by T Gephart
A man who could corrupt his sons into believing that this was the way life worked and then turned around and killed his only daughter because she hadn’t toed the line.
I felt sick. Consumed by rage on how he had infected them all, with no regard for anyone’s life or happiness other than his own.
And I’d never wanted to kill him as much as I did at that moment.
It felt like an eternity waiting, but I knew it hadn’t been longer than a couple of minutes, and when everything had gone quiet again I took the first step away from Michael. He had been at my back, and I knew that as I did this, he would continue to be. And then I would do the same for him. Freeing us both from this merry-go-round.
My head nodded as I moved slowly up the stairs, Michael following me close behind. I could tell he hated not being in the lead, but it had to be me. And for once he didn’t argue, his tensed jaw staying shut as I strode further and further toward my father’s bedroom door.
It was dark, so dark. The house starved of light just like it had been of compassion. And every single part of my body was hypersensitive as my hand slowly pushed open the door and my foot took a step inside.
“Elena, I told you there is no one here.” My father’s voice was followed by a rustle of sheets, his hand hitting the lamp on his nightstand.
Michael didn’t wait, stepping out from my side and getting behind my father before his feet had fully hit the floor.
“Hello, Jimmy.” The gun in his right hand was pointblank at my father’s temple while his left was pressed against my father’s kidneys. “We’ve come to pay our respects.”
“What the fuck.” My dad’s eyes got wide as they focused on me, my gun aimed at his heart. “Sofia?” he coughed in surprise.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” My feet moved me closer even though my skin prickled in repulsion at being in the same room with him. “Maybe that’s exactly what I am.”
His chest expanded but for a man who always had so much to say he was speechless. I’m sure he was asking the questions even if he wasn’t vocalizing them, namely why hadn’t Michael killed me? But in his eyes I saw that he knew that none of them mattered anymore. I was still here and I knew everything.
“Sofia,” Michael hissed, reminding me I had a job to do. “Do it, or I will.”
I secured the safety and holstered my weapon. It was the first time since we’d entered the house that I didn’t have it in my hand and I felt naked without it. But Michael was right about not being able to shoot my father. It would attract too much attention and could only be used as a last resort.
The sheath Velcro’d to my thigh held a hunting knife. Michael had given it to me before I’d crawled into the trunk of his car. It was heavier than it looked, razor sharp, and as my hand grabbed the perfectly balanced hilt, I felt empowered.
“You won’t do it.” My father coughed, his lips twisting into a smirk. “You are too much like your mother. She’s weak too, but at least she learned her place.”
Later I would try and remember the moment, but in the present I didn’t care. My hand rose and I sliced his neck from one side to the other as the gush of blood sprayed onto my chest.
He spluttered. His eyes wide open in complete bewilderment, his body jerking as Michael held him up—the guns in his hands not helping—as the blood flowed onto the floor. And there would be no final words spoken, not from him to me or me to him.
“Good thing you’re dead and they won’t be able to find me in the cop DNA data base.” Michael lowered my father’s still-twitching body to the floor. “It will be a real head scratcher for their CSI team.” He stood up, holstering one of his guns and smiled. Completely unaffected by the fact he’d just witnessed me fillet my father’s throat.
“Is that it?” My eyes fell to the floor when my father’s eyes were closing, everything around him being stained red.
“Yeah, if he isn’t already dead, it will happen in about another minute.” He looked down at my father. “I think he’s already gone.”
I wasn’t in a white dress, but my dark blue jeans and black hooded sweatshirt were covered in blood just like in the dream. My hands were also stained, as whatever was left on the blade continued to run down my hand.
It wasn’t that I regretted it, because I didn’t. He needed to die and it needed to be by my hand. But there was no instant relief. Like I expected some weight to be lifted off my shoulders and that didn’t happen. I guess that was because the job was only half done. There was still one more man who needed to go before I would feel free. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get to him without Michael trying to stop me.
“We need to go, now.” Michael took the knife from my hand and wiped it on my father’s comforter. It was mostly clean when he slid it back into the sheath on my thigh. “Just in case.” He nodded, twisting my body so I was facing the door. “Now, walk.”
My body clicked into automatic, my feet moving one in front of the other until they were at the doorway. Hands functioned when they were supposed to, opening the door, my legs carrying me out of the room until I was out in the hall. Michael took care of closing the door, or at least I assumed, seeing it was shut and I didn’t think I had done it.
We’d only gone five steps.
Five steps before I heard the door open. No, my father wasn’t the second coming like he had thought he was, his dead body not resurrecting from the bloody pile where we’d left it. It was another door.
“James?”
The light from my mother’s bedroom spilled out into the hall, her slippered feet carrying her out of her room with barely a sound.
“Oh, fuck,” Michael whispered behind me, his hand giving my arm a squeeze before I heard it reach for his other gun.
“No,” I blew out of my mouth in a rush, praying he wouldn’t hurt her. As much as I used to despise her compliancy, I realized now she had been a victim in this too. She was just doing what she needed to survive. Unlike me, she didn’t have a choice to leave.
