As I get up I’m distracted when I see Vikki passing by an ice cream shop that, I kid you not, makes the best ice cream in the entire world.
“Hey!” I shout.
Vikki turns around, peering at me over her sunglasses.
I point to the pink painted store, a hand cupped over my mouth like a microphone, “Go in there. You can thank me later.”
Her head lowers even more like she needs to view me better to make sure I seriously just told her to stop for ice cream after everything she just said. I love that I caught her off guard.
All I can respond with is a shrug and a grin. I will never not like a person enough to deny them good ice cream. Besides, she’s kind of growing on me. I won’t ever tell her that of course; it’d make her far too happy in that evil mastermind way of hers (that is pretty badass if I’m being honest).
Vikki goes inside, throwing open the door with an air of superiority like she owns the place. I can’t help but smile.
My mind focuses back on our conversation, overflowing with too many questions that need answering. First things first: talk to my father.
Chapter 17
I take a seat in front of my father’s desk.
He looks up with a smile that quickly vanishes as he takes in my somber expression.
I get right to the point, letting my rigid posture and tone speak clearer than my words, “It’s time we talked.”
My father lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose and nodding, “Close the door.”
I do as I’m told, hands shaking, heart rate accelerating, knowing that my world is about to change. I’m not sure I’m ready. I sit back down anyway. This is, after all, my father; the man who raised me and showered me with love and devotion. Nothing he can say can take that away. I hope.
“First, you need to know my past and how that lead to the choices I made.” My dad puts a fist to the front of his mouth, clearing his throat. “I was raised on the streets, where survival was all about who you were associated with. Please don’t ask where this was, I don’t want you to know. I’m not that man anymore,” he stops to look me directly in the eyes. “That’s what I want you to remember. I’m me, the man you know now, and not the man I was. I never really was him. I only did what had to be done to survive. I followed behind some bad people, did things for them I can never take back and have to live with. They respected me for my loyalty, smarts, and the ability to make one hell of an omelet.” He grins at the last remark.
I grin back, taking comfort that that part of him has always been there.
He looks down at his hands, like he can’t look at me while he talks, “It’s amazing how supplying yummy food can make you an asset. Sometimes I think a delicious, hearty, fresh-made meal can have more power over someone than they realize. I knew though, I knew the charming capabilities of a good meal. Because of that I moved up fast. With that came secrets.” My father once again pauses to glance over at the picture frames he keeps on his desk of his wife and daughters.
“You do realize you’re hardly telling me anything, right?” My voice rises as my patience wanes, “I need answers, answers that aren’t evasive and withholding details.”
My father rubs his temple, picking up his favorite family photo we had taken at Dylan Beach two summers ago. “I know. I’m not sure how to share my past, yet keep you from knowing it at the same time.”
My frustration level’s growing again. Is it National Be-Cryptic-and-Vague-to-Mess-with-Freya’s-Head Day?
He gently places the wooden frame back down, “Okay. Every society has rules, correct?”
This better be going somewhere. “Correct.”
He clasps his hands together, turning into the professional he rarely is, the one he reserves for vendors, “And every society has those who break those rules.”
I nod.
“Every society also has those who have gained enough power and money that those rules don’t apply. I’m not talking about the mafia or cartel. Those are the obvious ones. I’m talking about men who have respectable reputations, ones who run multi-billion dollar companies who donate and fund those who run our country–”
I have to stop him, “I’m not here for another one of your greedy politician lectures, so you can step right off that soapbox.”
My dad laughs, probably remembering all the times he’d rant for so long that everyone listening, which unfortunately was usually Maya and I, would fall asleep right where we were sitting (sometimes even standing upright). “I promise it’s not one of those. This is about a particular company. One that helps to save lives or prolong them with their drugs, and because of that they make more money than can ever possibly be spent, giving them far too much power with it.
“Sometimes a new drug comes along, one that has potential to demolish a disease, but cures don’t make these men rich; sickness and disease do. So they find ways to make it go away. A common way it to simply offer the researchers hundreds of millions for control over their findings. It’s no skin off their backs, because what’s that to a person making billions? Once the rights are sold, this same company goes through regulations to have it approved, but coincidentally they are not approved and are deemed unsafe for humans, therefore never seeing the light of day.
“There are the few researchers who won’t sell out, who are determined to see it to the end, knowing how corrupt these companies are. One day these people who were on the brink of something amazing will unexpectedly die in a mishap. An example of that would be a fire in their lab that kills them and their research–”
I interrupt again, knowing it can take him days to get to the point, “What does any of this have to do with you?”
He once again glances over at his collection of photos. “Somebody has to do these powerful men’s dirty work. They have certain men for this, men who stay in the shadows and make their problems ‘go away’.”
“You were one of those men, the ones who made these problems go away?” I guess from the haunted look to his eyes.
