I screamed and jumped back when the two men stumbled into the house.
Dad came rushing out of his office at the sound of my scream and the squabble.
His face when he saw agent Peterson contorted into something dark and deadly, a look I’d never seen before. Instantly, I recalled what he’d said the other night.
That he’d cut off agent Peterson’s head himself for his carelessness.
“You have a nerve and some balls showing up here,” Dad screamed.
The man holding agent Peterson released him and shoved him toward Dad.
“Dad,” I cried.
Dad looked at me and scowled but quickly returned his focus to the agent, who was now panting.
“You need to come clean. Tag is after me,” Agent Peterson winced.
Dad snarled. “How dare you come here! You messed everything up. I heard your bullet killed my wife.”
I looked to Agent Peterson unable to believe what was happening. He’d killed my mother.
“It was an accident. Raphael, what was she doing at the docks? No one saw her coming. It was like she was suddenly there, and it was too late. Bullets were firing everywhere. It was all a mess. Tag’s men were armed and fired first. We had to defend ourselves, and Eloise got caught in the mix. She came out of nowhere. Now my job is in question for what happened, and Tag wants my family dead.”
“What do you think I should do? Seriously, tell me.”
“I don’t know what else to do. I have kids. I have kids,” he pleaded.
Dad threw a fist in his face. Bones cracked, and Agent Peterson stumbled backwards into the arms of the man who’d jumped him at the door.
I moved back into the wall that backed to the kitchen, holding my breath, holding my heart. Holding on to my sanity. When did my normal, mundane home turn into this?
One thing was for damn sure. My father had done a very good job at keeping this from me. This way of life. He switched so effortlessly into the monster I saw before me.
Right there in front of me, he pulled a gun from his back pocket and fired two shots into Agent Peterson’s legs. I screamed.
“I have a kid too. What do you think Tag will do to me?” Dad snarled and fired another shot. “I have a family to protect, and a name. Take him.”
Agent Peterson was screaming and flapping around on the ground. Blood was everywhere.
Two more men came to help and took hold of him, carrying him off.
“Brutus, stay with my daughter. If this fool talked, there could be trouble,” Dad said to the taller man. He wasn’t even bothering to hide the anger in his voice or hide who he was. “Watch her.” He looked from him to me, me cowering in the corner, pressing into the wall as if I willed it to swallow me.
I wished it would. I wished it would suck me straight into an alternate dimension and keep me there until the world that I knew came back.
Because this was a nightmare. It had to be.
I watched them leave. I watched Dad leave, and I knew something bad was going to happen.
Brutus looked at me, at least with sympathy, but it did nothing.
I retreated to my room that had become a prison for me and decided there was only one thing I could do now.
Leave.
But would he let me go? Would my father allow me to leave?
I was going to be leaving for New York in a few weeks anyway, and there wasn’t any talk of that not happening. Unless Millicent had told him, I wasn’t going, he wouldn’t know.
I couldn’t stay here, not after all that I’d seen.
My bags were packed by the time Dad returned in the early hours of the morning the next day.
I just had to plan how I’d leave. The sooner the better.
When I saw on the news three days later that Agent Peterson had been found in a lake with his body mutilated and his head missing, I threw up several times.
Dad had really killed him.
That was it. Soon had to be tonight.
I had money that would enable me to take care of myself. It was from my inheritance my grandparents had left me. Since they’d left it openly to me to use whenever I was ready, I didn’t have the trouble most had accessing an inheritance.
I had fifty thousand dollars. It would be more than enough. I’d actually wanted to use it to put towards opening the dance school I wanted to own by the time I turned thirty. The plan was to dance in a company until I was in my mid-twenties and then teach. I’d planned to go back to Julliard as a teacher. Do that for a few years. Then open my own dance school. Maybe some place nice and dreamlike, like in the village in Italy near my grandparents’ chateaux.
At least I was able to dream it, if not live it.
Right now, I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. I just needed to get out of here.
And I didn’t want a scene. I wasn’t going to say goodbye. I managed to give Millicent a lingering hug before she’d left earlier, but I never let on that it would probably be the last time I was going to see her. I thought, though, that she suspected that something was up with me because I ate her cookies and downed the milk.
I didn’t want to, but I did it to have something to remember her by.
Dad was in his office, and a few of his henchmen were around. I wanted to just slip out, but it would be difficult. I had my backpack and a carry-on case. That was me packing light.
I booked a flight to LA. Thinking it was the furthest I could get. I made reservations at the Pecan Guest House as it looked like a place I could stay for a while to gather my thoughts and think about the next plan of action, which I had no idea what that would be.
Seeing the passage to the door was clear, I walked fast to it, walking in a straight line and not looking back.
Large, clammy hands clamped down on mine the minute I turned the brass handle.
“Where are you going?” Dad asked, voice gravelly and filled with pain. I whipped my head around to see the expression on his face. “Amelia, where are you going?”
