“After asking around, he found out that Dr. Johnson knew she’d taken the deal in exchange for opening her parents’ cold case, but he was instructed not to tell anyone else. They gave herthe leave of absence so she could focus solely on me, but they specifically didn't discuss her because they were each hiding something.”
I shrugged. “It’s all moot.”
In fact, none of it mattered in the tiniest amount. She hated me, and I hated her. The end.
“So you’re just going to stand here all day, every day, and wallow? You love her, for fuck’s sake. Figure out how to make it right.”
Anger built inside me, but I tried to keep myself in check. Drinking always put my control at the end of a thin thread, and it would snap easily if I didn't hold on tight. “There’s no possibility of making it right.”
“You both did things you regret,” he began.
Fury simmered closer to the boiling-over point. “I’m warning you to stop pushing me, old man.”
“We read her texts!” he shouted. “She told them she was done once you started dating. The truth was right there in black and white.”
“So help me.” Taking a deep breath, I spun on him. “What part of I murdered her parents do you not understand? She loathes me, and I would say the feeling is mutual.”
He matched both the tone and volume of my voice. “Why, because she played us and we didn't see it?”
I snorted. “As a matter of fact, I told you all it took was a pretty face for you to forget your rules, and I was right.”
“Except I knew who she was from the start. I can’t be mad at her now for doing what she had to do.”
“Well, I can, because you didn't have the courtesy to tell me her true identity!” Finally fed up, I swallowed the rest of the bourbon and went back to the liquor cabinet. “I wanted to do a background check. I wanted to have someone tail her, and if I’d kept that up, we’d have seen her meeting with them!”
“In other words, you’re pissed at yourself because you dropped your guard for once in your life.”
Filling the next glass to the top, I responded, “All it did was prove I’ve been right to leave my walls up.”
“Congratulations. Now you’re right but lonely.” He tossed my phone on the bed and walked out, slamming the door on the way.
Not that long ago, I’d realized I would do anything for her,beanyone for her, but she’d thrown it back in my face. She’d kept more than her identity from me; she'd failed to mention she set out to ruin me from the start.
Time didn't heal all wounds as people claimed. Look at the years that had transpired between that awful night and now. She hadn't healed; she had adapted, but it had affected her daily life for the worse. Even if I could forgive her, which I wasn't saying I could, there was zero chance of her forgiving me. Her male family members had proven to be deadly adversaries, which meant I did the right thing. I was only sorry Carmine hadn't been alone—not that I planned on giving her a pointless apology for killing her mother.
We had to move on with our plans to kill her second cousin. He’d proven to be more ruthless than Carmine, and we couldn't allow him to keep killing people he didn't like in order to expand his territory. We’d cut out that kind of nonsense years ago.
If Lombardi wanted to go down with the ship, that was fine by me, too.
Despite my effort to the contrary, her face appeared in my vision once again, playing on repeat the way she seemed to break right in front of my eyes as she admitted she’d been working with the FBI to put me in prison. Worse, though, was the way she kept asking if I’d pulled the trigger or if Dad had done it. Which of the men she had grown to love was responsible for killing her family and putting her on a path of misery and sorrow?
The answer was me, but it didn't matter if I admitted it out loud or not. My refusal to respond was enough of an answer. She’d never believed my excuses or half-truths when I covered up what we were doing, and she wouldn't start now. With a heavy pounding in my head, I wondered if she would go back to working with them, trying her damndest to punish me for a decades-old crime. We’d have to be even more careful with our activities if the feds were onto our scent, though we always did our best to cover our tracks. She couldn't have overheard anything damaging if Dad and I were still on this side of the razor wire, and there was zero chance of her getting close enough again to hear me say anything incriminating.
I poured another bourbon, realizing I couldn't recall how many that made for the day, much less how many I’d had since she left. If I could drown myself in the liquor, I would take that option, because my life was quickly being reduced to nothing more than wreckage. Part of me wanted to betray my oath and turn my back on my father and his organization, but the bigger part of me knew that wasn't a true option; the life we led was ingrained in our DNA, not something we could set aside and forget. Besides, it wouldn't matter if I went through with it or not. Our enemies would always see me as Benito Costa’s son and his heir to the empire. I would never be out from under the destruction and death.
I would never be innocent again.
Which meant it was for the best that we’d detonated our relationship when we had. Between her illusion of morals and my severe lack thereof, we would never have been compatible long-term. Of course, at the time I labeled her as scrupulous, I didn't know she was a backstabbing liar selling me out to the highest bidder.
“Still wallowing?” I heard my father say.
Shrugging, I finished pouring my drink and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. “If you want to call it that.”
“What would Sailor have to do in order for you to forgive her?”
I winced at the sound of her name. For days, I’d carefully avoided thinking it or saying it out loud. She was really Sara, anyway, but that name made my skin crawl. It only reminded me of what I’d done to her the last time she went by that name.
“Why do you care?” I finally answered. “Just pick one of the women you said I’d have to marry and send her to me.”
