My throat goes suddenly dry. Having the truth confirmed will hurt like a bitch. I'm about seventy percent sure Calamity is on the level. He has no reason to lie about being a Spade. But if he's telling the truth, it means that I've been lied to my entire life by my family and by kindly Doctor Harman. It hits close to home.
I clear my throat and force the question out before I can lose my nerve.
"Is it true?"
"What do you mean?" I can hear the hastily muted sounds of a sitcom in the background. He must be at home on one of his rare days off. I almost feel bad for what's going to inevitably ruin his night.
"Is it true that my father shot Trinity Gardel?"
The silence on the other end of the line is total and confirms all my worst fears. If Harman has nothing to hide, he should have leaped in with a furious denial. Finally he spoke, voice hushed and wary.
"You can't trust, Gardel, Penny. He's a dangerous man."
"I can't trust you either, it seems. And yes, he is a dangerous man. Becausewemade him one. But he didn't use to be, right? Vincent Gardel was as much a teddy bear as Ryker underneath the muscle."
Doc Harman swears viciously beneath his breath. "Calamity Gardel isnotlike Ryker, Penny. How can you even draw that parallel?"
"Answer the damn question, Harman. Did my father shoot Trinity Gardel?"
He's silent again and I can practically see the cogs turning in his head as he formulates a response to lessen the blow.
"He wasn't aiming for Trinity," he says at last. "It wasn't murder, you know. Manslaughter, at best. If he tells you it was malicious, he's a damn liar."
Bile creeps up my throat, and I don't think I've ever been this disgusted in my life. Harman has been using this to justify that night to himself for years, washing his hands of responsibility because Trinity hadn't been the intended target, just an unfortunate byproduct.
"He told me that too," I inform him quietly. "He knows Trinity wasn't the target. My father would never have shot her on purpose. Because he was obsessed with her, wasn't he? To the point that he'd rather she hate him than let Calamity have her for a second longer."
Harman makes an inarticulate sound but doesn't deny it.
"Intending to shoot Calamity doesn't make it better," I bite out fiercely. "He still meant to kill, Doc. And you let the blame fall to an innocent man."
"He's not innocent. He's a monster, Penny. You've been in his clutches for a month. You have to have seen that."
"He's a monster we made. We have no one to blame but ourselves for what's come of it. That's all I needed to know, Doc. So I'm going to hang up now. Go ahead and tell Cruz the truth. Or don't and I will. Either way, I'm making this right."
"Penny-"
I end the call before he can say more. All his rationalizations make my stomach churn. It's all true. They ruined his life. And all this misery has come from it.
What would my life be like if my father could have just taken the rejection with grace?
I wouldn't be with Calamity, that's for damn sure. Even if things fell apart with him and his wife, which I doubt, he would respect my father and keep his hands off of me. He might have been a father figure to Kase and Cruz.
I might have even dated his son. I try to picture him. That little boy that never got to be. In my mind's eye, he's his father in miniature, and when he grows up, he bears a striking resemblance to Calamity. Tall and broad, with close-cropped blonde hair and his mother's captivating eyes. A man who flirts with danger and cultivates an air of charm. He'd be just like Vincent was. Tough, but with a heart.
My chest aches, because I'll never get to know him. And my grief about the what-ifs has to be a mere ghost of Calamity's. He's been living with this for decades.
Brooklyn would also have grown up a Spade, an almost sister to me, and then a literal sister when she and Kase married. My brow puckers. Would she and Kase have gotten together? Their romance had bloomed mostly because of adversity. Would they have fought so hard to stay together if circumstances hadn't torn them apart?
I'll never know. And part of me is grateful for that. Horrible as it is, this path led up to this moment. It brought me to Calamity. A man that I'm falling for against all sanity. I have to make sure Calamity makes it out of the coming confrontation alive. I won't let history repeat itself. I won't let my brothers become murders. Not over me. Not over a lie.
I'm contemplating just how to stop the meeting place from becoming the OK Corral when a distinct snap echoes from behind me. I turn, hands already flying up into a defensive posture so I can attack whatever's coming. But by the time I turn around, it's already too late.
Kylie stands behind me, a gun already aimed at me, a triumphant smirk plastered all over her rouged lips.
"Come with me, Spade," she says, cocking the gun with menacing clicks. She tosses something. My hands shoot out, catching a pair of steel cuffs with little effort. "There are some people who'd like to speak with you. Put those on."
My eyes long to dart back toward the Camaro. Calamity is still inside, still blissfully ignorant of the danger. She may not know he's in there, and I don't want to draw her attention to him. The vengeful harpy would probably shoot him, just to keep him from touching me ever again. She struck me as the possessive type.
