by T Gephart
“Thank you, Sister Rachel, but I’ve already made up my mind.”
We made a plan for her to return in a few hours. She would bring food, water, a small kerosene lamp and notepad so I could write down a list of things that I needed. I hated being shut in again, the dark enveloping me as the door closed but I knew it would only be for a little while longer.
There needed to be a plan, one that helped me move around undetected. I assumed by now news of my death had spread. If my father bought the lie then he would have been compelled to play it out.
A funeral, a period of mourning—a wake. All the pomp and circumstance that was required to prove what a loving father he’d been. An obituary would have also been mandatory which meant my face would have been widely circulated. The department might have made their own announcement, the Chicago Tribune possibly running a story on my mysterious disappearance and death. Of course my father would never allow an investigation, he would grease whatever palms he needed and have my death ruled accidental. Possibly a car crash, it would explain the ashes. Or some freak natural occurrence that could be signed off by a coroner—there was always someone willing to take a stack of cash.
My stomach growled in the dark. The loud noise sounded like some kind of beast was trying to jailbreak from my belly. It had been hours since I’d eaten something, skipping dinner after the incident in the garden. Not that there was anything I could do about it now. Food, like everything else, would have to wait, but it gave me something other than my situation to think about.
When was she coming back?
I tried not to check my phone again, the hours seeming to go slower when I did. It wasn’t sure why I was struggling so much, I had been alone most of my life. But my thoughts had never been this dark. And I wondered if it was what was inside my head that was making me claustrophobic and not the room.
Finally there was a knock at the door. I pressed my ear against the metal but didn’t hear my name. It made me nervous but other than Sister Rachel, who else would know I was in here?
Just to be sure, I grabbed my gun, carefully sliding off the safety as I tentatively unlocked the door. There might not be a lot I could do if there was more than one person on the other side, but at least I could take one or two of them out before I went down.
“Couldn’t keep yourself out of trouble, huh?”
Even with my eyes squinting trying to adjust to the light, I knew it was Michael. His voice low and he pushed his way inside and shut the door behind us.
“What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?” I asked, my heart racing, unable to decide if I was glad he was here or terrified of what his appearance meant.
There was small click, a flashlight illuminating the entire room as he looked me dead in the eyes.
“I told you, I was coming back.”
Well shit had hit the fan, hadn’t it?
The plan was I stayed busy doing the rounds for Damon. Sure the busting kneecaps with baseball bats was so fucking cliché it actually hurt, but it beat sitting around looking out of my window like a paranoid fucktard. Of course the plan got shot straight to hell when I heard over the police scanner that a meat wagon had called in a DOA from Saint Margaret’s. Coincidence? Please. There was no such thing.
It took the better part of the morning to get some answers. Knocking on the wooden doors and asking questions wasn’t an option and neither was heading to the morgue and getting an eyeball at the corpse. But a few well place phone calls got me the information I needed.
Sister Catherine had decided to take a dirt nap. And fuck me if that wasn’t inconvenient. This bitch has literally been fucking up shit since the day I was born, and I hated her more now than ever.
“So, you want to tell me what happened?” I reaffixed the lock even though the chances of anyone coming through the door were slim. “Last time I left here she was a pain in the ass, but still alive.”
“I’m not sure.” Sofia shook her head nervously, her backward step hindered by a bunch of shit on the floor. “I left before the ambulance got there, but when I saw her she didn’t look good. Probably a heart attack.”
Sofia’s usual confidence was missing. She was rattled, her eyes wide and hands fidgety, unable to stand still on her feet as she looked at me.
Of course, being stuck in the dark might have rattled her cage, or it could be knowing the nun had just died. It was a bit much to ask anyone to be solid under the circumstances.
“Well, I guess we need to move our timeline then, don’t we?” I lowered the flashlight on the floor, the thing throwing enough of a glow so we could both see. “There are going to be holy people crawling all over that place like ants. Too many eyes, it will expose us for sure.”
The fact one of the other nuns had the mindset to stash Sofia out of the way was a fucking revelation. I was positive those do-gooders would have taken the first out and waited for the cops to discover her. Turns out they really are a loyal bunch, who knew? Of course she wasn’t as calm as Catherine. And looked like she was about to join her dearly departed sister when I showed up on their back doorstep. But she told me what I needed to know and didn’t make eye contact. So she was smart too.
“Did you see my father?” Sofia barely made eye contact, her hands squeezed into fists.
“Yep, and you’ll be please to know he was pissed I’d burned you.” Not that knowing would take the sting off your father wanting to kill you, but I hoped it might relax her a little. “I’m probably going to need to find a new president for my fan club.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“What about Franco?” Her voice wavered, her eyes hitting my chest but not getting any further.
“What about him?” I took a step closer wondering why she was worried about that asshole. “He won’t care as long as he thinks you’re out of the picture. If Jimmy is convinced, Franco will fall into line.”
