Ending things with him, disappearing to wherever Frank Locati has decided, staying under the radar and hidden is enough of a distraction to make Bronson lose focus. I hate aiding my father, and even though I’m losing Bronson, he will still draw a breath. He will get over it, learn to hate me and move on. He will give some woman beautiful babies . . . I have to stop this train of thought. I can only focus on one moment at a time. And the entire time praying my father pays dearly for his crimes. Secretly hoping eventually it will be Bronson that brings him down.
I stare at the window as Bronson is dragged off the property, openly sobbing, shouting my name, and before I break the door slams. “We leave in five minutes.”
“Where?”
“Blue Mountain, Mississippi. You will have a new identity, attend college, and make a life for yourself. Away from here. Don’t return or you know the price everyone you love will pay.” What I learned later that day, to ensure my cooperation and Bronson’s distraction, Luis was pronounced dead. He had woken, memory intact but was still dependent on the ventilator. My father had it shut off, all while I watched from a closed circuit monitor as he gasped, and clawed at his throat. His eyes wide in terror. He was all alone, and my father laughed as I cried watching another man suffer at his hands.
I wake up with sweat drenching my hair, making it stick to my forehead, and my shirt cling to my torso. Every night, even after a year of that horrible scene, it replays in my nightmare. It doesn’t get any easier, and I used to skip sleep to just keep the memory at bay. I can’t do that anymore, too many responsibilities now. I was lucky enough to get a position at the local Elementary school as an aide. Being a small town, there isn’t much opportunity for new teachers, but I don’t need to work. I hate taking the money from my father, but I have no choice. He has me in a awkward position and he knows it. He won’t chance coming here, and each time he made demands of me, I’ve refused.
Sending his cronies here didn’t scare me. They couldn’t lay a finger on me, but that isn’t why they were here. There was one thing I had that my father coveted and he would never get it. My body could be dead and cold and I would make sure from the grave he didn’t succeed. I made my own plan, just in case, one he had no clue about. If anything happened to me, a letter would be delivered to Dakota. I had to think outside of the box because he would expect me to reach out to the Agostos.
I’ve talked to Dakota once; it wasn’t pretty for me. At the end of the conversation, I think I got through to him.
“He’s worthless, Callie. He is about to ruin the career he was beginning to build and it’s all because of you.” I was very well aware of what I had done; I experienced it every day.
“Fine, Dakota. It’s established I’m the worst person in the world. You won’t get any arguments from me. Listen to me; don’t let him lose focus. Stay on top of him, remind him of what Frank Locati has taken away from him, fuel his anger, but don’t let him wallow in it.”
“You sound like you care?” His sarcastic tone doesn’t fall on deaf ears. He’s made his feelings for me well known in this five-minute conversation.
“Damn it, Dakota. I care. You know I do. Just keep him safe. I can’t tell you anything, and I don’t have a way to reach you anymore. This is a ploy of my father’s. He needed a distraction, and he got one with me. Fucking fight for him, with him. Don’t let him give up now.” I wish it was Bronson’s voice on the other end of the phone, but I know even after four months, I’m too weak. Too vulnerable. If I heard his voice, I’d crack.
“What’s really going on, Callie? Why did you walk away so easily?”
“Easily? You think this is fucking easy? It’s agony, Dakota. Every day to get out of bed, I don’t want to. But, I have to. I don’t have a choice.”
“How did you work this out with your dad?”
“Frank,” I correct him. “I had a maneuver he wasn’t expecting and that’s all I can tell you.”
“So, you’re saying you did this for him?”
“For all of them, yes, but mostly him. Frank has reach, and he had pictures of him, and I know at any of those times he could have killed Bronson. Just do what you have to.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now. As long as I don’t lose my bargaining tool, I’m golden.”
“What?”
“If anything happens to me, you’ll be the only one to know. I need you to make sure to keep it safe. I have to go.”
Nine long months had passed since that one phone call. I haven’t heard anything from my past life since then, but I’ll survive, protecting my secret weapon with my life. I threw myself into my last year of school, doubling up on courses the first six months. I was no longer Callie Locati; to the locals I was Caroline Lertz, a transfer student with a sordid past. I got many stares and no new friends at the tiny Blue Mountain College.
I yearned for Bronson, experiencing so many new things daily, I wanted to share this part of my life with him like I had done every day for as long as I could remember. I missed Bianca’s smile and the way she always made me laugh. I didn’t have much laughter in my life now, but I had to be strong. Not just for me.
As I leave for work today, the first thing I notice is the car parked in my driveway. I know immediately it has been sent from him. Immediately, I shift into protective mode, one that has become very familiar to me the last three months. Each time it’s a different man from the many my father employs. Not once has it been anyone associated with the old family, each time I found myself wishing it were, and that they still had a sense of loyalty and would tell Bronson where I was. Then I get mad at myself knowing what danger that would put him in.
