by Kate Stewart
When I discovered I was pregnant, I was devastated and afraid. I managed to hide my pregnancy for five months. Despite my aunt’s religious beliefs and how far along I was, she demanded that I get an abortion.
“You’re to get an abortion and do it quietly.”
“Aunt Gretchen, I can’t. How could you ask me to? I thought—”
“You are not going to shame me in front of the church. Cleanse yourself of this sin or get out of my house.”
I’d been on my own ever since.
Counting out the change I had left, I realized I had enough to make one more phone call. I had to make it count.
I picked up the receiver and hoped my memory didn’t fail me now. I’d dialed it so many times in the past only to hang up that I knew it wouldn’t.
“Hello?”
“It’s Mian.” I decided to cut to the chase. My own aunt didn’t offer me the courtesy of recognition. I had no reason to believe he would.
He exhaled heavily into the phone while I held my own breath. “What do you want?”
“I’m sure you know what I want, or I wouldn’t be calling. Believe me when I say, I want nothing else from you.”
“So you think you’d just pin a baby on me to get paid?”
“You and I both know that’s not what this is about. I lost everything because of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You raped me. Or don’t you remember? You should. I was the one drugged out of my mind while you had all the fun.”
“What are you going on about?” He’d snapped. Indifference was replaced with anger, and for the first time since I told him about Caylen, he reacted. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Because no one would believe you.”
“Are you sure about that? Caylen—that’s his name by the way–is your son. Whether you want to believe that or not, all it will take is a simple DNA test to prove.”
“Yeah? And how do you think you could get me to do that? Tell the police? My father will bury you.”
“You underestimate the way the justice system works these days. It’s no longer politicians who rule the world. It’s social media. It’s drama. It’s scandal. All I have to do is point, and you lose.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“That’s where you’ve got it twisted. I’m a mother trying to feed her child—a child that you wronged the moment you stuck your dick in me without my permission.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?”
“Even if you aren’t, you’d have a tough time proving the son of a senator raped you.” I imagined his face twisting with disgust as if I were the one drugging and raping.
“Maybe not. And it may be that the age of consent in Illinois is seventeen… but we both know the twenty-one-year-old son of a senator impregnating an underage nobody, whose father is in prison for murder, and who also accuses him of rape, will destroy your father’s career when this goes public. And it will go public, Aaron.”
Silence.
It stretched on for so long that I thought maybe I had finally won.
But I was wrong.
The line had died and with it, my last lifeline.
Did I have the strength to withstand such scandal? He was right when he threatened that his father would bury me. And what about my father? Did he even know about Caylen? Only Anna knew of how he came to be. I couldn’t even trust Erin with the truth. Did I want my father to find out from behind prison walls that his daughter had been raped?
I stared down at Caylen lying still against my chest. His eyes were closed and his breathing deep. It was trust that I’d take care of him and protect him while he slept. My shoulders shook as I mentally collapsed, but when he shifted and scrunched his face at being disturbed, I remembered he still needed me to fight.
Back at our apartment, I laid Caylen down for his nap and only when I put a safe distance between us did I allow myself to cry. All the normal feelings of despair and desperation that usually followed loss of hope spilled from me as I sunk to the floor.
How could I fool myself into thinking I could do this? I couldn’t take care of myself. It was selfish of me to bring such an innocent life into my fucked up world. Despite his conception, Caylen had become the light in my world—the one thing I had to hold onto since my mother died and my father’s incarceration.
I loved him more than I thought loving someone could be possible.
What if that meant setting him free?
I cried until I had nothing left. I cried for my parents. I cried for my innocence. And then I cried for my son, who would undoubtedly suffer unless I did the only thing that was left for me to do.
When the last tear fell, I rose up.
I only ever allowed a certain amount of time to feel sorry for myself before I let it go. Sorrow and tears wouldn’t feed my son. I made a bottle for Caylen to have when he woke and then sat down on my lumpy sofa in my box-sized living room and studied the fading paint. The only thing I had to decorate the wall was a family portrait of my father, mother, and me in front of our house. It was one of the few things I had salvaged from our home before it was seized by the bank.
I was still staring at the portrait when a single thump startled me followed by the wall vibrating from the force. The thump quickly became a hard rhythm and then the unmistakable sound of a male groan in the throes of passion filtered through the thin wall. If Brandi’s latest boy toy woke up my son, I’d scratch her fucking eyes out.
The sound of their fucking increased to the point of obscenity. I surged to my feet, intent on putting a stop to their good time, when the frame suddenly plummeted to the floor. I stared at the spot on the wall where the frame had been. Brandi and her guest never stopped fucking on the other side of the wall but I no longer cared.
The answer to my problem had revealed itself.
It meant a promise had to be broken.