“Sofia?” My mother’s kohl rimmed eyes squinted, her irises so glassy I wasn’t sure she could see at all.
“Mama, it’s okay.” I took a tentative step forward, the open palm behind my back the only hold-on I could give Michael. “Go back to bed.”
“What happened to you?” She lifted her hand to her mouth as she took in my appearance, traveling the length of my body. “Were you in an accident? There is so much blood.”
“I’m fine, Mama.” I moved as close as I could without touching her. “Please, go lay down and go to sleep.”
Lord knows how many sedatives she’d taken, a lot given her unsteadiness on her feet and even with the limited light I could see the dilation of her pupils. With any luck she wouldn’t remember a thing by morning. The encounter explained away as a weird Valium induced dream that was brought on by the grief.
“Did you die, Sofia?” She stood still, her chest moving slowly as she looked at me with pain in her eyes. “Your father told me that . . . you died.”
“Yes, Mama.” I struggled against the lump in my throat. “I died.” My chest tightened as I fought the urge to cry, unimaginable pain ripping through my heart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be here for you. I’m sorry you had to do this alone.”
“Beautiful child, no.” She opened her arms wide, inviting an embrace. But I didn’t move, my heart breaking that I couldn’t touch her. “Did you feel pain, did it hurt?” Her eyes pooled with tears as her arms closed around herself, the hug I’d rejected given to herself.
“No, there was no pain.” I shook my head as my own eyes started to water, the words harder and harder to speak. “There is no pain where I am.” I swallowed hard and took a breath. “There is a beautiful field, full of cornflowers and the sun shines all the time. I’m free now.”
“Sofia. We need to—”
“Who is this man?” My mother’s eyes widened as they fixed on Michael.
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, her
body recoiling as his large frame appeared beside mine. He had waited as long as he was going to.
“Is he the one who killed you?” Her fingers made the sign of the cross as she took a step back.
“No, he has protected me.” The strangled words made their way up my throat. “He has kept me safe, Mama. This is Michael and he is a good man.”
“Well thank you, Michael.” She struggled a little but managed to tug the edges of her sad mouth into a smile. “For taking care of my beloved.”
“You’re.” Michael looked at me and then my mother before clearing his throat. “You’re welcome.”
His head jerked to the stairs we still had to descend, calmly indicating our time was running out. He went first, carefully hiding the gun he still held in his hand under his arm as he backed away from us. And as much as it hurt to leave, I turned and followed. Muscle memory was the only thing controlling my limbs, doing what I couldn’t as they carried me away. Every stride killing me that I had just convinced my mother I had died.
“Sofia,” she hiccupped, making my body unable to take another step.
“Yes, Mama.” I turned knowing it would be the last time I would ever see her again.
“I love you, baby.” Her voice broke as the tears spilled from her eyes. One of her hands was outstretched as if to reach for me while the other rested on the nearby wall. Her ability to support her own weight exhausted as she tried to stave off her tears. “Even when you left I loved you. I know your father drove you away. I know he said terrible things, said that you weren’t part of this family anymore. But he never got to take you out of my heart. I love you even now that you’re gone.”
“I love you too.” I barely got the words out as the first tear fell, my heart literally tearing into pieces as I witnessed the pain in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, my darling.” She wiped her own tears before managing a crooked smile. “I’ll be with you soon.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
It was the only comfort I could give her, the only thing I could offer her as my father’s blood stained my chest and the floor of the house she had to sleep in tonight. I hoped in the morning one of my brothers would take her away from here, that she would finally find some peace. That the days she spent in a medicated haze would end, and she would find some of herself again. I prayed that it wasn’t too late and she hadn’t been lost forever.
It should have been hard to turn around and leave. But it wasn’t. And not because my heart wasn’t breaking with every step I took away from her, because it was. But because unlike the first time I’d left this house, there was hope that she would make it. And if all of this had to happen for that, then it was worth whatever hell I was going through.
The stairs seemed longer on their way down, neither of us saying a word as Michael moved a step ahead of me until we were back on the ground floor. The enormous marble entranceway that sprawled out in front of us was empty and dark, just as it had been before. Or at least it was until the ornate glass panels in the large wooden front door illuminated, the rumble of an engine suggesting that headlights were the source.
“We need another way out, Sofia.” Michael grabbed my arm and all but threw me into the living room, squeal of dusty brakes barely audible over the heartbeat in my ears.
“Every other way is covered by the cameras,” I hissed as my panic rose. “The sensors will kick in and trigger the lights. Our best way is to head to the garage and wait it out and then go the way we came.”
It wasn’t a good plan. With no way of knowing who was out there and how they were getting in, it might be damn well idiotic. But it was the best chance we had of making it out undetected or without getting into a gunfight on the front lawn. While the neighbors hadn’t noticed us silently breaking and entering, they would definitely call the police the minute they heard a gunshot.
His jaw tensed not agreeing with my assessment but he didn’t seem to have a better one himself. And with a quick nod he followed me to the door that enabled internal access to the garage. It wasn’t far from where we’d entered through the side door, the few feet hopefully able to be navigated without detection when the time came to leave.
