by Danika Fox
“Because that’s the same shit that my father did, Crush! The same shit he’s always done. He lied and lied until I didn’t know the difference between the lies and the truth, and in the end, it was never about protecting me. It was just a convenient way to get what he wanted. So what the fuck makes you any different?”
“I’m doing what I was hired to do. What I think is best for you,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s going to keep you alive.”
“So I’m just a job, after all?” I sneered, feeling like I’d been slapped right in the face. “Fucking me was just some unexpected perk?”
Crush didn’t answer. He looked tired. Resigned. Kind of in the same way he had when my father had told him in no uncertain terms that I was his responsibility. I should’ve paid more attention then. If I had, I wouldn’t have fallen into bed with a guy who saw me as a paycheck… twice.
“Just get the hell out, Crush,” I hissed, pushing him again. “Get out and stay out. And tell your fucking friend that he can stay the hell outside. The last thing I need is another biker in here thinking he can get in my pants like the last one.”
This time, he let me get the push in. “Chrissy…”
“Just go! You’ve got your orders, right?” I took a step away from him, worried that if I strayed too close, I’d end up taking a swing just to make him feel as wounded as I did. “I was right about you, you know. You make a hell of a good lap dog for my father. Hounds of Hell indeed.”
For a moment, I thought that he might say something—that he might respond, maybe even defend himself—maybe even fight for me—but when I turned my back, all I heard were footsteps, followed by the soft click of the door closing behind him. Maybe for good.
That sound might as well have been the sound of my heart breaking in half.
My eyes stung with hot, bitter tears, the rage and grief too much for me to handle. I covered my face with my hands. I never thought I’d cry over a man like this again, not after I’d let my heart get broken the first time. I wanted to scream, to break something, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t find it in me to even move from that spot.
I felt like the moment that Crush had walked out of the room, all of my strength had gone with him—from the tips of my fingers to my toes, I felt like I couldn’t even dare lift a single one. I felt weak. Powerless. The idea that I had something that could have been special in my grasp only to have it blow up in my face made me wonder whether it was even worth the effort.
Maybe it was true what they said: girls marry their fathers, in one way or another. In my case, I would always be drawn to men who would lie right to my face. Just the thought of it made my stomach turn. I deserved better.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, head in my hands as sobbed until there was nothing left. I wanted to stop feeling—to stop hurting—but now all I knew was fifty shades of despair. I’d lost so much at the club just a few short nights ago. My world had been turned upside-down, and through it all, Crush was supposed to be there to set things right again. But he’d just walked out the door to go play my father’s war games.
Everything I touched turned into a lie, and in the end, what did I even have to show for it? It had all been just one big game of make-believe that I didn’t even know I was playing.
Even my “gainful” employment at Earthly Delights could be traced back to my father’s pockets.
Why even fight it anymore? I asked myself as I collapsed backward across the bed. There’s no getting away from what my father has planned for me. No matter what I do or where I go, he’ll just find some way to get me right back under his thumb.
I turned onto my side, heaving a slow, shuddering sigh as I wiped away what tears remained streaked across my cheeks. I felt hollowed out like a pumpkin on Halloween, only there was no light behind my eyes. Everything bright and warm in me had been snuffed out.
I honestly didn’t know how long I laid there, staring off into space as the minutes ticked by. The world only stood still for me, locked in my motel room away from everything, alone with my grief. I’d even forgotten about the man Crush had called to stand guard over me—and part of me just wanted to keep forgetting. I hated the idea that I could be passed off so easily from one “bodyguard” to the next. I hated that I needed to be protected.
If it weren’t for my father, none of this would even be happening right now, I thought, my face burning with my anger. If he was just a normal person, then I could be like every other girl my age—going off to college to study what I’d be doing for the rest of my life.
At this rate I’d have to wait a whole other year to even think about auditioning for Juilliard again. The thought of my life being put on hold longer than it already had been only served to make me even angrier.
Dad would just bribe the judges to make sure I didn’t get in. Then he’d secure offers from every Ivy League school’s business program, making sure that was my only option.
I sat up and looked over at the motel phone sitting on the nightstand. I frowned, wondering if calling my father was even the smart thing to do—but I couldn’t see any other option—I was too angry at Crush to even consider waiting for him to get back, and I didn’t trust the man he’d set to guard me no matter how much that asshole vouched for him. How could I trust Crush, let alone one of his friends?
I sighed and reached for the receiver, looking down at it apprehensively for a moment before dialing my father’s number. With every digit, I felt a twinge of something that felt like anger or frustration. I wanted to get by without him, but he proved time and time again that he’d never let that happen—and now I was crawling back to him just like he swore I would.
I put the speaker to my ear, closing my eyes as the phone began to ring. I knew I could hang up at any time, pretend it was a wrong number, but with everything that had happened, with Crush, the other motel, the penthouse, I wasn’t sure I would be any safer away from my father than I would be by his side, and right now I was more comfortable being with the liar I knew than Crush.