My breath caught in my throat, and I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was the first I’d seen him since I’d watched him shoot Agent Peterson, and then there was the news on TV.
I gazed into the large brown eyes on the father I’d loved so much and felt the impending doom of disappointment cascade through my heart.
It was all a lie. Everything was all a lie. He was a bad person, a person who killed people, and it was his fault why my mother was no longer with me.
“I’m leaving you. Leaving all of this,” I cried.
Shame registered on his face. “You can’t leave.” He panicked, tightening his grip on my arm to the point where it hurt.
“I’m leaving. I can’t stay here. You killed him, didn’t you?”
Darkness filled his eyes.
“Amelia, there are things you don’t understand. And like I said, I will protect you until the day I die.”
I shook my head. “How does killing him protect me?”
“It does. It just does.”
“You killed him and cut off his head, just like you said you would. Why would you do that? How could you do that?” Tears poured from my eyes when I thought of it all, and how much pain the man must have gone through.
“Amelia, I’m sorry you had to be part of any of this. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you from this world that I live in. I wanted you to have a normal life.”
I didn’t know how he thought that was a good excuse, or how I could accept that.
“I should go to the cops.” That was the second time I’d threatened that, but this was the time it counted.
He looked around him to see if anyone had heard. “You do that, and we’re all dead. Do you hear me? You included.”
“You’d kill me?” I could barely get the words out of my mouth.
“My child, I told you I would never allow anything to happen to you. It would not be me you’d have to worry about. Please stay here where I can protect you.”
I shook my head a
t him. Everything was so raw and painful.
“No. I can’t stay here. I can’t. I’ll die if I stay. My heart is broken.” I pressed my lips together when I saw a tear run down his cheek.
So many tears had been shed in this house in such a short space of time.
“Amelia, please.”
“No, Dad. I loved you so much, and now I can’t bear to look at you.” When I thought back to the way he’d shot Agent Peterson and the pain I’d seen in the man’s face, I felt like vomiting again. Then I conjured up an image of his headless body, and I felt like screaming. My father had done that. He’d killed a person. “I hate you. I hate you for what you did,” I cried, voice coming out in sobs. “I hate you,” I screamed, and that was fueled by all the emotion I’d experienced in the last few weeks.
“Amore mio.”
“No, don’t. You killed someone, and it’s your fault Mom died. I am leaving,” I declared. “I’m never coming back, ever. You aren’t who I thought you were.”
“I love you, sweet girl.” He pulled me toward him, but I moved back, keeping the distance I previously had.
“You could never love me and be this person.”
“I love you more than you could ever know, and more than that,” he cried, breathing hard. I didn’t know that anything could pierce through the anger and distress that consumed me, but that did. I saw the truth in his words through the anguish that rippled from his eyes.
I’d always been good at being able to know when people were telling the truth. I didn’t want to feel that now, but I did.
It didn’t change anything. I still wanted to leave.
“If you love me, let me go. Let me go and allow me to live the normal life I want.” That was the most coherent I’d been in days. Expressing myself, expressing the truth of what I wanted. “Let me go.”
“Something will happen to you, and I won’t be able to protect you.” He winced.
“I won’t say anything.” That went against everything inside me, but I thought it was the only ticket to my escape. Promising to keep quiet. “I won’t say anything.”
“New York, is that where you think you can go?” His voice was heavy.
“No. I can’t go to Julliard. The pain is too much. I can’t dance. Mom was my heart and soul, and you… God, you were my everything. I can’t dance anymore. Please, just let me leave.”
He looked down, then flicked his gaze back up to meet mine. “Amelia, please stay here. It’s safer.”
I shook my head. “No. I can’t. If I stay, there will be nothing left of me.”
It was true. I knew that was true. I’d go insane, crazy.
“Please, Papa, let me go,” I begged. I used to call him that when I was little.
It was only then that he released me, but he looked like death. His face turned pale, and fear washed over his features.
He stared at me, and I held his gaze. We looked at each other, then something changed in his features. Something that told me he was contemplating.
“You must never speak of this and never tell anyone who you are.” More tears ran down his cheeks. “Never tell anyone who you are, Amelia.”
I turned away from him, not bothering to answer, gripped the door handle, and opened the door.
A gust of wind rushed over the porch. I walked into it and continued walking, never looking back.
Leaving everything I knew and all that I used to be.
Chapter 2
Amelia
Present day…
I woke with a start, jumping up when the wind blew my window open.
It took me right out of my dream, or rather a nightmare of a memory I wished never happened.
Damn it, it was nearly time to get up.
My alarm clock said it was six fifty.
I’d set it for seven. I hated when I woke up like this, because I’d never successfully managed to get myself back to sleep for those last few precious minutes of escape. I’d always end up oversleeping.
I felt more tired than when I’d first gone to sleep. Same as yesterday, probably worse. It was the dreams.
Since I found out about Luc, I’d had the same reoccurring nightmare every night.
It was of the day I’d left home. The day I left my father.
That was the last time I saw him.
