“I’m glad you’re here for them,” Evie said, watching the little recital hall melt away in the rearview mirror.
“I have a feeling no matter what I’ll end up looking like an asshole in this. It’s just how it works. But as long as I take him down with me, it’s worth it.”
Chapter 22
“Maybe he took off,” Evie suggested. “Maybe he decided not to ask your sister for money and instead hit the road.” They’d gone directly to the bar his father had mentioned when they left the recital hall because Emmitt hadn’t wanted to miss him going in. But there had been no sign of him.
“I’m going inside,” Emmitt said, swinging his door open with the full force of his shoulder and marching toward the bar. The bastard probably slipped in the back door. Evie was on his heels before he could tell her to stay where she was. “You can’t come in here.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said firmly as he spun his body in her path.
“That’s absolutely incorrect. There are about a hundred ways I can stop you. I have no clue what’s going on inside this shitty bar, but I do know if my father is desperate, it’s bad. The last thing I need is you in there.”
“I’m coming,” she said, folding her arms defiantly over her chest. “You’re right; if you wanted to you could stop me but you shouldn’t. Whether you want to admit it or not I’m good for you. Mathew told me to get on that plane because I could help you. So let me. Don’t go in there and start a fight or blow up. Stay calm, and together we’ll figure out the right solution.”
Emmitt checked his watch, and though he completely disagreed with Evie’s argument, he was worried his father would slip away if he didn’t act soon. “Just stay close and don’t say anything.”
They entered the dimly lit bar room that was flooded with smoke and the smell of stale beer. The floor was sticky, the walls covered in women’s underwear, and pictures of guys holding up fish they’d caught.
“Nice place,” she whispered as she moved a couple inches closer to him. Every eye in the room spun toward them. They didn’t have slicked back hair or too much cologne on so they looked, and smelled, completely out of place.
“We’re closed,” the bartender said brashly, never looking up.
“You don’t look closed,” Emmitt bit back, sizing up everyone in the place. “We’re not here for a drink anyway.”
“We’re closed. Private party,” the stocky bald bartender said as he tossed his rag down on the bar and flexed his muscles threateningly. With his chin he gestured back toward the door they’d just come in.
“Where’s the game?” Emmitt asked, not paying the slightest attention to the puffing chest of the bartender. He’d already scanned the room and could see his father wasn’t one of the sloppy patrons slouched over in the dirty stools. Wherever the gambling went on it wasn’t out there. “I’m looking for someone, and he’s in the game.”
“No clue what you’re talking about, but you’ve got about ten seconds to get the hell out of here before I bust out my bat. And maybe your girl stays here with us. She’s hot as hell.”
Emmitt grabbed a half full bottle of beer straight out of a guy’s hand and flung it at the wall behind the bartender who ducked. It smashed and rained down like sharp confetti.
“You have any fucking idea whose bar this is?” the man he’d just swiped the beer from asked frantically. “This is Marc Azeela’s place. You’d better run while you still have both your knee caps.”
Emmitt cursed himself for letting his anger at his father trump his normal mode of recon. Never would he just march in somewhere without knowing more about who might be on the other side of the door. But emotions make people sloppy. The point he was always trying to make.
This establishment and the gambling ring in the back of it was owned by a solider in one of the last standing Italian American mafia families in Boston. He was well on his way to becoming a captain and known for his ruthless techniques for collecting debts. His father wasn’t dodging some lowlife loan shark with a heavy hand; he was mixed up with the mafia now. Murderers.
“Who was it you’re looking for?” a man, standing three inches taller than Emmitt asked, as he blocked the door. Emmitt tucked Evie behind him and readied himself for a fight. This wasn’t going to be his original plan, pummel people until they talk, but now it was clearing a path toward the door. Getting her out safely.
“I must have stumbled into the wrong place,” Emmitt said smugly. “My mistake.”
“You did,” the man said, his wide smile making the scar on his cheek more prominent. “But now you can’t stumble out until you tell me who you’re looking for. I’m sure if you won’t, she will.”
Emmitt had been careless. He broke rule number one: know your enemy. And rule number two: have nothing they can use against you. Evie was certainly a weak spot for him. He was outnumbered and likely out gunned. “Let her go outside, and I’ll tell you.”
“If I let her go outside you won’t be quite so worried about taking us on. With her in the way you’re not going to do anything stupid.” The man clearly knew what it meant to be in a standoff. He rolled a toothpick between his lips as he spoke and narrowed his eyes challengingly.
“Promise we can leave if I tell you?” Evie asked, a hitch in her voice that both broke Emmitt’s heart and worried the hell out of him. When describing Evie to someone, the words nerves of steel would never come up.
“Promise,” the hulking man said, making a little cross over his heart.
“Evie,” Emmitt said, glaring down at her. There were no promises in this type of situation.
