by Chloe Cox
I’m speechless. I’m standing barefoot in front of the man who’s responsible for giving me my family back, and he’s telling me it was cheap. I don’t know how to react.
Mr. Wolfe doesn’t seem bothered. He spies a piece of lint on his pant leg and flicks it off, still talking.
“And what’s more, Harlow—and this is probably the most pertinent point,” he says, looking back up at me to make sure I’m paying attention, “but it would cost me about as much to take him away again.”
Oh God.
I can feel his words begin to wind their way through my system, shutting my awareness of everything else down. Everything else becomes nonessential. Everything but what he’s just said.
He could take Dill away.
“You really need a new couch,” Mr. Wolfe says, shifting his weight.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper. “Taking Dill away? You can’t take him away.”
“Oh yes, I can,” he says, standing up to his full, impressive height. He’s not as tall as Marcus, but he’s still over six feet, and he knows it. He makes me feel small. “I’m talking about the very many judges I happen to know very well. I’m talking about how easy it would be to have a social worker come around and make an unfavorable report about Dill’s care.”
Mr. Wolfe sneers at me and spreads his arm wide.
“This house, Harlow, it’s falling apart. You just had to have the septic system replaced,” he says, giving me a knowing, nasty look, “but who knows what else could go wrong? Who knows what Dill’s exposed to? You work late hours for little pay in a trashy little bar with no hope of a future and you bring strange men around the house. Strange men with questionable ties to certain criminal elements.”
Mr. Wolfe is getting angrier the more he talks. I’m having trouble following his words through my shock. I can’t get past the mortal panic of having him tell me he could take Dill.
“You’re the criminal element,” I say when I can get my mouth working again.
Mr. Wolfe smiles again and shrugs. “Yes. So? The ‘element’ in that phrase is important. Means they can’t prove anything. But they can take your brother away. Especially if I pay them enough. And Harlow, you’re looking a little out of it right now, so let me be completely clear: You drop this little project of yours of saving a dying fucking neighborhood and you accept my offer for this shithole of house, you leave my son alone, or I make sure little Dillinger goes to foster care and you don’t see him again until he’s eighteen.”
I stare at him. I’m numb. The world around me is still and unmoving, and I can’t even feel the panic anymore.
“Harlow,” Mr. Wolfe snarls at me, “do you understand?”
“You can’t do that,” I say flatly.
“I can, and I will. I’m done playing with you, little girl,” he says, and he comes closer, looming over me with his face twisted up into this ugly mask of anger, and now the resemblance to Marcus is the thing I find scariest about this. It’s a face that looks like Marcus, but with the expression of Dylan, when he pinned me in that bathroom.
I recoil in horror, my body jumping away, and Alex Wolfe pounces. He grabs my wrists and easily holds me motionless. At his mercy.
Alex Wolfe puts that face close to mine and says, “I indulged this little fantasy for the sake of my son, so that he could get it out of his system once and for all, but I can see now that I need to step in. This is over.”
“Marcus won’t let you do this.”
Mr. Wolfe laughs. It’s a different laugh, and some faraway, analytical part of my brain recognizes that this is his genuine laugh, not the one he uses to convince people he’s a good person.
He laughs at me, and then he looks me up and down, and I can feel his cold eyes raking over my body, and it makes me feel dirty. Exposed.
“I can see why he keeps coming back, I’ll give you that,” he says. The feeling of his skin against mine makes me want to throw up. “But you’re not good enough for him, Harlow. You’re just some trash from the neighborhood, and Marcus is special. He’s meant for more than this.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” I say. My voice is coming back. So is my anger. “Marcus will not let you do this.”
Alex Wolfe laughs again, a horrible sound. “Look around you. Do you see him here? I pulled him off this job, Harlow. Just like he did what I told him to five years ago, he did what I told him to today. He’s gone.”
Each word falls on my chest like a physical blow. Each word takes something out of me. I can’t argue with him. Marcus isn’t here. Marcus is gone. Marcus did what I always feared, and left. The pressure of that old fear rising up inside me is unbearable, and I almost, almost give in. I can feel it wearing me down.
But damn it, Marcus deserves better.
“No,” I say. My voice is so small. It sounds desperate. I don’t know if I believe it.
“Yes,” Alex sneers. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, holding me so I can’t move, can’t get away, and I turn my head away and close my eyes. I feel his hot breath on my cheek as he says, “Now sign the fucking papers or I will destroy your little life.”
chapter 21
MARCUS
This car is too damn slow.
I’m gripping the door handles, the dashboard, anything, my whole body tense and primed to explode. Alex is alone with Harlow. I don’t know that I believe Brison that Alex won’t touch her. Five years ago I would have believed it, if only because I didn’t know him.
Now?
I know what he’s capable of.
I should have figured it out then. I shouldn’t have made excuses for him. Shouldn’t have thought that I’d be able to outsmart him.
Five years ago, after I’d told Alex Wolfe that Harlow and I were a package deal and I wasn’t going anywhere without her, he came back at me with a new offer.
He didn’t bother to take me out to dinner for this one. Just drove me around in a car like the one I’m in now. Said it all so matter-of-factly.