Someone picked up on the other end. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and my dreams, and my pride.
“Daddy?”
20
Crush
I couldn’t help but notice just how often I’d wound up driving through Las Vegas in the dead of night. Maybe it was because I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see the sight of the Strip in anything except pictures and movies.
I reveled in the solitude out here. On the highway, I was free to travel with only my thoughts for company. I was alone for the first time in the last few days, and somewhere deep down, I wasn’t sure I was relieved by that.
As the blacktop sped by beneath my wheels, my thoughts returned to the girl I’d left behind with Teddy. Chrissy had been so angry when I’d left, and I couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know what was happening—I’d made damn sure to keep her in the dark, and that alone made me feel as though the two of us could never work. You can’t have secrets in a relationship—at least, not this kind.
I didn’t know how long I had before Caputo would return, or if he even would be back before the morning. All I knew was that I needed to put this folder in Falcone’s hands.
Before I knew it, I was standing outside of the gate to Don Falcone’s compound, two guards stepping out from the gate and taking up intimidating postures.
I got off of my bike, my hands held up to show that I wasn’t armed—I’d lost my gun the last time Chrissy and I had to make a run for it. I could still feel the faint twinge of where those fed assholes had shoved that needle right into my neck.
“I need to talk with Don Falcone,” I said, holding up the manila folder, “I have something he needs to see.”
I was patted down and taken through the gate, where I was patted down once more before being deposited into the same study I’d spoken with the mafia don the last time we’d met.
Tonight, though, the study was not as warm and inviting as it had been the first time I was here. The fir
e was not lit. There was no liquor. Instead, the study was cold, silent, and lit only by a small table lamp one of the guards had turned on while I waited.
My mouth felt dry as I sat in one of Don Falcone’s armchairs close to the fire, the file in my hands growing heavier and heavier the weight of its contents settled against me.
I couldn’t help but wonder how all of this would go, but had to remind myself that wondering only did two things: wasted time and set you up for disappointment. Better to not expect anything at all than to be disappointed that things didn’t go my way.
Prepare for the worst, hope for nothing. Hell of a way to live, but at least it kept me living. Yet another reason Chrissy should stay the fuck away from me.
I heard the sounds of distant voices approaching and turned my head just in time to watch Falcone enter the room, pushing the doors to his study open so hard that they slammed against the walls. I could already tell he wasn’t happy that he’d been woken up so late, or that I was here at all.
“Where’s my daughter?” he growled, marching up to me as I stood from the chair. “What the hell are you doing here without my little girl?”
“Chrissy’s safe,” I said, holding my ground. “She’s at the Mojave Arms motel. She’s not alone. I made sure there was someone watching her.”
“Someone?” Falcone asked, narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward. “Someone who? Not someone I know. Last time I checked, you were supposed to be the schmuck who was protecting my little girl, not someone else!”
“I didn’t think that this could wait,” I said, holding up the folder. “Not with what’s at stake.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, glancing at the file out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that?”
“You said you wanted proof,” I said, waving my prize. “So now I have proof.”
The crime lord reached out and took the file, his lip curled as he stared at the outside of it for a moment before walking slowly around me. He sat down in one of the chairs, turning on another table lamp as he opened the file.
You could have heard a pin drop for all the silence that filled that room, save for the turning of pages and photos as Falcone pored over everything I’d brought him. I watched his face with rapt attention, but his expression was a mask of annoyance that only seemed to solidify with every new piece of evidence he consumed.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice dangerously cool as he slowly closed the manila folder. He never took his gaze from it, but the way he clutched the arm of his chair told me that he was not at all pleased.
“We were—”
“Who gave this to you?!” Falcone screamed, standing up in one swift motion. Before I could even blink he was in front of me, grabbing at the front of my shirt.
“The CIA,” I said quickly, our eyes level, his nose less than an inch from my own. “They found me after Chrissy and I were attacked at the motel. They told me that Caputo—”
“The fucking CIA! And why would I trust them?” he asked, pushing me back hard as he released my shirt. I could feel my throat and neck prickling with heat. I wanted to slug him. “Why, huh? Why would I take their word over that of my most trusted friend? The man who’s been a brother to me since I was still shitting my pants in my crib.
“You think that I’ll just believe them because of—what? Because you shove some fucking pictures in my face?” Falcone threw the folder onto the floor, the photos of Caputo meeting with Sergei scattering at my feet. “You don’t just get to come in here and accuse him of that—after you betray me with those rat-shit fucks in their little van they got parked outside of my house every day.”
Falcone began to pace like a big cat in its cage, his nostrils flared as his eyes darted between me, the folder, and the fireplace. His fingers flexed, and I wondered if he’d try to grab for me again.