“Yes. I’m ashamed of the man I once was. I’m not making excuses; however, at the time he was the only man I knew how to be.” I’ve never seen such sadness shadow my father’s blue eyes before. “As I stole more information and learned more about what they were after I became disgusted with my employers. One time I discovered information that woke me up to what I was doing, to the evils I was helping. Not long after, on a night we were hired to stage an accidental car crash, things went wrong. The other car, the one we were supposed to take out, had anticipated us. We still managed to end them, but they took us down with them, killing the driver and severely injuring me. I saw it as my opportunity to escape that life. Working on pure adrenaline, I got my battered body out of the smashed car and found a way to make the car explode. My plan worked; they believed I was dead. I was free to start a new life. I took what money I had stashed, and as fate would have it, it was enough for some facial surgery, changing my appearance and giving me a new identity. I moved here, thinking that some meditation and brownies would do me some good. Shortly after, I met your mother, fell madly in love, and well, you know the rest.”
“It still doesn’t explain how you knew who Vic was or his father,” I urge, needing more from his story.
“His father was one of the men in charge. Not one of the CEOs, but one of the ones they called upon to fix their problems. I was one of his minions, though very low on the chain so I never personally met the man, but I had heard horror stories of his ruthlessness; how he forced his own son to commit murder on people he knew just for the practice of it and to teach him that anybody is dispensable, or how his daughter could shoot a moving target in the middle of a crowded street and have nobody suspect it was her. Because of all that, when I heard Vic use his last name I thought for sure he was after me. I know things, things that could bring companies down, or worse, men like Vic’s father. When he pulled me aside, he not only told me about the death of his father, but that he was hired to either find me or confirm
that I had truly died all those years ago. I’m not sure why, but Vic’s employer wants me.”
I straighten in my seat, “What will happen?”
“Nothing good,” he sits back in his chair, leaning his head back. “I presume I will be his prisoner until I’m no longer needed, at which point they will either kill me, or for some crazy reason they’ll let me go. If that happens, others will come for me. Vic has given me the chance to run again, but that means I leave you, your sister, and your mother behind.”
“What? No, you can’t!” I shout, practically jumping out of my seat.
“I have no choice. Vic trusts that his employer will not harm any of you or shed light on who you are. I can’t say the same once I’m brought out and word gets around.”
“Does Mom know about this? All of it?”
“Yes. I told her shortly after we started dating, as soon as I knew it was serious. I knew it was the only way I could keep her; she needed the choice.”
“What about you disappearing again?” No way would Mom allow him to leave us.
“Her first reaction was to come with me, but she can’t leave you girls.”
“We’ll come with you.” I know Maya would agree.
“No,” my dad shakes his head, truly coming across as defeated. “I won’t be able to disappear like I could as one.”
“When do you have to go?”
“Vic gave me until tomorrow night. He can’t hold off his employer any longer; he’s already suspicious of a man like Vic taking this long.”
I stand, turning to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Vic.”
“That won’t help.”
“I don’t care,” my hand is at the knob as I glance over at him. “I have to try and at least talk to him about this.”
My father nods, the heartache in his eyes pinching my insides. “It won’t change anything.”
To hell it won’t.
Chapter 18
As I make the walk to Vic’s hotel, sadness manifests itself into rage. Vic knew about my father and never told me. I feel betrayed and horrified that I had fallen so quickly for a man who was deceiving me. I played right into his hands. I’m such a fool.
I never learned what room he’s in so I go to the receptionist to ask, “I’m looking for someone staying here under the name Vitalle?”
The receptionist forces a smile, “I’m sorry, I can’t give that information out.”
“Can you ring him for me then? Let him know I’m here?”
“Vitalle, you said?”
I nod and the receptionist punches the keyboard, eyes scanning the screen, “I’m sorry, there is nobody here by that name.”
I try again, “What about under Fox?”
She searches again. “One moment,” she picks up the receiver to the phone next to her and pokes a few numbers. “This is Melody at the front desk. I have a…” she glances at me.
“Freya,” I quickly respond.
The receptionist goes to answer, but instead nods to whatever is said on the other line then hangs up. “He wants you to head on up to him. He’s in room 203.”
“Thank you,” I say over my shoulder.
The anger I had suppressed in order to find out his room resurfaces, and by the time I reach it I’m fuming.
I knock loud and hard, and when he answers I slap him across the face like this is some kind of soap opera.
Vic curses, rubbing his jaw as he works it back and forth.
My hand stings, so I shake it out and push past him, tempted to do it again as it felt really freaking good.
“Who is he?” I demand, whipping around close to his bed, arms crossed over my chest, glaring at Vic as though my eyes are weapons of their own and with one false action I have the ability to annihilate him.
Vic gently closes the door. Everything from his voice, to his posture, to his stupid expressionless face, is calm as though he was expecting this. It only pisses me off more.