“You go out to California,” he said to me, “And you forget about that girl, you stop all contact, and I’ll make sure she gets custody of her little brother.”
“What?” I said.
Like I didn’t understand. Probably because I didn’t. In a fundamental way, I didn’t understand that people could be like this.
“You heard me,” he said. “I’ll talk to Judge McPherson down at the club. I’ll fix it. I’ll pay for the lawyer. All she has to do is show up and she’ll get her brother. But I fucking mean it, Marcus. You drop her completely,” he said, looking at me with this intensity, like he’d let the mask fall. Then he leaned back and said, “You’ll thank me later.”
I wish I could say I had reacted all nobly and everything. That I’d fought him outright, told him to pull the car over, the whole thing. But I think that even then he’d started to rub off on me. Because I was thinking of the angles. Already, I was thinking I could find a way to play him.
Because if I could do this thing for Harlow? Man, that was the Holy Grail. Reuniting her family meant more to her than anything else in the world, so it meant more to me than anything else in the world. I really saw it like that, so damn simple. And I really thought I could play Alex Wolfe.
What I told him was, “I’ll think about it.”
And he smiled.
What I was thinking? I was thinking I’d do this, figure out a way to get what I wanted, get Dill in her custody, then go back to Harlow. What could he do, take Dill back? I figured I’d handle it. I figured maybe over time I could convince him that Harlow and I were the real deal, that he’d come to accept it, see that he was crazy for thinking she was a loser with no future. That he’d see that Harlow wasn’t holding me back, but was the only thing that ever held me up.
I thought a lot of things. But mostly, I thought: I’ll get her Dill. I’ll get her Dill, and somehow it will all work out.
Like I said, I was dumb.
A few things I didn’t figure on: findi
ng out that my father, Alex Wolfe, was a ruthless, brutal, vindictive psychopath. He had legitimate businesses, too, plenty of them, but he ran all of them like a damn criminal. And he punished people who angered him, punished them violently, permanently. Sometimes he had me punish them. He liked to brag about how hard I could hit.
And he had an equal opportunity policy when it came to women.
I could handle him threatening me. And I fought back. I took out my anger on him routinely, let him know exactly what I thought. I think this is why Alex respects me more than the son he raised himself, because I’m willing to go toe to toe with him, unafraid. Willing to risk my neck.
But I could never risk Harlow.
I’d think about telling Alex I was done, I was gone, that I was going right back to her and being done with it—and then I’d think about what he might do to her. What he’d told me he did to the loved ones of people who betrayed him. And it was always enough to pull me back from the edge, to get me thinking that I had to plan, to make sure I had enough dough, enough leverage, enough juice to protect Harlow Chase from my father.
And then the arrogant son of a bitch decided to get involved with a development in the old neighborhood and took the opportunity to test my loyalty as it came. Put me in a position where I could choose him or Harlow.
This time, Alex was dumb. I was always going to choose Harlow. I had never chosen anything but Harlow. And the second I saw her again, it was over. It’s been over. I’ve just been on borrowed time, trying to figure things out.
And now I’m racing down the B.Q.E. with Brison, trying not to lose my head, trying to stay one step ahead, trying to figure out what the vicious son of a bitch is going to do next.
I look over at Brison. I realize he didn’t have to do this. I have no idea why he is helping me. But maybe he’ll help some more.
“What chip is he going to play?” I say through clenched teeth.
“Something to do with the kid,” Brison says.
I grind my teeth and feel my heart beating in my hands like a war drum. Dill. Of course he’s going to go after Dill.
And Harlow will do anything for Dill.
Brison pulls onto Harlow’s street and I’m already out the door, running toward her house. I’m furious. I’m furious at Alex, and I’m furious at myself for letting this happen. For letting it go on. For not being good enough to find another way.
When I see the front door hanging open, my sanity starts to shred, peeling away from me as I race toward the house. I keep thinking about how Harlow said she forgave me, how she said she believed in me. How I said I’d protect her.
It’s not rational, but if he’s hurt her, I’ll kill him. I really will.
“Harlow!” I shout as I burst through the door.
I turn around and see them, see Harlow, crying, looking small and scared, and my father standing over her, his face twisted up.
He. Has. His. Hands. On her.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I yell.
I charge at my father, but he’s already backing away, he’s already let Harlow go, and so all I can see is her. All I can see is Lo, sad and confused, and looking up at me like she’s just lost everything all over again.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask her.
Harlow blinks. I can see her hands are shaking, and I take them in my own. I kiss her hands, and then wordlessly I turn around, and find Alex cowering in the corner.
I take a step towards him.
“Marcus, I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’m just here to talk.”
I take another step.
“Marcus,” he says, softly. “You’re my son.”
One more.
“Damn it, you ungrateful fuck, I only want what’s best for you!” Alex shouts. He sounds desperate, angry, upset, evil.
I hit him in the stomach.
I watch my father buckle, watch his face twist in disbelief, watch him feel the pain he had me dole out for five years for the first time. I feel the anger over all those years swelling inside me, I feel the monster Alex Wolfe turned me into start to take control, and I know I’ll beat him to death for hurting Harlow, I’ll do it right fucking here.
