His eyes narrow as he leans forward.
“You did a shitty thing using my daughter to get to me, but your plan backfired because I ain’t giving anyone up. A lot of blood has touched my hands, but my daughter’s will never be on them.”
“I’m only going to say this one more time, so listen up, old man, I didn’t use your daughter. I pulled Antonia over a couple of weeks ago because she’s a piss poor driver. Tell me, did she get that from you?” I don’t let him answer the question as I continue, mimicking his stance by leaning over the table too. “I was prepared to pick up Antonia from work and bring her to your place. She wanted me to talk to you, to make you see what she sees in me.”
“All I see is a crooked cop who took advantage of my daughter.”
I take it back.
He’s no savage.
He’s a thickheaded son of a bitch with an anger problem.
“Look closer,” I tell him. “You’ll see a man who cares about her. I didn’t plan on your daughter. I didn’t want to share my life with anyone, but the way her existence changed you, it changed me too. I don’t have enemies.”
“You’re looking at one.”
“Because I came to work and did my job? Is that what makes me your enemy?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m a cop and a mediocre one. That’s my only offense, DeLuca. If it wasn’t me who put those cuffs on you today, it would’ve been someone else. Another cop, probably a better one too. Arresting you would’ve been the highlight of his career.”
“Why not yours?”
“Because there’s a woman downstairs who is hurting because of all this and my career doesn’t seem all that important knowing that I had a hand in that. You got a choice here, Tank. You can keep your mouth shut and take the wrap for the guns, but with your record you’re looking at fifteen years. Let me not forget the charges they’re going to tack on from today. They got you assaulting a police officer with a deadly weapon and newsflash, one of our guys is in critical condition from a gunshot wound to the neck. If he doesn’t make it—”
“I get it,” he interrupts. “Doesn’t change anything.”
“Give them Bendetti and I’ll get them to cut you a deal. Five years. If you stay out of trouble, you might even be eligible to get out on an early release.”
I have no fucking idea if any of this is feasible.
I’m like a fucking magician.
For my next act, I’ll pull a probation deal out of my hat.
Tank laughs wickedly in my face, and I grimace.
Yeah, man, I don’t buy my bullshit either.
But you can’t blame a guy for trying.
“You said yourself you’re a mediocre cop,” he points out.
About that…it seemed like a good thing to say at the time.
Now, not so much.
“I’m a mediocre cop, but I’m a good guy,” I say, and he raises an eyebrow.
Well, you got his attention.
Don’t drop the ball, dickhead.
“I’m a good guy who loves your daughter,” I blurt.
“You barely know my daughter,” he scoffs.
“How long did it take you to fall in love with her?”
“Seconds.”
“Then you know it’s possible,” I say, pausing for a beat. “Take the deal Tank, and I’ll take care of Antonia.”
It would be my pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Antonia
Seeing my father be dragged out of the clubhouse in a pair of cuffs wasn’t all that shocking to me. It was normal and if I’m being honest, a relief. It meant his enemies hadn’t caught up to him. It meant one of the bodies on the floor wasn’t his.
It meant there was still time to make things right between us.
He had spent most of his life beating the charges brought against him; I had no doubt he’d beat whatever they were hitting him with now too. Albeit, I don’t recall a time when SWAT was involved, but my dad was alive, and I had faith.
For about a second.
Then my eyes drifted to the man responsible for the shiny cuffs decorating my dad’s wrists. The man I trusted, the one who swore he wasn’t like the others that came before him. The man I thought I could love and would love me in return. Marco was supposed to restore my heart, not break it beyond repair.
There is nothing I hate more than being made the fool, and that’s exactly what I am. A stupid fucking fool who was so thirsty for love and affection, she let her guard down and invited the enemy to her front door. Those bodies I mentioned, all that carnage—I did that.
Me and my foolish heart are the culprits.
And if my dad never sees the light of day again, that’s on me too.
The sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floor catches my attention and I lift my head, spotting their owner immediately. She sticks out like a sore thumb, perfectly posh and filthy rich. I bet those shoes cost more than my Harley.
“Antonia,” she exclaims, rushing for me.
Don’t roll your eyes,
You need her to get your dad out of this mess you created.
“Mom,” I reply curtly as I rise to my feet. Her eyes slowly rake over me, and a slightly horrified expression settles on her face.
“What happened to you?”
“I’m having a rough day. Can we maybe skip the judgments?”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she argues. “You’ve been crying.”
Someone polish a trophy for her.
“Yeah, because the only parent who gives a damn about me is currently in a cell and the men who helped him raise me are either dead or in a jail cell next to his.”
I close my eyes, wishing the truth wasn’t so harsh.
The world a little less ugly.
I will not cry in front of her.
Drawing in a deep breath, I ignore the hurt reflected in her eyes. She doesn’t get to feel bad. She walked away from all of this, and she’ll walk away again.
