there. Small little sounds travel through the line, reminding me of my childhood home, stirring up a desire for something familiar. Something safe.
“I don’t know, Reagan. Your father and I had plenty of issues. Toward the end, he was so secretive. Disappearing all the time. I didn’t know if I could trust him.”
“But what if you had found out that he had left for a good reason? Maybe he was trying to protect us or something?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“But what if he had,” I insist. “What if you knew everything now? Would you still be with him? Even though he hurt you, even though he made you wonder all this time about why he left, would you take him back?”
“I get the sense we aren’t really talking about your father, are we?”
“No,” I admit. “I ran into Nic a while ago.”
“In D.C.? Why was he there?”
“His family is from New York, he was working here for a time.”
“Oh.”
“That’s it?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Are you seeing him again?”
“Yes, off and on. I finally found out why he left me in California, and why I didn’t hear from him for awhile.”
And why he kept the truth from me, even though I already knew about his family.
“It’s a good reason,” I breathe. “A really good one.”
“Are you wanting me to tell you it’s okay to be with him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to be with him, I really do. I am. But, he’s a distraction. From work, from all of the goals I set for myself. I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe you should give yourself a little bit of distance,” she suggests. “Take a break. Give yourself some time to figure out what you want.”
“I would, but that’s impossible.”
“Why?”
Because I’m trapped in a car with the FBI waiting for Nic to testify against his father.
I can’t tell her that, so I lamely supply, “He’s persistent.”
“Reagan, I can’t tell you what to do, I don’t know what I would do if I was in your shoes. Just make sure you give yourself some time to decide what you want. Don’t make any impulsive decisions. Ask questions. If Nic is the right guy, the right fit for you, he won’t mind.”
“I hope so.”
“You’re a smart woman, honey. You’ll figure out what you need. I know it.”
I wish I had her confidence.
* * *
“Here they come.” Tommy starts the car, buckling his seatbelt.
I slide over on the back seat, reaching for the door.
“No,” he barks. “You’re not supposed to be here, remember. Let Garrett get the door, we don’t want anybody seeing you.”
Properly chastised, I sit back and wait for Nic to climb inside. After quickly looking him over and confirming he’s all in one piece and alive, the shell of fear that’s been surrounding me most of the day starts to break and fall away.
“Hi.” I smile at him, relief flooding my veins.
He reaches for me, pulling me into his lap and kissing me as ever
yone else gets in and the SUV starts to move. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I kiss him again.
“And I am just going to pretend that everyone has their seatbelt buckled back there,” Garrett quips.
“Ignore him,” Nic says. “He gets cranky in the evenings.”
I stifle a laugh when Garrett snaps, “I heard that.”
“Meant for you to.”
Reluctant to leave his embrace, I shift out of his lap and buckle my seatbelt. He rests his hand on my knee, possessive, and somehow reassuring. It’s what I need after my conversation with Scott, with my mother. I need the reminder of him, and how he makes me feel.
“Did Tommy here behave himself today?”
I roll my eyes, and Tommy extends a subtle middle finger at Nic.
“You’re ridiculous you know that, right?”
He shrugs, brushing his fingers against the sensitive skin on my inner thigh. His expression turns contemplative and the earlier lightheartedness evaporates quickly. There’s so many questions I want to ask him. How did it go? Did you see your father? Are you okay?
But I don’t give them a voice, deciding to wait until we’re alone in our room to appease my curiosity. Instead, I reach up and cup his face, kissing him on the cheek.
His brows shoot up in surprise. “What was that for?”
“Because I love you.”
CHAPTER 30
I PICK AT WHAT IS left of my dinner.
Nic is in the shower, washing off the day, and I’m waiting. Waiting for him to come out, waiting to talk to him, waiting to ask him my list of questions. The ones I need the answers to so I can figure out what I’m supposed to do next.
The bathroom door opens with a click and Nic appears, dressed in dark gray sweats and a black V-neck. His hair is wet, slicked back by his hand, and his shoulders are slightly slumped with weariness as he crosses the room and drops his clothes into a dry cleaning bag.
“How was today?” I ask, pushing aside my leftovers.
“Awful, and exactly what I expected at the same time.” He sits on the edge of the bed, forearms on his thighs, hunched forward. “When we were heading inside this morning, we ran into my mother. She started crying.”
“Oh, Nic. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. I knew it was going to happen, but I wasn’t really prepared to see her like that.”