Chapter 3
MIAN
“Who are you here to visit?”
“My father.”
“I need a name, miss.”
“Oh, right. Theodore Ross.” The lobby officer started tapping at her keyboard.
Please be on there.
Two and half years ago, my father forbade me to return. I assumed that meant he’d take my name from his list of approved visitors, so I was here solely on the chance that he hadn’t.
“Ok, Miss Ross. I need a valid form of identification…” I hid my relief and handed over my driver’s license. “…and for you to fill this out.” I took the form she handed me and studied it. At the top of the form read, “Notification to Visitor.” I swallowed down bile when I recalled filling out a similar form before his trial. Even though he’d left me on his list after all this time, he could still deny my visit.
I quickly filled out the form and returned it to the officer. She then returned my ID and instructed me to wait. Thirty minutes later, I was shown to security, and my relief returned full force, but on its heel was anxiety. I hadn’t seen him in almost three years.
Would he look the same?
Sound the same?
Would he even be happy to see me?
He accepted my visit so maybe there was a chance he missed me as much as I missed him. I floated through security and rode with an elevator full of visitors and two security guards to the eighth floor.
My hands were sweating so I ran them down my jeans and gave myself a pep talk. He was my father. Despite what he’d done and how far he’d pushed me away since Mom died, he would always be my father. Neither of us could change that.
Finding a seat was easy since the visiting room was mostly empty. Today was the start of the Fourth of July weekend. Incarcerated loved ones were forgotten about for summer beach fun.
I took a seat furthest away from the ears of the guards and waited with my gaze fixed on the table. The volume in the room rose as the inmates were released. I could hear tearful greetings and kisses being exchanged. I held my breath t
hrough it all.
“Hey, baby girl.”
I worried for nothing. His voice hadn’t changed a bit. I felt him standing by my side. I wanted to jump into his arms and beg him to come home, but I was too afraid of the answer.
“Hi, Daddy,” I whispered my greeting to the table.
“I’d believe that if you actually looked at me.”
Shit.
Here goes.
I tore my gaze from the table. The first thing I noticed was his chest. It was bigger than I remembered. The next were his shoulders. They were broader than I remembered. It was obvious he spent his time packing on muscle.
My gaze continued their journey until I was staring into eyes so identical to mine.
They were greener than I remember.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“That’s much better.” He opened his arms, and I leaped from the chair and launched myself into his arms.
I wasn’t going to cry.
Crying was for pussies.
I shoved my face in his chest and bawled like a baby.
“I’ve missed you too, baby girl.” He held me for as long as he could until a guard ordered us to break apart.
He squeezed me once and then moved away.
I’ve missed his hugs.
We took our seats and just stared at one another until we burst into laughter. “You look good,” I remarked. He did look good. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it didn’t appear he was suffering.
He ignored the compliment and studied me. “You don’t.”
“How perceptive, Father.”
He wasn’t amused. “Mian.”
“You’re a grandfather.”
The atmosphere around us changed with the simple flip of a switch. He blinked and sat back. Then his hand shot up, and he ran it down his face. “No. No. No. No,” he chanted. “Mian—” His voice caught.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How did this happen? This is not what I wanted for you.”
“It doesn’t matter now. He’s here, and we need your help.”
“He? You have a son?”
“Yes. His name is Caylen Theo Ross.”
My father’s lips trembled. He tried to smile and failed. “Do you have a picture?”
I flinched. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t think—I mean I wasn’t sure—”
“It’s okay,” he cut in. “Next time.”
No, it wasn’t okay. I didn’t have many photos of Caylen, but he deserved to have one. “Yes, next time.”
“Is he why you’re here? When was he born?”
“October 30th.” Confusion twisted his features. “What’s wrong?”
“That was almost nine months ago. Why am I just now finding out?”
“You forbade me to contact or visit you, remember? I’m only here now because I have no choice.”
“Ben should have told me. Is he here with you?” His tone was frigid now. “I’d like to speak with him.”
“Daddy… Uncle Ben and Aunt Gretchen kicked me out before Caylen was born. I haven’t seen them in over a year.”
He leaned forward and growled, “What?”
Oh, God. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the shit storm. “Aunt Gretchen wanted me to terminate. It was too late, so I refused, and they kicked me out.”
I watched his fists curl around the edge of the table. His knuckles were white and his face was red fury. “I gave those motherfuckers every dime I had to look after you. I’ll kill them.”
“Daddy…” I looked around nervously. I was sure threats like that wouldn’t be taken lightly in prison.
“Son of a bitch.” He snatched his hands away from the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “I should have never trusted them with you. I had no choice baby girl, you have to understand.”
“I know, Daddy. It’s water under the bridge now.”
“The hell it is.”