“My dad pays you a lot of money, keeping you in those designer heels of yours. Earn them and keep him out of jail.”
She doesn’t make a move and I lose my patience with her. My gaze darts around the crowded precinct until it settles in on the cranky old desk sergeant who stole my melons. Brushing past my mother, I march toward her, recalling my last visit here and the pack of cigarettes I caught her pocketing. Before I can ask the broad if I can bum a cigarette from her, I hear a familiar voice call my name.
A voice that belongs to a man I wish didn’t exist.
“Antonia,” Marco repeats.
As if I didn’t fucking hear him the first time.
“We need to talk,” he says.
The man is clueless. If the world was burning to ash, and he was the last man standing, I wouldn’t waste my spit on him much less speak to him.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but—”
Something inside me snaps and I turn around. Blinded by rage, I don’t even look at him as I rear my fist back and clock him in the jaw. His hand moves to his cheek and the entire precinct comes to a standstill as he stares at me with a look of defeat in those expressive eyes of his.
“You have no idea what I’m thinking!” I shriek. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone, and I meant it. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you…” my words trail as I shake out my throbbing fingers. “And there’s plenty more where that came from so if you’re smart, you’ll fuck off somewhere.”
He drops his hand from his cheek and squares his shoulders.
Why is he still standing here?
“I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out. I spoke to your father—”
A shrill scream leaves my lips as I plug my fingers into my ears and tune him out. He can take his excuses and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine. When his lips finally stop moving, I remove my fingers from my ears and turn my back to him. The desk sergeant stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and I’m starting
to wonder if I have.
“I know you smoke,” I begin. “I saw you with a pack of cigarettes the other day.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, I’m sort of having a nervous breakdown and could really use a cigarette right now.”
She blinks in response, and I huff out an exasperated breath.
“You stole my edible fruit arrangement lady, the least you can do is let me bum a cigarette off you.”
“You just assaulted one of my officers.”
“Great, so lock me up. It’s what you people do best around here,” I seethe, slamming my fist against the counter. “You know what? Keep your fucking cigarette.”
There’s a bodega on the corner and I need to get the hell out of here. I go to make my way out of the precinct when Marco grabs my hand. Shockingly, I don’t pull away from his touch. Instead, my gaze wanders to our joined hands.
I really wanted that hand to be the one I held for the rest of my life.
“I’m not the bad guy here, Antonia,” he murmurs. “Give me a chance to make it right.”
My eyes drift back to his, and I finally pull away from him.
“No, you’re not the bad guy. You’re worse than that.”
The tears I was trying so hard not to shed, slip from the corners of my eyes and I don’t make an attempt to hide them from him. I glance around the precinct, looking for my mom, but she’s nowhere in sight and my heart cracks a little more. I truly have no one.
A whimper escapes my lips, and I rush out of the precinct. I make it halfway down the stairs before I totally lose it. Sobbing, I drop onto the steps, defeated.
I should’ve known this is how it would end.
I should’ve built walls around my heart.
I should’ve feared love.
I should’ve realized happily ever after doesn’t really exist.
I have no idea how long I sit there crying, feeling sorry for myself, but when there are no more tears left to cry, I lift my head and notice the sun has gone down. Pulling myself together, I wipe my eyes and glance back at the police station. The doors push open, and my mother steps outside, her eyes immediately finding mine. She closes the distance between us and sets her briefcase down on the steps. Without saying a word, she pulls me into her arms, and I go completely still.
I don’t remember the last time my mother hugged me.
The scent of her perfume wafts past my nose and I feel my throat tighten. For a long time, I struggled to recall her scent. To recall the way her hands felt on my hair. Even her laugh. I don’t know if I’m vulnerable or what the case is, but I need this hug and maybe I need my mother too.
“No matter what happens, you’re going to be just fine. You’re not alone,” she murmurs against my hair.
My brows pinch together, and I untangle myself from her arms.
“Does that mean you can’t get him off this time?”
Sighing, she cocks her head to the side.
“They offered your father a deal and I’ve told him to take it.” She pauses to shake her head. “Antonia, your father has been playing Russian roulette with the law for thirty years. If he doesn’t take the deal, he’s looking at a minimum of fifteen years and though I am a damn good lawyer, I don’t think I can sweep this one under the rug.”
“You didn’t even try,” I accuse.
“It’s too risky,” she insists. “I am not confident he gets out of this without doing time. Now, we can roll the dice and hope he’s out in fifteen, but let’s call a spade a spade, Antonia, fifteen years will kill your father. This way he’s out in five.”
I shake my head.
I haven’t had to live a day without him, how am I supposed to survive five years?
“I know this is a lot to take in, but Tank already agreed. We’re just waiting on the district attorney to get the paperwork together and then we’ll go in front of the judge.”
“That’s it?” I admonish. “We’re just going to let him go to jail?”
She doesn’t reply.
I guess that’s my answer.
