I waved goodbye and walked to the door. When I looked back, she was already strolling back down the path, whistling to herself as she went.
That woman had her fingers in all of this. I could tell it already. She made me too at ease, made me too comfortable and happy, and that was almost as dangerous as Dean’s charming smile and muscular physique. I’d have to be careful of her, but I didn’t want to be. I craved attention from a mother figure, and some stupid part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Bea could be it.
I went inside. Dad sat on a large leather couch and looked like a little boy, swallowed by the massive, empty room. He struggled to his feet as I approached and I thought he might hug me, but he didn’t come closer as I stopped a few feet away.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
“How are you?” he asked. “I keep meaning to visit, but your uncle told me not to.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Everyone’s nice here.”
“I bet.” He looked around, eyebrows raised. “Lap of luxury, eh? Pretty nice, yeah?”
“What do you want?” I asked, the old anger simmering again.
“Ah, honesty, you know, just to see how you were doing.” He grinned at me, sheepish. His hair was thinning and the bags under his eyes were thick enough to blot out the sun. His clothes were rumpled, and he smelled like he came straight from the club.
“I find that hard to believe.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m your father,” he said softly, his smile fading. “I can’t come see how my daughter’s doing?”
“You’re here to spy on me for Uncle Roy,” I said. “So forgive me if I’m skeptical.”
His face darkened. “There’s no reason to talk to me like that.”
Now there was the father I knew. That was the man I grew up with: mercurial, quick to rage, and not shy about taking it out on me with his bare hands. The asshole wasn’t always abusive, mostly when he drank, and as I got older, I got better about defending myself, but still.
I didn’t have to put up with it anymore.
“Why don’t you just go home?” I asked. “You can tell Uncle Roy that everything’s fine.”
“I’m making sure you’re going to follow through with this deal,” he said sharply. “I need to know you’re going to do what’s best for the family.”
“For your family,” I hissed, rage spilling over. “It’s not my family. Since when has this family ever done shit for me?”
“It put a roof over your head, you ungrateful brat,” he said. “All those hours I spent working, what the fuck do you think it was all for, huh?”
“Wasn’t for me,” I said. “I had to beg for you to buy me new school clothes, and remember when I asked you for money to apply to colleges? You remember what you said?”
“Don’t be a bitch right now, Mags,” he said softly, almost a growl.
I grinned at him, so sick of his shit. “You said, ‘don’t bother, Mags, you’re way too stupid. You can work at the club.’ You wanted your own daughter to work at a strip club instead of going to college.”
“You tended bar,” he said. “I never made you dance.”
“Oh, that’s so much better. You never gave a shit about me, Dad. It was always about the family. Well, you can go back home and kiss Uncle Roy’s ass.”
He stepped up to me and grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. His grip was hard and he dug his fingers into the small bones, a growl in the back of his throat, his eyes wide with fury. I hissed with pain and tried to pull free but he grabbed me with his other hand, digging into my forearm.
“You have no fucking respect,” he said.
“Get off me,” I said, and screamed in pain when he elbowed me hard in the chest.
A door at the far side of the room slammed open. Dean came running into the room, eyes wide with surprise, a gun in his hand. Dad dropped me right away and stepped back, hands going up in the air. I rubbed my wrist in shock as Dean walked toward us, gun down at his side, eyes darting from me back to my father.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Family disagreement that got out of hand,” Dad said. “I’m sorry, Don Valentino. I never meant—”
Dean held the gun up at Dad casually. “Shut the fuck up,” he said and looked at me. “Are you okay, Mags?”
I nodded a little. “I’m fine.”
“You want me to kill him?” He tilted his head, and for a second I thought he was joking.
But he didn’t smile and the gun didn’t waver. I met his gaze and realized that he’d do it if I asked him to. If I told him to murder my father, he’d pull that trigger, and be more annoyed that he had a mess to clean up than anything else. I was sure that Bea would help him get the blood out of the carpet, and she’d dig the grave herself down by the creek.
“No,” I said. “Don’t kill him.”
He shrugged and lowered the gun as my dad let out a groan. Dean turned, took a step to my dad, then bashed the butt of the gun down into his head. Dad crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain as he grabbed at his skull.
“If you touch her again, I won’t ask next time,” Dean growled and kicked him in the stomach. “Now get up and get the fuck out.”
Dad struggled to his feet. He staggered toward the door, not bothering to look in my direction. I stared in shock as Dad disappeared.
Nobody had ever stood up to him before. Not in all the years at the club, not when I was younger and he’d yell at me in public. Not once did anyone ever try to stop him when he cursed at me and slapped me