“Please, calm down.”
“How can I calm down? You’ve been on your own for over a year, and I had no idea. Are you doing okay?”
“No, Daddy. I’m—we’re—not. I have no money, and we’re almost out of food.”
He frowned. “What about the money I left for you?” My father had built up savings in my name in the event I ever needed it. When he got knocked, the savings had accumulated to twenty grand.
“It’s gone.”
“How could it be gone?”
“I had no medical insurance for Caylen’s doctor’s visits. Our expenses were too much even when I held a job. I had no friends or family to babysit so I could work. There was just so much, and I couldn’t get ahead. I’m sorry. I—”
“No, baby girl. Stop it. I know you did the best you could.”
“But we’re going to starve,” I cried.
“You won’t let that happen.”
I sat up straighter to appear strong. Here comes the hard part. “No, I won’t and you won’t either.”
“Mian… I have no money. I gave everything I had to your aunt and uncle in order to convince them to take care of you. I—”
“I know that, but there’s another way.”
“How? Anything.”
“Your last job. I want to know who you were going to hit and for how much.”
“What?”
“I’m going to finish what you started.”
“No, baby girl. Anything but that.”
“It’s not up to you anymore. If I can’t do this job, then there’s nothing left but shaking my ass or selling it. Take your pick, but I will not let my son starve.”
His shoulders slumped. Maybe I won. “I didn’t want this for you.”
“I know, but someone switched the cards when we weren’t looking, and I was dealt a different hand.”
“It’s dangerous. He’ll kill you if you’re caught.”
I smiled despite the warning. I knew the way my father’s mind worked. He couldn’t convince himself not to give in so he’d try to scare me out of it first. I was winning.
“Then I won’t get caught.”
“No, Mian. You don’t understand,” he stressed.
“Then make me understand,” I countered.
“The mark… it was Art.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My mind raced too quickly to piece together a complete thought.
How could this be?
Daddy may have gone down for Art’s murder, but a part of me had never believed he actually did it. When Bea named him as the person who shot Art in the heart, I still didn’t believe it.
Now my father was telling me…
“You did it, didn’t you?” He had never fully admitted it before. He allowed me to believe that something had gone horribly wrong, and he was left holding the blame.
His eyes were sad and full of remorse. “That’s between me and the dead.”
“You don’t think I deserve to know why you threw away your freedom and ruined my life to kill your best friend?” As soon as the words were out, I wished I could swallow them whole. I watched my strong father flinch. His eyes flashed with the hurt that I had caused.
“I am sorry, Mian.”
I hung my head because I couldn’t take the look on his face anymore. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I whispered to my lap.
“Four years ago, Art got this big client. Powerful. Word spread quietly among their inner circle and business for Art was booming. He was bringing in more money than ever.”
“Who was this client?”
“Too dangerous.”
“Daddy…”
“No. The client’s name is not relevant to the job, and I don’t want you mixed up in a politician’s dirty business. It’s never pretty.”
I knew the Knights did more than just grand theft. Business with politicians pretty much confirmed that their business got a lot dirtier than what met the eye.
“So, why bring him up?”
“I know you’ve been Crecia.”
I b
linked. “I didn’t know you knew,” I admitted guiltily. My father avoided me, and I kept secrets. We both had reasons to feel guilty.
“Art rarely kept things from me.”
Then why kill him?
“Oh.”
“Anyway, after Art started bringing in truckloads of money. He said he wanted a bigger home, hoping it would persuade Bea to give him more sons. He had it built and moved his family.”
“Where is this house?”
“Bea loved Crecia so he compromised and had the house built on the secluded land.”
Where the buses didn’t run, and I couldn’t walk to…
Great.
“I need the address.” He recited the address without hesitation, and I committed it to memory. “How much?”
“Sorry?”
“How much were you going after?”
He hesitated, and I could see his mind working. “What makes you think any money would still be there?”
“There may not be any, but there’s got to be something valuable.”
He must have sensed my desperation. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “When are you going to make the hit?”
“Tomorrow.”
He bent low and hissed, “Are you out of your mind? It’s too risky. You have no skill and no plan to pull off a job this soon. You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“Art is dead.”
“But his son is not.”
I sucked in air and slammed back against the chair. This wasn’t news to me. It wasn’t what sent me reeling. It was the sudden return of emotions and memories that washed away denial and the carefully sealed compartments in which I had locked away everything Angel Knight. I had not allowed myself to think about him or even speak his name in almost three years.
With five words, my father pressed the button that released the past. Maybe even permanently. The last time had nearly destroyed me.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do this?”
I held my stomach to calm the flutters. “Positive.”
“If something happens to you—”
“I can do this,” I reassured. “I’m my father’s kid, you know.”