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” she says.
There’s no fight left in me and so I let her lead me away from the precinct, but it feels like I’m leaving a piece of me behind.
It’s okay.
Who needs a treacherous heart, anyway?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Antonia
I once heard someone say if you follow a spiral inward, it never ends. It will just keep tightening infinitely. I think that’s what happened; I followed the spiral and there’s no magic lever to release the pressure. I can’t claw my way to the top or reverse the damage.
After my mother drove me home, I passed out on the couch. I don’t know if she stayed with me, but by the time I woke up; she was gone. I was glad because I wasn’t in the mood or the frame of mind to deal with anyone.
That didn’t stop the phone from ringing, though, or the infinite text messages from Marco, which I ignored. I think the only reason I didn’t bury my phone in the backyard was that I was still holding out for a miracle. Still hoping my dad would call me and tell me to pick him up, that the charges were dropped, and he was a free man.
But that didn’t happen.
Soraya called and left a message. She left several messages actually and at first, they were work related.
Hey, I’m just calling to check in. I hope you were able to take care of that family emergency.
An hour later…
You’re later than usual, is everything okay?
Twenty minutes after that.
Ok, I guess you’re not coming in today. Can you at least give me a call and let me know if you’re okay? You left really abruptly yesterday.
Five minutes later…
I just got off the phone with Marco. Call me.
The last message she sent was a response to the anonymous submission I had sent to her last week. I couldn’t bring myself to read it. Just knowing that she knew it was me who had sent it was enough to send me over the edge. I grabbed whatever I could find in my dad’s liquor cabinet and started drinking.
It was five o’clock somewhere and if it wasn’t, I didn’t care. When your life falls to shit, there isn’t a manual to follow. Etiquette isn’t a concern. You just roll with the punches and hope you survive the day.
When it did actually become five o’clock, my phone dinged with a calendar alert. I had forgotten all about my scheduled appointment with Tig. Instead of dismissing the alert like I should have, I pulled open my rideshare app. I was too drunk to drive, but I decided I wasn’t going to miss the appointment. A tattoo was the furthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to know if everything was a lie. Did Tig really want to meet me or was he part of the plan too? In my drunken stupor, I even wondered if Marco lied about Tig and Delia’s infertility issues. It didn’t seem that much of a stretch when I had already convinced myself the only reason Soraya hired me in the first place was to assist Marco in his agenda to take down my dad.
My ride arrived in ten minutes and now, a half hour later, I’m standing outside Tig’s shop in the rain, holding an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, wondering how the fuck I let any of this happen. I’m about to turn around and leave when Tig’s eyes meet mine through the glass window. He rises from his stool and makes his way toward the door. Opening it, he steps outside and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.
“I didn’t think you were going to show,” he says over the rain.
I blink the rain away from my eyelashes and swallow. Coming here was another mistake.
“I’m sorry…” I stammer, glancing down at the empty bottle in my hand. Tears well in my eyes and I feel myself start to break. Tig takes the bottle from my hand and lifts my chin with his finger.
“Come inside,” he says.
I know I shouldn’t, but I let him lead me into the shop. He nods for me to take a seat at his station and shrugs his hoodie from his shoulders. Draping it over the front desk, he chuc
ks the bottle of Jack and reaches under the desk to open a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Patron. I watch him walk to the door and flick the sign that reads ’we’re open’ to ‘we’re closed’.
My mind flashes back to the night Marco shared Tigs story with me and how he said they were hurting financially from all the fertility treatments. He made me understand that Tig and Delia didn’t miss a day of work, nor did they close their shop for no good reason. Yet, there’s no sign of Delia, and Tig just closed his doors.
Lies.
They’re everywhere.
“Were you in on it too?” I blurt the question and he turns to face me. Unscrewing the cap from the bottle of Tequila, he straddles his stool and offers it to me. He’s about to stomp on what’s left of my heart, I’d be a fool not to drink his booze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as I knock back the tequila. It slides smoothly down my throat, so I take another sip.
Tig takes the bottle from me before I can get a third shot in and I sneer at him.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what happened. He’s your cousin.”
“There are two sides to every story and I only know one,” he replies, setting the bottle on the counter next to his tattoo gun.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with that,” I say, pointing to the bottle.
“Yeah, you are,” he says, crossing his arms against his chest. “If you don’t want to be the one who does the talking, then I’ll do the talking and you do the listening.”
I didn’t come here for a pep talk; I came here so he could reveal all the horrible lies his cousin let me believe and I can finally be done with him.
“I knew you were special by the way he talked about you when he was here, that’s why I wanted to meet you myself. There’s not much that rattles Marco, but you shook his whole fucking world and on Saturday, he was the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He wanted it to work with you whether you believe it or not.”
“He used me to get to my father,” I snap.
“That’s bullshit, Antonia. Maybe that’s what your dad wanted to believe himself, but it’s not the case.”
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