He’s a special agent. He should be able to find me on his own, but I also know the provisions my father took to ensure my anonymity here. I know one day I will face him again, I just hope it’s without the hatred he harbors for me now. I hate myself enough for both of us. The day I went to my father’s, the day I demolished our relationship, it was done out of fear, gut reaction. I should have gone to Bronson, showed him what the envelope held, and we could have made a decision together. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty and I let a lot of people down that day, but most of all, myself.
The car door opens, and I’m shocked to see it is the man himself. “Surprised to see me?” Fucking asshole. He knows I am, and he can read my unease; it pleases him because he gives me his intimidating smile.
Stepping backwards, distancing myself from him and the danger he represents, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“Is that the greeting your father deserves?”
“Sorry, fresh out of ammunition, and you know I abhor violence,” I wish I could watch my tongue around him, he hates it, and right now I can’t afford to anger him.
Surprisingly, he chuckles. Tossing an envelope at my feet, he says, “Here. This may change some of the animosity you feel towards me. Until next time, daughter.” He doesn’t make a move to leave, we’re at a standoff in my driveway, and no way will I take my eyes off him long enough to pick up what is lying at my feet. He breaks the stance first and before climbing back into the car, he shoots his parting message. “Maybe next time some of the hostility will have died down once you see what I brought you.” His warning loud and clear . . . he would come back, not his men. Watching his car disappear, I bend and pick up his gift, hurriedly open the door, and throw it on the ledge. I’m late and still have to make a stop before school.
The same tasks await me, setting up desks, making sure the children don’t kill each other, grading papers, and if I wasn’t so lost, trying to keep my head above water I would have enjoyed it all. It was my dream after all, but the thing about dreams is, no matter how many you achieve they aren’t worth anything if the person you envisioned by your side is no longer there. I had many accomplishments in my life, but the one I was still the most proud of was the love I had created with Bronson. The family. The security, the eternity I had hoped and dreamed about. They were all intertwined in my heart and
my mind. So only having one or two parts of them didn’t give me the same feeling of fulfillment.
Rob, the physical education teacher comes into the lounge as I’m throwing away the lunch I didn’t eat. He’s nice enough and has shown interest, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know that I will be for a long time, if ever. “Hey Carrie,” that nickname grates on my nerves … too close to my real name.
“Caroline,” I remind him.
“I thought we were at least on terms of casual names. You don’t call me Robert.” He winks. Another thing that drives me nuts. That’s not fair, no man will ever measure up to Bronson, and it’s unfair to pick apart everything about Rob.
“I can if you’d like,” I try to smile, to show him I’m not really a bitch and only teasing, even though I’m not and, honestly, I am a bitch now.
“Do you have plans for the weekend?” I look at him, wondering if he just asked me that. “Let me rephrase that, I know you have things to do this weekend, just like every weekend when I ask that question . . . Do you think we could get together for dinner or something?”
“Let me see what I can work out, I’ll let you know tomorrow,” knowing I have no intention of following through with that. Tomorrow, I will just tell him the same thing I always do; it just won’t work.
Dragging my tired ass up the stairs, knowing I have about five more hours before my day ends; I drop my bag inside the door and catch sight of my father’s delivery. Sighing, I decide it will have to wait for a few hours. Going through my nightly routine, prepping for tomorrow, I finally get around to opening it. Score one for Frank Locati; he shoved the dagger in my heart deeper than he did a year ago. She’s beautiful . . . everything about her is opposite of me. Long blonde hair, tan skin, tall. He looks . . . happy. I stare into his gray eyes, wishing it were in person and not through a photo. His smile spreads across his face, his olive complexion sporting a beautiful tan, and if possible he looks more built. I’m sure he spent a lot of time at the gym when I left, working out his aggression and frustration. It certainly paid off. I should feel joy that he seems at peace, whole, and moving on; but I’m petty, and all I feel is remorse, pain, sadness, and utter hatred for the bitch holding his hand and smiling next to him. Picture after picture my loathing and longing increase until I can’t take it anymore.
The point Frank wanted to prove: He won. He won because he is still running drugs, rolling in the money because I helped him grow his empire by hurting this gorgeous man. While he lives the high life, I have nothing. Well, almost nothing . . .
Chapter 19
Last night was brutal. I was physically ill and felt as if my heart would be expelled with the vomiting I did. Pain inflicted on my soul took over my entire body. I fell asleep listening to ‘Girl Crush’ by Little Big Town, allowing myself one night of pity; soul-consuming, full-blown, cry fest. I even tortured myself by pulling out pictures of my happy times with Bronson, stupidly comparing his smile in those to the ones that were delivered yesterday. Did his eyes seem to dance with her like they did me? Was that the look of love he wore when looking at her? Then the pictures of Bianca, I sobbed more, begging and pleading with the silence to just feel her arms around me. Would she ever forgive me? Does she have another best friend? Is this girl filling my place in her life, too?