“My mother is on pills,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “I gave her money for rehab, but I think she was going to try to make more by gambling. I tracked her phone close to here, and I thought I heard her say the name of this bar before. I’m not looking for any trouble. I just want to know my mother’s all right. Can you tell me if she’s here, please?” Evie closed the gap between herself and the giant before Emmitt could reach out and snap her back. “I just want to help her.”
“She’s not here,” the man said, his face falling serious. “No women gamble here.” He stepped away from the door and moved back behind the bar.
“Thank you,” Evie said earnestly. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“Go,” he barked, looking like he could change his mind any second. “Don’t show your face here. Don’t come back.”
Emmitt and Evie were out the door and jogging to the car before either could speak.
“You should have let me handle it,” Emmitt grumbled as they fell into the car, and he started the engine. “That was not smart.”
“You had it so well under control,” she protested sarcastically. “I don’t know what was going on, but it was clear we needed to get out of there. And if you thought you were going to fight our way out, I’ll be honest, I didn’t like our odds.”
“This all ends now,” Emmitt said, pressing down hard on the accelerator. “I’m telling my mother what’s going on and adding security to her house. My sister isn’t having any more contact with him. Marc Azeela is mafia. They’ll have no problem collecting that money from my father by any means necessary, and I’m not having my family caught in the crossfire.”
“And your father?” Evie asked with a judgmental tone that grated on him. Those giant blue eyes were staring at him penetratingly, and he couldn’t take it. She knew nothing of the world. She knew nothing of what it meant to deal with these kinds of people.
“What about him?” Emmitt asked frigidly, matching her presumptive tone.
“What will they do to him if he doesn’t have the money to pay?” Evie was not just asking a question. She was tossing critical barbs at him. Something he didn’t need right now.
“Are you really that naïve or are you driving at something? Let’s not beat around the bush. I don’t have time for bullshit.” He sped recklessly around the dark curve of the road leading to his mother’s house, and Evie’s gr
ip on the door frame grew tighter.
“You’re the one who said how desperate he was and how bad these guys are. What if they hurt him?”
“They’ll kill him,” Emmitt said, not glancing over to see her reaction. “If he’s here willing to deal with me, he owes them a small fortune. And I’m sure he’s far past due. These guys won’t think twice about putting a bullet between his eyes.”
“And?” she asked, turning her whole body in the seat to face him.
“Not sure what they’d do with him after,” he shrugged, knowing it would anger her. “I’m sure they have a favorite spot to get rid of bodies.”
“Are you joking right now? I can’t tell if you’re deflecting with humor or if you actually don’t care.”
“Then let me clear that up. I actually don’t care.” He raised his brows challengingly at her, daring her to call him out. Emmitt knew Evie couldn’t stand by and let such a terrible thing happen even if in reality there was the only option. The greater good.
“You don’t care if your father gets killed?” she asked, emphasizing the last word for effect.
“He hasn’t been part of my life in almost ten years. He’s a tornado. You don’t mourn a tornado; you celebrate the sun when it comes out.”
“You think my mother hasn’t hurt me? The things she’s done to my family would seem unforgivable, but I’d still do anything to keep her alive, to try to help her.”
“Is that why you’re hiding in Boston?” As the words launched from his mouth Emmitt was already aware they were the emotional equivalent of a kill shot. The line people are always telling him not to cross never seemed to slow him down. He jumped over it like a runner breaking the tape at the end of a race.
“You didn’t mean that,” Evie tried, hoping he’d take the out she was offering. But if there was anything he inherited from his father it was the unfortunate decision to double down on something rather than smartening up and walking away while he was ahead.
“I’m only sorry you can’t see your mother is never going to change. You can keep holding out hope if you want to, at the cost of your own sanity and your family’s happiness. But I’m not that weak. I grew out of that delusion years ago. Whatever you do next, however you figure your shit out to help your mother, it will be wasted time and money. My father will never push himself away from the blackjack table long enough to give a shit about me or anyone else. Your mother will never stop searching for pills, her next fix, long enough to look up and even notice you aren’t there. Stop being so naïve.”
“Asshole,” Evie said through angry tears. “No matter how you spin it or how you hide it, that’s all you are. And it’s all you are ever going to be. If you are willing to turn your back on your own father, knowing he’d be killed, when you have the power to stop it, then you are a monster. Forget what he is to you, forget how much he hurt you. Think about your sister. She wants more from him. Harlan is holding out hope that there is still something inside her father worth saving. She’s holding out hope that you’re the kind of man who can save him.”
“I never tried to hide who I am, and I never tried to spin it. I told you flat-out who you were dealing with. And whatever power you think I have to save my father is just another delusion of yours. He’s the only one who could save himself, and he’s chosen not to. It’s a choice. We all have choices to make. He chooses a casino instead of his family, and he does it again and again.”
“You’re right, we all have choices to make. You just made a very easy choice for me,” she said coldly as they skid to a stop in his mother’s driveway. “Maybe I don’t have another plan for helping my mother, but I’m not going to stop until I do. She’s given up on herself already; that’s not a reason for me to do the same. It’s more of a reason for me to keep fighting for her because she can’t fight for herself right now.”
