I was a means to an end. All the men I’ve dated—though they’ve been very few—wanted access to my father, or they wanted to please him. Nick, I thought, was different, but he was more guilty than any of the others.
As the interview winds down, my head is all but lolling. I am emotionally and physically drained. There isn’t much juice left in the tank.
“Are we almost done?” I don’t think I plead but I’m not sure.
It has been three hours since I got in here. They’ve offered water and coffee, both of which I turned down. Now, I wish I hadn’t said no to the water.
“Yes, we are.” Agent Ruiz’s eyes flick toward the mirror for a nanosecond before landing back on me. “Just a few more questions.”
He goes through questions about Lowell, Maggie, and my father again and again. He doesn’t bring up Nick again at all.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Cahill,” Agent Ruiz finally says.
I stand up on legs so unsteady that I need to hold on to the table for support.
“I advise you,” he adds, rising, “that the details of this investigation are classified. You are not permitted to discuss Mr. Smith’s role, identity, or the nature of this task force with anyone.”
“You have no authority over me, Agent Ruiz.”
“Ms. Cahill, this is not a hill you want to die on,” he warns.
“You know nothing about me, nor does your Agent Nick Smith. I have tolerated your questions, your invasion of my privacy—but I will not tolerate you dictating to me what and who I discuss my life with.” I straighten, mining strength from way deep inside of me. “I’m not a special agent. I’m a boring florist.”
With that, I walk to the door and wait for him to open it.
The door opens from the outside, and a blonde woman in a black suit is holding onto the door handle. Her face is stoic, but her eyes are burning. She doesn’t like me.
Well, girlfriend, I don’t like you, either.
“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Cahill.” Agent Ruiz tucks his hands into his pants and looks almost sheepish. “We’ll have someone drive you home.”
“No thanks. I’d rather Uber…or walk,” I tell him, ready to push past the blonde.
On impulse, without thinking it through, I turn and look at Agent Ruiz. “I won’t be talking about him to anyone, not because of what you said, but because I’m ashamed of myself and don’t want to announce to the world how gullible I am.”
I draw some air and let it fill my lungs, nourishing me.
“Tell him that even though what he did is morally reprehensible, I forgive him.” I smile sadly. “And once I forgive myself for letting a man like him into my life, I won’t be thinking of him ever again.”
I doubt he cares what I have to say or how I feel about him—after all, I wasn’t even a real person to Nick, just a way to get into my father’s inner circle. Get invited to play golf with the boys, get into my father’s house, and get into his head.
I understand that, but why did he have to get into my bed, too? Why couldn’t he have done this some other way? If he had, I wouldn’t have to go through what I am now, because nothing has been harder than admitting that the man who made love to me tenderly, held me, told me to be strong and reach for my dreams, never cared about me.
4
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
DOMINIC
Ihear what she says to Ruiz.
“Tell him that even though what he did was morally reprehensible, I forgive him.”
She said she forgives me, and maybe she does, but I can’t ever forgive myself.
Enya isn’t the first target whose bed I slipped into for an op—but she is the most innocent…beautiful, smart, sensuous…mine.
“Once I forgive myself for letting a man like him into my life, I won’t be thinking of him ever again.”