“I think it’s better if I go it alone, from here.” She took another backward step. “I’d appreciate the documents though if you have them.”
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Go it alone? Did you stroke out when the old woman’s heart gave out?” Because that was the only logical explanation for the crazy talk. “Pretty sure we went through this and we agreed I would get you to the border before you channeled your I-am-woman shit.”
“I have some stuff I need to take care of before I go.”
“Stuff?” Maybe I was the one who was stroking out. “Sofia, need I remind you that technically you are fucking dead? You don’t exist. This isn’t the time to pick up the dry-cleaning you forgot about or take a freaking stroll down at Millennium Park.”
“Look, I know this doesn’t make sense and I know I’ll have to be careful, but there is shit that has been done—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” If the walls hadn’t been solid concrete, I would have put one of my fists through one. “You want to play snitch, you do it from a secure location. That was the plan. We just went through the whole charade so you make it out of this alive, why the hell would you want to risk it now?”
“It’s my decision.” She tipped her chin, a fuck you if ever I saw one. “Now, do you have those documents?”
“No.” I lied, not willing to hand over shit until I knew why the hell she’d lost her damn mind. “I still need to pick them up.”
Total bullshit of course. Leon had delivered exactly what I needed the day after we spoke. I had a new social, driver’s license and passport tucked away in my pocket, which is exactly where they were staying until I knew why she had developed the sudden need to take care of stuff.
“Well, can you get them to me in the next few days?” She folded her arms tightly against her chest. “You can keep the rest of the trust fund money.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” My eyes narrowed as I tracked her.
She was acting weird. Nervous. Evasive. And she was struggling with making eye contact. It didn’t take a genius to work out that there was mor
e to it than was coming out of her mouth.
“Something happened while you were here?” I gauged her response. “With Catherine?”
Ding, ding, ding. We had a fucking winner. Because the minute I’d strung that sentence together her eyes gave me all the confirmation I needed. She might have been trying to keep it locked down but her poker face sucked.
“No. Nothing.” She shrugged, continuing to play the game.
“Fine, nothing.” I smirked, stalking a little closer. “Catherine has a heart attack and you decide to go rogue. Sounds like it’s been a busy few days.”
I continued to move closer. Her eyes got wider as I closed the gap between us, but to her credit she didn’t take any more backward steps, holding her ground.
“Let me go, Michael.” She blinked, a long exhale pushing past her lips. “This is where you and I end.”
Any other time, the person on the other side of that conversation would have received a middle finger as I walked out the door. But Sofia had been different from the start. And now, well fuck if I knew why I was so compelled, but walking away wasn’t an option. Not until I knew why. It wasn’t because I fucked her. It wasn’t because I felt sorry for her either. And it sure as shit wasn’t out of a sense of duty.
“I’ll decide when it ends,” I breathed into her face. “And it doesn’t end here.”
She looked like she wanted to crumble; her arms twitched at her side while her eyes got glassy, but she stayed standing.
“I promised her,” she whispered. “I owe her.”
“Catherine? What do you owe her?” I asked, the extra words not getting us any closer to a clearer picture. “Tell me.”
“You. I need to save you.”
I’d heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Like someone had given me an uppercut right to the jaw and rung my bell.
Me?
She needs to save me?
I wasn’t the one whose father had sanctioned her death just to cover his own ass. There was no one out there gunning for me. Well, no more than usual given my line of work.
“Sofia, I’m not the one who needs saving.”
“You do, more than you know.”
There was something different in her face. Something I hadn’t seen before and it made me five different shades of uncomfortable. It crawled up my skin, infecting me like a motherfucking disease as I felt whatever self-control I had shatter into a million pieces.
“Look at me.” My hands grabbed her chin forcing her to look me in the eyes. “This is not someone you or anyone else can save. If there was any such thing as redemption, I’m beyond it.” I squeezed harder, my fingers bound to leave a mark in her pretty skin as I pushed her back against the wall. “So, if that’s the prayers you’re offering up, save your breath. Ain’t no one up there who’s listening.”
She struggled, trying to fight against my hand as I pinned her, the weight of my body holding her in place. “Now that we have straightened that out, tell me exactly what that fucking bitch told you.”
Her eyes welled, her head shaking as I held her in place, her mouth clamped shut.
“Tell me.”
“Your mother. She wasn’t a nun.” The words came out in a rush, surprising us both, her chest heaving up and down as she took big gasps of air.
“So, who was she then?”
Her existence had meant so little to me for so long I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. It would change nothing. Except that now Sofia had said it, she looked like she instantly regretted it and I wasn’t about to let it go.
“Sofia. Who was my mother?”
“Michael, you’re hurting me.” Her nails bit into my skin as she tried to loosen my grip on her face. “Let go.”
“Say it.” The words coming out of my mouth barely sounded human anymore as my jaw locked.
“Rose Santini!” she yelled. “Franco’s first wife.”
My hand let go instantly as I stepped away from her, unsure of what the hell I’d heard.
