Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“If I told you the police had caught him, you could’ve checked.”
“But why?” I snap. “I could’ve taken the truth.”
“You were a child.”
“You’ve kept up this lie for years, Dad. Not just when I was little. Even then, you could’ve told me somehow. A bad man hurt Mom. Another man got rid of the bad man.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Dad snaps, slamming his hand on the table. “You don’t think there’s a problem that Blake murdered somebody?”
“No,” I say fiercely, completely meaning it. “That man, Francesco…” I force myself to say his name.
“He did the worst things to Mom. He killed her brutally and for nothing. Because he thought he had a right to do whatever he wanted. Blake told me the police were corrupt. There would never be any justice—”
“Your mother made me promise.”
Dad’s voice rises, and he stands, pacing up and down in the garden.
“She made me promise to never be a part of that life.”
“Did you tell Blake this?”
“He already knew. He was there when I made the goddamn promise.”
“So, it was a choice between keeping the promise and letting the psycho go free and hurt more people… or taking him out.”
“Taking him out,” Dad repeats. “You’re not supposed to know any of this. About his real job. About this world. Any of it.”
“You kind of put me in a tough spot by getting kidnapped.”
There it is, not an outright lie, but not the truth, either. It’s enough to let Dad assume I learned the truth about Blake when Enzo kidnapped Dad. I don’t need to share about the steaminess initially, the tingling all over my body, and the sparking light in my heart.
“Imagine if that man was still alive,” I say. “After what he did to Mom… Imagine, Dad, just think about it. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Dad replies, walking over to me and kneeling beside my chair, taking both my hands, and looking at me with so much emotion I could cry. “I only ever wanted to protect you from this life, from the darkness of the world.”
I say nothing, and then Dad cries, big drowning sobs that tug at the daughter in me. I hold his hands tightly, whispering, “It’s okay, Dad. I understand. I know why you did it, but I would have preferred the truth.”
“The truth is, I’m a hypocrite,” he whimpers. “I say I want to protect you, so what do I do? I gamble. I force you to be the grownup. I get kidnapped. I force you to work for a criminal.”
“I like working for Blake,” I say.
“You do?” Dad asks.
“He’s a good man.”
Dad laughs through his tears, staring up at me. “How can you know that?”
Panic strikes me again. We’re getting too close to the truth, and I can’t even think about that now. I can’t imagine explaining to Dad that I want—need—his old best friend. He’s Mom’s friend too, the man who avenged her. It’ll be too much for him after the kidnapping. Or is that an excuse?
Instead—shamefully—I gesture to Archie, running up and down the garden. “Just look at that little guy.”
“What about him?”
Dad sniffles as he rubs his cheek.
“I’ve seen Blake with him. I’ve seen his kindness. He’s not some scary mob boss. He’s just a man trying to do the right thing.”
“This is all so insane,” Dad says, “but at least we’re safe. At least we’re together. I’m so sorry, Bonnie. For lying. For gambling. For not being the dad you deserve.”
“You are the dad I deserve,” I tell him fiercely. “You’re the most loving man I know. The fact you’re still so heartbroken over Mom’s death is proof of that.”
He smiles shakily, clasping both my hands. I wish this moment could be pure and untouched by any creeping thoughts of the future. Of telling Dad the whole truth. What if he tells me I have to stop, that I can’t be with Blake?
“I’m going to lie down in the spare room,” Dad says. “All of this…”
“It’s a lot,” I murmur. “I understand.”
“And you don’t hate me?”
“Dad, I could never hate you.”
Dad leans up, kissing my forehead softly. “When Blake’s done, tell him to come and see me.”
With that ominous note, he leaves me to wonder just what he’s going to say.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blake
“I couldn’t let him threaten you,” I say from the garden door.
My woman flinches, turning from her art set and looking up at me. Her hair is down, spilling beautifully to her shoulders, her cheeks so full of life.
Maybe it’s the fight, the thought of losing her, but my need is fiercer than ever. This should be a time of pure emotion, but I can’t tame the animal within. I can’t stop my balls from expanding and my shaft from going solid, as if we’ve just survived a disaster and now is the time to create our child and secure our future.