imagined that he’d been wrongly imprisoned in some foreign country for speaking out against the persecution of Christians. But, on days when reality struck, I admitted he was probably a drug addict wandering homeless in the streets of some city. That’s why Frank Majestic could never track him down. How do you find a man that no longer exists?
Frank lunged toward me, sticking his steaming red face in mine. “Tell me where he is! Nobody messes with Frank Majestic and gets away with it.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
In the corner of my eye, Melissa dropped Andrew into Samantha’s lap, extracted Hannah from her leg, and stomped over to Frank. “Get out of here. Don’t you talk to my friends like that.”
“Melissa,” Frank seethed, “get in the car with the kids. Now.”
On the bright side, my father was not Frank Majestic, proof that things could always be worse. The thought tempered my anger.
Missy crossed her arms and got between us. “I’m staying here, you’re leaving,” she said to her father. “Nobody in this room did anything to you. Quit taking it out on them.”
“I’ll tell you what they did to me. They put ideas in my daughter’s head. Made her think she could do things she shouldn’t be doing. Then they broke down the line of trust between me and my associates. If I can’t make a living in trucking, who do you think is going to support your lifestyle?”
“You don’t make a living in trucking,” Melissa said, “you make a living in trafficking. I don’t want any part of it.”
“How do you think you’re going to survive? I can’t support you from prison.”
“I’ll figure out a way.”
“You? You never held a job in your life. You’ve got two kids with one on the way. Who do you think is going to hire you in that condition? And no man’s going to look at you, you’re all swelled up like a pig at auction. If you weren’t my own daughter, I couldn’t even stand the sight of you.”
Missy’s eyes watered at the cruel words. By the time Frank shut his mouth, she’d crumpled into a ball on the couch. Hannah ran her hands through her mother’s hair. Samantha wrapped her arms around Missy’s back, soothing her while she cried.
Frank watched his daughter’s breakdown, smug satisfaction written all over his face.
Something inside me snapped. “You bully. You creep. You don’t even deserve to have a daughter.” I crossed to him in the center of the room and peered with eyes of accusation at his bulging features. It was hard to tell if I’d surprised him or if his high blood pressure was acting up.
He bared his teeth in his plumped-up head. “Neither does Jacob Russo. And I’ll make sure he never sees you again, unless you feel like telling me where he is.”
“Even if I knew, I’d never tell you. You killed my mother and you tried to kill me.”
“I didn’t kill your mother. The guys were just trying to get her to pull over so they could ask where Jacob had been hanging out. I guess she’d rather have died than told on him.” Frank gave a chuckle. “How about you, toots? Are you going to die protecting a no-good son of a—” he looked at Hannah’s big eyes watching him “—gun, or are you going to tell me where your daddy is so you can live to be a mommy some day?”
Behind Frank, a shadow moved near the archway. Somewhere in the kitchen, a floorboard squeaked. I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, I plan on living. But I think your luck’s about to run out.”
“Ooo. I’m scared.” Frank looked around at his cohorts. “Aren’t you scared, boys?”
The guys put on a show to impress their boss.
“Oh, yeah. I’m really shaking now,” Stick said.
“Yeah. Me too,” Skuzzaroni replied, knocking his knees together in fun.
I rolled my eyes at their behavior. I could swear I’d seen the episode before, while watching cop shows with Brad.
Then there was movement, a streak of color from the kitchen archway over to Frank. A slender arm wrapped Frank’s neck. A gun prodded his temple. He froze, gasping. Candice’s face appeared over the stubby man’s shoulder. Stick and Skuzzboy floundered for their weapons.
“Put the guns on the floor.” Candice gave the orders like a pro.
Stick and Skuzz hesitated, then set their weapons down.
“Hey, now, sweetheart. Let’s work this out.” Frank put in his plea.
“I’m done working with you, Frank. I told you if you tried to hurt my girl, it was all over.” She nodded at Joel and Gerard. “Help me out.”
Joel and Gerard stood, the weapons from the floor now in their hands. Joel kept his trained on Stick and Skuzz. Gerard swung his around to face Candice. She kept the gun tight to Frank’s skull.
“Put it down, Candice. Nobody has to get hurt,” Gerard said.
“I can’t let him go again. I’m sorry, Gerard. I know you worked hard to track all the connections and players. I should have just handed you the black box. It could have put Frank away for the rest of his life. But I couldn’t take the chance he’d get off on some technicality. He killed Beth and he almost killed Tish. If you think he deserves mercy, you’re wrong.”
“Put the gun down.” The voice came from the archway.
It was Brad. With all the commotion, none of us had heard him arrive. He held a pistol in front of him, aimed at Candice.
“Are you two nuts?” I asked. “Frank’s the criminal here, not Candice.”
“Stay out of it, cuz,” Gerard said. “There’s not a whole lot of difference between these two. Justice will be served when they’re both behind bars.”
Could Gerard be right? I slumped over to the couch and sat next to Samantha. I wanted Candice to be the friend she’d always been. I didn’t want her to have some secret life, where she framed drug lords and killed dealers. She was Candice. The Tea Lady. The woman who’d dreamed of being like a grandmother to me.
“Backup’s on the way,” Brad was saying. “You two did a pretty lame job hiding your vehicle. Anyone could see it through the trees. And a five-year-old could spot your elephant tracks.”
“You must be Brad,” Candice said over her shoulder in her spider-versus-the-fly voice.
“Put the weapon down.” Brad filled the archway with his imposing form.
Without a trace of fear toward the gun trained on her back, Candice ground the muzzle of her weapon into Majestic’s temple.
“Ahhh!” Majestic squirmed under the pressure.
Candice threw a glance over her shoulder. “Well, Brad. You don’t seem to respect the fact that I’m in charge here.”
“I respect the law”—Brad’s gun held steady—“which you don’t seem to mind breaking.”
His remark earned a smile from Candice. I held a moment of hope that the situation would be resolved.
“I’m telling you right now, Brad,” she said. “You don’t deserve Tish. You’re just like the rest of them. No respect for women. You’ll try to break her down and crush her spirit.”
Brad shook his head. “You’re wrong. I love Tish. And I love her spirit best of all. She’ll be safe with me.” He sent a split-second glance in my direction.
I pressed my lips between my teeth, overcome by his declaration.
Candice egged him on. “You’re a man. You can’t help but stomp all over us. It’s in your blood. Now back away from the door. Frank and I were just leaving.”
Brad stayed rooted to the floor.
“Back off or I’ll kill him.” She jammed the barrel against Frank’s head.
Frank gave a yell. “Do what she says. She’s a killer.”
Brad stepped from the doorway, gun still pointed at Candice.
“Move it, Frank,” Candice said. The two stumbled backward toward the kitchen archway. Candice stopped at the doorway with her hostage. Only Frank was visible from my place on the sofa.
Candice’s voice drifted to me. “Tish, always remember I love you.”
Then in a blink, the pistol left Frank’s head and pointed in Brad’s direction.
My ears exploded as she pulled the trigger.