“It’s true.” She coughed. “You’re Franco’s son.”
It made no sense.
No fucking sense.
It couldn’t be true.
“There is no way Franco would have let her leave with his kid. The man is a sadistic asshole and he would have chained her to the bed if he had to. There’s no way, especially if she was married to him.”
“He didn’t know.” She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her middle like she was going to split apart. “She left before he found out. That’s why she was hidden in the convent. Why she was dressed as a nun. It was the only chance she had. She was trying to protect you. She loved—”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” My fists white knuckled at my side, ready to UFC the wall if that was my only option. “Don’t you dare.”
I couldn’t keep still. My nerves jangled as heat rose up my spine, making my skin feel too tight against my bones. I wasn’t sure what pissed me off more, the lies coming out of her mouth or that she’d convinced herself that they were true.
“You might hate it, but it doesn’t make it any less a fact.” She opened her mouth, refusing to stop talking even though I didn’t want to hear another fucking word. “You have people who can find out things, do some digging. The marriage was annulled after she disappeared but the records will still exist. Paper clippings, there will be proof that Rose was married to him.”
“So what?” I laughed, wondering how much of the Kool-Aid she’d actually drunk. “You think there was only one Rose in the whole of Chicago? Don’t be so naïve.”
“No, but I bet there is only one Rose who fits your mother’s description and disappeared about eight months before you were born.” She moved away from the wall, eyeing me carefully as she put some distance between us. “What did you tell me about coincidences? You didn’t believe in them.”
So Catherine fucking tells me nothing—you know, the person who was actually involved—but spends five minutes with Sofia then all of a sudden spills her guts?
If she hadn’t been dead, I would have killed her myself.
“It was eating Catherine alive. I could see it.” Sofia filled the silence. “She didn’t tell you because your mother died trying to protect you from Franco, Catherine promised her that he would never know.”
“Just stop.” My hands shot out, the only reason they didn’t make contact with anything is because she’d been smart enough to keep her distance. “I can’t fucking think.”
Intellectually I agreed, assuming this checked out—the stuff about Franco’s first wife—then it would be a one in a million chance that it was bullshit. Like a fucking lottery win, except instead of a truck load of cash you got syphilis. And I was just as excited at the prospect of being Franco’s kid as I was at getting a sore dick and going blind.
“So even if it is true—and I’m not saying I believe this horseshit—but say it is.” Pretty sure I’d prefer the sore dick at this point. “This affects you how?”
“Because I know what this information could do to you, I can see it in your eyes.” She looked like she was carefully considering her words. Good thing too because if she mentioned the need to save me again, I wasn’t going to be responsible for my actions. “And because I want to make sure that your father and mine never destroy another life again.”
It was a little late for that. She was nothing like the girl I’d met on her doorstep. Seems like it or not, there was more of Jimmy in her than we both knew was there. And me, well I guess I’d always been a bastard, I guess it just made more sense now.
“If anyone has the right for revenge, it’s me, Sofia.” And she better hear the words because I wasn’t joking. “You don’t get to make the rules on that. I don’t give a fuck how many dead nuns you promised.”
I watched the lump in her neck bob up and down her throat. She might have a fairytale in her head about how this was going to play out, but she knew what I was capable of. I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all. The differen
ce between me and my so-called dad—I had nothing left to lose.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked, tiptoeing around the powder keg she’d just lit a match near.
“Exactly what I said I was going to do.” I rolled my head to one side and then the other, fighting a losing battle against the tension in my neck. “Get you out of here and then come back for them.”
“What if I won’t go?”
“Why would you stay?”
“The same reason why you won’t leave.”
I hated that her reasoning made fucking sense. She had every right to make her own choices and if sticking a knife through her father’s heart was one of them, then I didn’t get to stop her. Fuck knows the bastard deserved it. But there was so much noise in my head and part of it was me not wanting that for her.
My emotional grid was all over the place. But I didn’t have time or the inclination to process it, and I hated fucking feelings to begin with.
While the possible new branch to my family tree sure put a new spin on things, it didn’t change that the reason I knew any of it was because of the woman in front of me.
I still wasn’t sure if I was pissed off or grateful, probably both. And whatever was driving her—why she was so compelled to see this through to the end with me—it was probably the same reason as to why I hadn’t put her in a body bag when Jimmy asked for it.
Like it or not, there was a fucking connection. Maybe it was just the fact we both had sadists as fathers, or maybe it was because we both didn’t lie down and die. But I was confident she would be all right as long we stuck together. And then, when this was all over, she could leave like she was supposed to. Without me, because that had always been the plan.
“I know you don’t want to hear it. And I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. It’s like everything you’ve ever known has been turned upside down. But even though you are Franco Santini’s son, you are not him. For once, let someone in. Let me in.”
“Don’t turn this into a tragedy, Sofia,” I warned her, the words ironic considering we were halfway there already. “I’ll be disappointed if you aren’t smarter than that.”