If he did, I might not be able to stop myself from beating his ass. Sure, it’d get me shot, but I’d had enough of the whipping boy act.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said. “They told me—”
“They can say whatever the fuck they want!” he roared. “Don’t you get it? Christ, you’re a fucking biker. A goddamn one-percenter. You should fucking know better!”
“Hey—you wanted proof!” I reminded him, taking a step forward, closing the gap between us. “You wanted evidence, and when I bring it to you, you still don’t believe me. I’m trying to protect your daughter—”
“You’re trying to protect your fucking wallet, you little shit,” he snarled, whipping around to face me. “I know exactly why you’re doing this. Don’t you dare pretend it’s for anything except yourself and those fucking thugs in your bullshit club. If there’s one thing I can’t stand more than a fucking rat, it’s a liar.”
“And yet you can’t see the one that’s been under your nose the whole time?” I hissed, getting into Falcone’s face once again. “That son of a bitch has been wanting you out of the picture for years, and you’re too much of a stubborn goddamn idiot to realize it. You’d endanger your empire and your daughter just to uphold the illusion that you couldn’t possibly be wrong. You never wanted proof—you just wanted to keep believing the lie that made you infallible, instead of the sorry-ass old man about to be taken down from within!”
Falcone’s eyes widened for a moment, honest-to-God shock spreading across his features before it was once more replaced by impotent rage.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he growled, shoving me squarely in the chest, making me stagger back. “And while you’re at it, you’d best get the fuck out of my goddamn town.”
I shook my head at him. “If she dies—”
“Don’t you fucking finish that sentence. Get out,” he ordered, and a moment later, two guards moved in to grab me. There was no fighting my way out of this, and nothing I could do unarmed. “And I swear to God, if I ever see that smug fucking face of yours again—or any of your scumbag brothers—I will have you skinned alive.”
The two guards marched me back out of the compound, Falcone following the entire way.
“Nobody comes into my house and starts questioning my men,” he shouted, and I wondered whether it was me or himself he was talking to. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you think for a second…”
“All I was trying to do with show you the truth,” I said as I was pushed out of the front gate. “I didn’t want Chrissy to have to run anymore. I didn’t want her to be afraid that someone was coming to get her… but you can’t even put this bullshit aside to think of her for even one minute, can you?”
“Don’t you talk about my daughter that way,” he snarled. “And if I ever see you with her, you’re a goddamn dead man, do you hear me?”
The gate slowly began to shut, Don Falcone’s eyes never once leaving mine until he was blocked from my view and I was left alone, outside of the walls of his fortress with nothing but my bike and the silent night.
Well, that could have gone better, I thought as I got back onto my motorcycle. Hell, who am I kidding? That was a fucking disaster.
I wasn’t entirely sure where the hell I was going to go, but I was going to have to bunk down somewhere for the night. There was a small chapter of the Hounds over in Reno where Teddy had been visiting his family, but other than that, my only options were some more shitty motels. In the morning, I was going to need to head back to report back to the rest of the club just how badly I’d screwed up.
I watched as the first rays of dawn began to spill over the Vegas skyline, and I wondered if Chrissy would be waking up by now or if she’d even gone back to sleep after the way I left. The thought of her crying made my stomach tighten, and despite how much I tried to, I couldn’t shake the sensation.
Just business, I tried to remind myself as I drove back into the outskirts of the city, looking for a place to crash for the night. But the longer I was alone with my thoughts, the more and more I thought of Chrissy.
Too bad none of the
bars were open this early, or stayed open this late. Drinking was probably the only way I was going to get through the rest of the night without thinking of Chrissy, worrying that that stubborn ass of a father of hers would get her killed by refusing to wake up and smell the coffee. Caputo was going to ruin him, and he wasn’t afraid to kill an innocent girl in order to do it… and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
21
Chrissy
I heard cars pulling up outside, their tires crunching the gravel beneath them as they came to a halt. I felt like I was that girl at a slumber party who had to call her daddy to come and get her—only at this party, I was in danger of being shot by a bunch of criminals.
I had been wondering whether or not I made the right choice ever since I hung up the phone with my father almost an hour ago. From what little he’d said, Crush had already been there and gone, and the fact that he hadn’t returned made me both angry and frightened of what might have happened to him.
Heavy footfalls were approaching the door, and I could tell that my father must have brought more than a few men with him as backup.
“You,” he barked, apparently addressing the member of the Hounds of Hell that Crush had let outside the room. “Leave. And if I see anyone from your little club in my city ever again, you’re going to have a hell of a lot of problems.”
The biker said something, though I could barely hear him, his voice was so low. Another minute went by, after which I heard the rumble of a motorcycle engine coming to life before it faded into the distance.
“Check the place out,” I heard my father say to one of his men. “I don’t want any surprises.”
There was another pause as more footsteps scattered in different directions. I figured that my father might bring a few people with him, but from the sound of it, he’d brought a small army, all of them scoping out the rest of the motel in case there was anyone waiting to get a clear shot at me.