And then I feel Lo’s hand on my arm, and the monster is gone. Just like that. I remember what’s real, what’s important.
I turn around and reach for her, just needing to feel her against me. I didn’t know how panicked I was until I feel her arms around my neck, until I breathe her scent in, until I know she’s still mine, she’s breathing, she’s ok.
Oh Jesus, what I’ve almost lost.
“Don’t hurt him,” Harlow says. “Marcus, promise me.”
“I promise,” I say. I can’t deny her a goddamn thing.
And it’s good she made me promise, because what she says next would have set me off.
“He says he’s going to take Dill away,” she says softly. “He says you were only ever here to get me to sell—”
Fuck that fucking scumbag fuck.
I pull back so I can look her in the eye, so she knows I’m not lying, so she knows the truth of what I feel. I have never felt this desperate in my damn life.
“I swear to you, Lo, that is not true—”
Harlow shakes her head, tears starting to spill onto her cheeks.
“I know that, Marcus, but he’s going to take Dill!”
Part of me wants to laugh. I can’t believe how amazing she is, that she didn’t doubt my intentions, even given every damn reason in the world to think I was scum. But she’s scared and panicked, and it’s not the time. I squeeze her hands in mine.
“No, he’s not,” I say. “I promise you.”
Our eyes meet, and for a second everything is calm. Everything is right. I know she loves me, and I know I’ll do whatever I have to do be worthy of it, and I know she knows it.
“Lie to me,” she says.
“Don’t have to.”
And that’s when I turn on back on my father. He’s only just now getting off the ground, his hand to his stomach, his face pale. He meets my gaze, and for the first time he looks like he doesn’t know what to do, like he’s not sure what’s happening. Good. Let him squirm.
“Did you tell her?” I ask him.
He can’t speak. Just looks at the floor. Pathetic.
I look back at Harlow, the only person in the room who matters, and I just lay it out, as simply as I should have years ago.
“You remember that birthday when I made that crappy ravioli? You remember what you told me?” I ask her.
I can see she remembers. She’s just speechless for a second, her mind working a few steps ahead of mine, the way it always does. Finally she says, in this really tiny voice, “I told you I wanted Dill.”
“Right. And I could see it on my own, Lo, the way you worried about him. You needed to have your family together. And then Alex kept coming by, trying to get me to go to California. And when I said I wouldn’t go without you…”
She’s stopped crying. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, if I’m about to get my ass kicked or what, but I can’t stop now. I wipe the last tear off of her cheek and tell her.
“He said he’d get you custody of Dill if I left you behind. And if I didn’t, you probably weren’t ever going to get custody. I thought I’d figure out a way out of it, but…”
Shit. I might as well not beat around the bush. “I was dumb, and then I was a coward about it, and I never should have made those decisions for you.”
“Marcus,” she says. She’s shaking her head rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, her eyes bright and blue and wide. I can see her trying to find the words, but she doesn’t have to. I already know.
I guess it’s a lot to take in.
And I’m lost in her until I hear Alex’s voice.
“Marcus, listen to me,” he says, clearing his throat. He’s sitting on the couch now, still looking like might throw up. He sounds different, not like I’ve heard him before. But I guess I’ve never seen him lose, either. And he
knows he’s beat if I’ve turned on him. I can hear it in his voice when speaks.
“Marcus, you can’t throw it all away. Everything you’ve worked for the past five years. You can’t. I won’t give my company to a man who does this.”
But when I turn around, I don’t see what I expect. I don’t see the conniving, vicious operator; I don’t see an adversary. I see him looking panicked and crazy. I see what I know I looked like just minutes ago when I ran through that door.
My father, Alex Wolfe, is begging.
I don’t fall for it.
I choose Harlow.
“Listen carefully,” I say. “I’m done. Harlow Chase is off-limits. Dill is off-limits. I don’t give a shit what you do with the rest of your sorry ass life, but you do not touch them. You are done messing with this family, do you understand? Or I will burn you to the ground. Everything you’ve built, every crime you’ve committed—all of it. To the fucking ground.”
Alex smiles weakly, like we’re just negotiating, like this isn’t deadly serious. I’ve got to make this crystal clear for him.
“Alex, look at me,” I say. “This is my family. She is my family. Touch her, touch Dill, and it’s over. I will go to the FBI. I will testify to every single damn thing I’ve seen you do, and everything I’ve done for you.”
He looks at me, and smiles. He fucking smiles.
“Marcus, you’re my son. Please. If you were going to do that, you would have done it years ago.”
I freeze. I have to stop myself from hauling him up just so I can hit him again. The truth is, he’s right—I could have done it, years ago. But he wouldn’t have believed me. I wouldn’t have believed me. Because I wasn’t ruthless yet. I hadn’t learned how to be vicious. I thought this is what I had to put up with for Lo and Dill. And I still believed there was a chance he’d one day give it up, that he’d change, that he wouldn’t go after her, and I could be with Harlow.
I still believed that I could have it all. That Harlow could have Dill, and I could have her, and I could have a damn father, all at the same time.
I was dumb.
I look my father in the eye, and tell him the truth.