“For Christ’s sake Evie, they’re drowning. Every day they get a little lower in the water. We’re not life preservers—they’re anchors. You can either get dragged to the bottom with them or cut yourself free. You can’t work harder on their problems than they do. That’s fucked up.” He slammed the car into park and turned to face her. “See where all that work gets you, because it won’t get you back your mother.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Evie huffed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, looking determined to get her shit together as quickly as possible. “But when I get to the end of my life or hers, at least I’ll know I did everything I could. Because the mother I knew before the addiction would have done the same for me. I believe she doesn’t want to do this anymore. I believe if she had the power she’d stop. Don’t you believe the same of your father?”
“What do you want from me here, Evie? I’m not going to help my father. I’m not going to play into his shit. If I bail him out now and give him the money he owes, he’ll just know how to play it next time. He’ll know where to come, and he’ll keep going until he gets killed by a loan shark, the mafia, or me when I get sick of him. Not to mention the risk this can cause the rest of the family. Don’t you think they know how much money my mother has? He’d have told them all about it by now, and that puts her in danger when he defaults.”
“You are so screwed up,” she said, pushing the car door open. “I’m not staying here. You’re just going to barge in there and tell your mother your father is in town and she might be in danger? You’re not going to think twice about how that makes her feel. Or what that will do to her. Your sister, you’ll just demand she listen to you, do things your way. No matter how she feels. Because you know you’re right.”
“I think I’d prefer some hurt feelings over one of them being killed. I can live with being the bad guy. It’s nothing new for me. They need to know the truth.”
“There are better ways,” Evie protested, standing her ground and not heading toward the house.
“Let’s hear them,” Emmitt said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Let’s hear how you would protect the people I love and my father without enabling him to come back and do it again. How would you pacify a mob family who will want him dead? Believe it or not Evie, I’ve got a lot of experience with how bad guys work and how to stop them. You can’t trust anyone. You have to have your eyes wide open at all times. See them before they see you. Act before they act.”
“How’s your track record with hurting the people you love?” Evie asked accusingly.
He opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it closed suddenly as he reached for his cell phone. “A car will be out here to pick you up in twenty minutes. Go back to the hotel. If you want to keep fighting a battle you’re going to lose with your mom, I can’t stop you. But I’m not backing down.”
“I can help you, Emmitt,” she pleaded, the anger slipping from her face and being replaced with fear. Fear that she may really lose him to this. “You can do this better.” Her hands were clenched together, ready to beg.
“I can’t,” he said, dropping his head down, not sorry for his position but sorry it meant he’d be standing alone. “And the sooner you realize that the better off you’ll be. You can’t be one of the women who tried to save me. It’s a long walk to the back of that line and everyone in it hates me. It’s better you go before this gets worse. Go back to Texas, tell my brother what’s going on with your mom, and he’ll help you. You saved Jessica’s ass from a lot of legal trouble. He won’t think twice about helping you out if it’s really what you want. Money for rehab, or whatever you think you need for her.”
“Emmitt,” she said as he turned his back and started for the house. “Please.”
“The car will be here soon,” he said, not turning to see her. “Go back to the hotel. Then back to Texas.”
He punched the keypad on the door and let himself into his mother’s house, knowing there was a woman standing behind him with a heart splitting in two. But he’d warned her. Explicitly. She wasn’t the first he’d done this to, but for some reason this was unlike the other times. As he closed the door be
hind him he realized what made leaving Evie feel different than the others he’d left in the past. It wasn’t just her heart that was breaking. He slapped a hand over his chest as though he half expected to hear a tearing noise coming from his own heart.
“Mom,” he called up the long stairway. “Mom, it’s Emmitt. I need to talk you about something.”
“Oh Emmitt,” his mother said as she glided in her nightgown toward him in the entry way. “You won’t believe who’s here.”
“Who?” he asked, the knot in his stomach tightening at the prospects.
“Your father,” she sang as she clapped her hands together joyfully. “He’s finally quit gambling, and he wants to spend some time with all you kids. Didn’t I tell you he would someday?”
Chapter 23
Evie had heard every metaphor for a heartbreak over the years but they were hollow compared to how she felt. There was a physical pain coursing through her that no amount of rationalizing would dull. She could tell herself a thousand times that Emmitt was a bastard for the way he was acting. She could remind herself none of this would get her closer to helping her mother. Yet every time she closed her eyes, blocking out the radio in the car that was taking her back to the hotel, all she saw was Emmitt. He’d made it perfectly clear he was beyond redemption, but somehow she was still unable to swallow that reality. Even faced with all the facts, she held out hope. Emmitt was like a patient, and she refused to accept that nothing more could be done to save him. There had been too many glimmers of hope to ignore.
“I’m sorry about the car trouble,” the short skinny driver apologized again. “Thank you for being patient while they brought me a new ride.”
Crazy Nights (The Barrington Billionaires Book 3) Page 12