It was coming up to my eleventh year since I’d last seen him and the anniversary of Mom’s death was two weeks ago.
I’d grieved in my usual way, going down to the beach with a bunch of white calla lilies –Mom’s favorite – and just sat on the sand for hours thinking about her.
Mom loved the beach, or anywhere there was water she could swim in. Although she was buried in Chicago I thought the best place to feel close to her was somewhere she might have loved if she saw it. El Matador Beach was a ten-minute walk away from my house. It was beautiful. The kind Mom would have loved with its rocky shores and clear water.
Every year without her was awful. This year though, the pain felt worse. It felt raw, just like it did the first time. Recent events had opened the wounds of grief and pain. Going to the beach this year reminded me of Luc because he’d taken me there, first kissed me there. First captured my heart there.
I sighed and brought my hand up to my cheeks.
Today… today marked three weeks since Luc had practically left, or since I’d let him go. Escape. I didn’t know the correct term for it because I didn’t know what exactly I’d done.
The bottom line was he was gone, and I was beginning to think now that I’d never see him again.
My heart broke every time I thought that and took me close to tears. I hated crying. It showed weakness, and I didn’t want to be weak. Not right now. Not ever.
I couldn’t help it though.
The memory of Luc, a man I absolutely couldn’t be with, always brought tears to my eyes and made me feel so sad.
God, it was ridiculous. I’d been with my ex, Jordan, for years and never felt this way when I’d found him cheating on me. I saw him right in the act of it, and the off-handish way he never came after me even to apologize should have made me feel like nothing.
This was worse.
Maybe that was the reason for the dreams. The last time I’d felt this way, so very lost, was when I left my father.
That night, as I’d walked away from him and away from the life I’d grown up with, I literally became someone else. A blank slate with all my emotions suppressed.
I left that night, and I didn’t tell anyone what happened. Until this day, I never spoke of it, never looked up what happened after the headless body of Agent Peterson was found. Never looked back.
I came to LA, stayed in a guest house until I could wrap my head around being alone, and started afresh. The first thing I did was change my name. Then I arranged all the transfer details from Julliard to UCLA. I changed everything and practically wiped away the life I’d cherished. The lie of a life I’d led.
And now my father was dying. Luc said he was dying. Luc had said a lot, but there were a few things that stood out in my mind.
The first was the fact that my father had sent him here with some crazy promise of getting the family business if he married me.
Jesus Christ, who did that in this day and age? Who even believed such a thing could be arranged? But fuck, getting me to fall for Luc had worked like a charm. Sometimes I felt like an idiot, and sometimes I just… I just missed him.
And this revelation that Dad was dying and that I was in danger was unreal.
From that I’d been able to piece things together. Piece everything together.
The truest thing that Dad had ever told me was that he loved me, and he would protect me until he died.
Yes, I was in danger, and the reason why he’d sent Luc here to me was because he must have been unable to come himself.
Dying. Sick.
I was very aware over the years that my father hadn’t simply allowed me to leave. He kept an eye on me through his trusted men. Spies, or whateve
r they were called. They kept me safe and made sure no one knew who I was. Even when I had to do anything official, it was done without question. The first was changing my name, then arranging to go to UCLA. That was the first time I’d felt nervous about being found out, but it was done. No questions. I’d slipped into being Amelia Taylor effortlessly.
As the years went by, I understood more and more about what my family business was. That part I’d looked up.
I was seventeen when I left home, and before my mother was killed, I’d barely seen any of my father’s friends. I’d heard names thrown around. Knew of one and two people, like Luc’s father, but that was all. It was because he’d kept my mother and me out of business. So far away that few people knew who we were.
The people who were after me went through a hell of a lot to find out who I was, and I expected any day now for something to happen.
They knew who I was, and right now, I wasn’t sure how a near month had passed and nothing had happened.
Was it Luc? Was that him? His doing? That’s what he said he was doing. Protecting me.
I believed him, but maybe my feelings made me blind to the possibility that all he wanted to do was escape.
I shuffled in the bed and sat up when my door pushed open. Gigi came in. Her hair was pink today and hung in big curls down her shoulders.
A small smile lit up her pretty face.
“I thought I heard you.” She sighed, pulling the lace of her dressing gown close. “How about some pancakes? I’ll even put that jelly I made on it.”
“I’d like that.” I returned the smile and swung my legs around to slip off the bed. “I’ll make hot chocolate.” I widened my smile and joined her, linking my arm with hers.
I was trying to be okay, and to be a friend.
Gigi was like family to me. We’d known each other for so long that she might as well be.
She was the first person I’d taken for a friend. This was back in college when we roomed together.
I remember that first day at UCLA when I met her. Her hair was bright red. I’d walked into our room to be told that she’d Feng shui-ed the whole room and hung a dream catcher over my bed. She also thought I’d appreciate the bigger bed. A sign of her willingness to put others’ comfort before hers.
Mafia Scars (The Accidental Mafia Queen Book 2) Page 2