We stepped quickly inside, closing the door behind us, our bodies crouching down in between my father’s Bentley Continental and Cadillac Escalade. Dear God, please don’t let whoever is out there have the remote to the roller door, my lips moved in silent prayer. The hope that both the cars were parked inside enough of a guarantee that no one would be coming in that way.
It smelled like Armor All and leather as I palmed my Smith and Wesson. My body leaned on the car to help me balance my weight but the slick paint of the Caddy was making it difficult for me to stay still. And while the engine of the car had stopped, there was no sound of the front door to the house opening either.
The wait made me nervous; especially since there was no way of knowing who was out there and what were they doing.
Fear shot through me as the whirl of the overhead motor hoisting the heavy door kicked in. We had literally a second to scoot from in between the cars to wedging ourselves between the grille and the wall. It was a tight fit, each of us just being able to sink to our hunches as the overhead light clicked on and the door rose higher.
Those prayers I’d been saying weren’t getting answered.
And whoever it was in the driveway, was coming in.
“Michael,” I whispered knowing this might be my last chance.
“Not now.” He put his finger to his lips. His head turned side to side, apparently trying to form a new plan.
“It was worth it.”
“What?” He stopped cold.
Our eyes connected.
“Everything.”
Sofia’s oldest brother—James the second, or Little Jimmy as he was known by his family—walked inside with Franco Santini. Because I had wrongly assumed the night couldn’t get any worse so a big steaming bowl of fuck-you had to land in our laps.
Little Jimmy was agitated, his hand holding a gun and he looked like shit. His shirt was crumpled like he’d slept in the thing, with his tie pulled loose at the neck. Franco on the other hand was his usual GQ—three-piece suit, fedora and big ass grin on his smug fucking face. He seemed to have zero concern that only one of them appeared armed. I guess considering the angle Little Jimmy was holding the revolver he had a greater chance of getting a hangnail than actually getting shot. The barrel not pointed in any way hostile.
The other Y chromosome Amaro children weren’t with the duo, the two of them walking inside and lowering the door. The implications of what the hell was taking place sending my brain into free fall.
Aside from the fact that Franco hated Jimmy senior—the two assholes only working together over the mutual dissent with Sofia—Franco also didn’t make house calls.
The bastard demanded you came to him, or at the very least met on neutral territory, so his appearance at Casa Armaro was more than a little suspect.
And there was also the situation where the last time I’d seen the piece of shit he’d jacked me from behind and drugged me in an effort to “incentivize” me. Oh and we hadn’t even gotten to the part where I’d recently found out he was also apparently my father. Fucking brilliant because I didn’t think I could hate the man any more than I already did.
Sofia’s eyes widened as she crouched lower against the Bentley. I, on the other hand, angled my head so I was just able to see past the Cadillac’s giant front bumper, just enough to be able to see the view.
They stayed at the far end of the garage, leaning against the cars like they were about to shoot the breeze while pumping gas but the look on Little Jimmy’s face was anything but calm.
“You know I’ve known your father for fifty years.” Franco looked around the walls of the garage, bastard seeming to enjoy himself. “Never once have I ever been invited to his house. Even when we were boys who played in the street together.”
“Well, that’s the difference between me
and him.” Little Jimmy yanked at the tie knot and loosened it further. The gun still not pointed at anyone in particular. “I don’t care about invisible lines between neighborhoods, and who runs what. All I care about is finding the piece of shit who torched my sister and returning the favor. You know that’s what I’m owed at the very least based on the agreement between the families.” His hands twitched at his sides. “And my father can either get on board or step aside, because I won’t rest until the animal who did that to her is in the ground.”
Well well, it seems like there was a little communication problem between the two Jimmies, with senior failing to mention he’d been the one pulling the strings.
Of course, we all knew the reason I’d been tasked for the job in the first place was because he needed a fall guy. But his assurances that shit wouldn’t blow back on me weren’t looking too solid now were they. Good thing he was dead already, or I would ass fuck him with my nine and watch as he vomited up the bullets.
“You talk like you’re ready to play with the big boys now.” Franco laughed, no doubt enjoying the fact that Jimmy’s kid was looking to him for permission. “You done pretending to be a businessman in New York City?”
“I was done being a pussy when my sister ended up in an ashtray.” Little Jimmy’s voice got hard, guttural. And while I knew Sofia’s father hadn’t given a rat’s ass about her, this kid definitely gave a fuck. Well, at least one of the Jimmies had a pair.
“You said I have your support on this. We agree that I get the kill on Michael. And not you, my father, or anyone else in Chicago gets to retaliate.”
A big pair it seemed if he thought he could come after me. Pity the situation was what it was; if he wasn’t so hell bent on killing me I might have shaken his hand.
Sofia’s face was getting panicked, her chest moving in and out as she started to freak out.
“He has no family.” Franco crossed his arms across his chest. “If you have our blessing, there is no one who would dare come after you. But are you sure you have discussed this with your father?”