What did I expect? While what I did was one of the most unselfish things I could, I am drowning in hatred. I visually see my father bleeding and dying before my eyes, with me standing over him. I see the blood on my hands and know I would wear it proudly. I don’t like the person I’m becoming and wish it would all end. Even if he has moved on, happy with someone else, I just want to go home. Loving him from afar is enough for me, but being completely isolated is torture. I wracked my brain all night wondering if there was something I knew, something I had brushed off as unimportant, anything I could give to the authorities to take him down.
I called off of work today, not ready to face people. Searching the Internet for anything in my father’s name, I came up with nothing. Of course he isn’t that stupid. Then I remembered. A name. One nobody else would know. I immediately typed in the name into the county records and bingo. He would be keeping his known warehouses clean from Bronson but not this one. I clear all my search history, I’d have to wait until Monday and use the schools phone to deliver this to Dakota as I’m sure mine are wired or I’m always watched. I decide to get out today, spend the day in the sun at the park. Maybe if I surround myself with happiness some will seep in because I wasn’t just hurting myself. Allowing myself one more glance of Bronson, stupidly it’s the picture taken on the day he asked me to marry him, I pack up all the gear I’ll need for the day and head out.
Monday morning I place a call to Dakota. Thank God in a year he hasn’t changed his number.
“It’s me. Search the tax records for Christopher Howard.”
“What’s this?”
“That’s what my name would have been if I was a boy.” I hang up. Checkmate to me.
My father appears the next week at my door. He isn’t welcome inside and he knows it. I stand outside on the porch. “Callie, when are we going to come to a truce? Eventually you know I will get tired of waiting for what I want.”
“Never, Frank. What you’re after is off limits and always will be.” His sinister smile doesn’t scare me.
“Do you not need my money for support anymore?”
“I’ve got a job. I can make do.” I know there is no way I can survive on what I make. He knows it too, but he won’t cut me off. Not yet.
“Stubborn girl.” His phone cuts him off before he can say more. His eyes bore into mine as he listens to the conversation on the other end. Without a word he walks off my porch, but before leaving his gaze meets mine again. I want to say I see regret, failure, and maybe even remorse pass in them; but really all I see is fear. I smile as he climbs in the car and I hope it will be the last time I see him breathing again. He isn’t one that will go out quietly, so if my research manifested anything, he will die, because he is stupid and greedy.
Chapter 20
Six months passed from the day my dad left my porch until the phone call I had prayed for came. The DEA raided his warehouse the evening before, and Frank Locati died. The agent had assumed he was reaching for a gun, but instead he was reaching for a picture. How ironic, I knew what that picture was and the same way I used it against him, he was going to use it against the agent who killed him, Bronson Agosto.
A lot has changed in the months since I purged the past from my system. To say I’m nervous to go home is an understatement. Even when you have craved something like I have, you still question what you will be walking into. My mother, bless her heart, is tucked away in rehab and when she gets out I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t kill herself with drugs and booze. I would like to think it was my father who made her the way she is, but I’m her child, that should trump all.
I make the arrangements to go home. I have nothing here, the school won’t miss me, but I do let them know I won’t be back. In a mere fourteen hours I will be driving through the town of Indian Shores. It’s only been eighteen months, but for all that has transpired in that time it could be eighteen lifetimes.
I pick up my phone, and dial a number so familiar to me. It used to be my lifeline.
“Hello.”
“Binks.” Hearing her voice opens the floodgates.
“Callie,” she is struggling around her own tears.
“It’s me.”
“Oh my God.” I know. I don’t know what to say either.
“I’m coming home.”
“When?”
“I’ll be there within the next day.”
“Is it because of your dad? Are you safe?”
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”
“Okay—” she pauses.
“It’s okay. I know he moved on.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Well, I have someone I want you to meet.”
&nbs
p; “Who?”
“Angelo. You will absolutely love him.” The silence seems to linger between us. “Binks?”
“Do you love him?” she asks.
“I do,” I tell her honestly.
“Shit,” I smile at her candidness. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies. I just want my sister back.”
“Hopefully you will get her. I’m not the same person.”
“Yes you are. You’re my Callie.” If it could only be that simple. The past months were hell, and I barely survived. But I became a better person for Angelo. He deserved the best of me and I was all he had. When I couldn’t find a reason to smile, to keep going on, he gave me the motivation. I just hope he is received well back home. I know it won’t be easy to reestablish the family I lost when I made the choice to keep them safe, but I do hope it’s a battle I have a fighting chance to win.
Bronson
Chapter 21
“Get up, Bronson. Sober the fuck up and help me on this case.”
The light he has turned on is burning my eyes; they’re so dry, probably from the liquor dehydrating my body. “Fuck you, Dakota.”
“No, fuck Locati. You gonna let him win? Everything he took from you, including your girl, this is how you’re going to go down?” Ouch. Right for the jugular.
Sitting up I level him with a glare, warning him to back off. “He didn’t take my girl, she left. Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work. What’s the point . . . justice? What a fucking joke that is.”
“Really? You know that for a fact? What if there’s some chance bringing him down can bring her back?”
Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) Page 13