“Who?”
“The man who wants my father you dumbass.” At the moment, name calling also feels good. Not as good as slapping him, but it’ll do. For now.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Fuck you,” I sneer, venom pouring from my words. “You can, and you will.”
Vic stays by the door, sensing anything closer might make the bomb inside of me explode. “Why do you need to know?”
“I want to talk to him. See what he wants. Maybe work something out.”
Vic laughs. Not a happy sounding one; it’s deep, throaty, and dark. “There is nothing to work out. There are some men you don’t negotiate with.”
Traitorous tears burn my eyes. I hate them for betraying me. I remain strong. They’re nothing compared to the deception of the man in front of me. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll find him myself.”
Vic has the nerve to smirk, “How will you do that?”
“I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the name Vault flash on your phone. I’ll start there.” Vic’s mask drops for a second, enough to reveal that my hunch is right. “I’ll go to San Francisco, ask around.”
Vic moves so fast that it startles me into backing up, my knees hitting the bed. I lose my balance and fall onto my bottom. He leans over, hands resting on the mattress, his face inches away. His features have changed into dark, sharp edges. I become freighted of him, never thinking that was possible.
“Don’t mess with a world you know nothing about,” he sneers through his teeth. I try not to cower back from the fierceness of it.
My voice is hushed, my earlier adrenaline evaporating, “What choice do I have? He’s my dad.”
“It’s his mess, let him figure it out.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s family. We’re in this together.” That’s our biggest difference: Vic doesn’t understand what it means to be a family.
He remains glaring at me; this merciless man is somebody I’ve never met before. Despite his change of character I’m not scared anymore, just exhausted and so very sad, “Was I just a game to you?”
Vic’s head ticks back, “What?”
I move a hand between us, hitting both our chests from lack of room, “Us. Was I entertainment to you? Did you laugh at how easy I was, how clueless I had been?”
The stupid tears are back and as hard as I try to hold them in, one escapes. Vic brushes it away before I can, his thumb lingering on my cheek. I hate, absolutely hate, that my body still lights up from his touch even though I’m furious with him and utterly heartbroken.
“No, Freya.” He wipes away another, “What we have is real.”
“Had. What we had,” I clarify. There’s no way we can have any sort of relationship now. My heart plummets like a lead brick at the realization.
“Have,” Vic disputes. “This is just a setback.”
The anger is back. I welcome it, invite it in, offering it my veins, my blood, my heart. I slide out from under him and put a nice gap between us. He truly doesn’t understand. I guess I should expect that when the only relationship he’s ever had is with his sister, whom he rarely sees.
Vic must sense my stewing and takes the opportunity to expand, “You were not part of the plan.” I open my mouth to say something snarky but he talks louder. “I had a job to do: confirm that your father was somebody else. Instead, I found myself watching you, getting distracted by the sensuality you’re not even aware you possess; everything about you really. I would follow you instead of him, come inside your home and look through your things when I should have been focusing on your father.”
“You were stalking me!” I jump up and Vic moves aside to allow me the room. I was joking before, and I thought he was too. This is so messed up.
“Yes,” Vic answers like it’s to be expected and not a big deal. “I figured out it was your father within the first week of my arrival. I held off on telling my employer. I needed more time. My infatuation with you was growing to the point that I couldn’t walk away. I starte
d going to the cafe, believing that I would grow bored with you once I allowed myself more interaction. By the second day I knew that was never going to happen. I wanted you in all the ways I shouldn’t. I told myself to leave. I couldn’t. I told myself one date–”
“Stop, just stop.” I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want him to talk about us. It hurts too much. His betrayal hurts too much.
I can’t be in the room with him any longer. I turn on my heel to leave. Vic is fast and right there, firmly holding my elbow. “Where are you going?”
“To find Vault.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I yank my elbow away, nearly hitting Vic in the gut. Pity, I wish I had. “You may not understand, but he’s my father. He may not have done good things once upon a time, but he’s a good man now, with people who love him and need him around.”
“Fine,” Vic says to my back as I open the door. I hear the sound of keys jingling. “I’ll come with you.”
I vigorously shake my head, “Hell no.”
“You don’t have a choice in this. I won’t let you enter into my world without knowing anything about it.”
“Funny, considering you already have.”
Vic continues to follow me out, “I can take you straight to him.”
Dammit, he has me. “Fine,” I huff.
We get in his car and buckle up.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
He’s right, but I’m trying.
Chapter 19
“Do you have a plan?” Vic asks, cutting through the silence inside his car. Earlier he had tried talking to me and I told him to shut up, rather harshly. He hasn’t spoken since (until now, that is).
I ignore him. I’m still torn up about what I’ve learned. I wish I had taken a moment to myself to sort through it all. I’ll never be able to properly think with Vic so close.
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