“Oh my god, oh my god,” I murmur to myself as I pace up and down the hallway. I’ve been at this so long I’m surprised I haven’t worn a path into the old wooden floors by now. I glance up at the antique clock ticking away on the wall, my stomach churning with nervousness. I have lost track of how long Sal’s been gone, but I know it’s been too long. I’ve been trying to reassure myself that he can handle whatever he encounters out there. I mean, he’s a hitman for the mafia. Well, at least he’s a former hitman for the mafia. He’s got enough kills under his belt to make him way more dangerous than anyone else he runs into. That’s got to count for something, right?

Still, I can’t stop worrying. I know it’s unhealthy, but I can’t help but feel incredibly anxious and fearful when he’s not nearby. I worry for his safety. He may have recovered quickly enough from that bullet that swiped his arm and that blow to his face, but he’s still so reckless and courageous that it scares me. I know this is probably just run of the mill business for him. A day of reconnaissance and ass-kicking is probably just another day at the office for a tough guy like Sal. But I still can’t keep myself from obsessing over all the things that could go wrong.

And apart from worrying about Sal, I also worry about myself.

It’s crazy. As soon as he leaves the room, I feel absolutely compelled to follow him, to cling to him like he’s a life preserver and I’m floating adrift in the open sea with sharks circling under the surface. When he’s gone, I don’t even feel like myself. I feel broken and afraid, a shell of who I used to be. I mean, before all this happened with Blake and my father and Geoffrey Mink, I considered myself a pretty independent, tough lady. If there was a spider in my apartment, I took care of it. If some rude guy was harassing me at work, I handled it. If my landlord tried to pull something over on me and charge extra one month, I stopped him in his tracks and told him exactly where he could stick that extra charge. Of course, underneath all that toughness, I have always been vulnerable. Touchy, even. But until now, nobody has managed to get under my skin far enough to reach that part of me. And now that Sal has chipped away at the brick walls around my heart, there’s no going back.

I know I’m falling for him.

Whether it’s stupid or brash or whatever, I can’t stop this train from rolling down the tracks. This is my reality now. Pacing in the hallway of a broken-down safe house, waiting for the man who saved me to return in one piece from whatever risky adventure he’s off on out there in the world.

At the click of the front door, I stop pacing and freeze, my eyes going wide with fear. Is that Sal? Or some stranger trying to break in? Maybe it’s that nosy Officer Kennedy back to snoop around while Sal’s not home.

I crouch down and creep over to the window, parting the blinds just enough to peek out. My shoulders relax when I catch a glimpse of the car in the driveway. Sal’s car. Thank god. I hurry to the front door to meet him, grinning ecstatically. Every time he returns to me in one piece, it’s cause for celebration in my book. But my smile quickly fades when I see the grim look on his face. I reach up and caress his cheek, my anxiety rushing back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? How did it go?” I ask. He sighs.

“It went okay. I’m fine. I handled the situation. But Eva, we have a new problem and I’m not sure how to phrase it to you so I’m just going to say it,” he begins, his voice dangerously serious. Sorrowful, even. “The man I interrogated tonight informed me of another deadly plot orchestrated by your bastard half-brother.”

“What? What is it? What did Blake do this time?” I demand, wringing my hands. “Is he coming here? Did he somehow find out I’m alive? Oh god.”

“No, no. It’s got nothing to do with you this time. As far as I can tell, Blake still believes you’re dead,” he says quickly.

“Then what?” I exclaim.

“It’s your father. Did you know he was gravely ill?” Sal asks.

My heart skips a beat. “Yes. Well, no. I knew he was some kind of sick, but I didn’t know how bad it was. Is it bad? Oh, it’s bad, isn’t it?” I ramble, biting my lip.

Sal nods. “Yes. He’s in the hospital. Has been for some time, apparently.”

“The hospital?” I breathe, scarcely able to comprehend it.

“In a coma,” he adds softly. I look up at Sal, horrified.

“That’s… that can’t be true. He was sick, but he wasn’t that bad when I saw him. I know it’s been a month, but he can’t be in a coma,” I say, shaking my head.

“It’s true. And that’s not the worst of it,” Sal says. “I need to prepare myself. Follow me while I explain.” He walks briskly across the house to the bedroom, where he starts stripping out of his clothes and changing into an all-black outfit, then hurriedly packs up a bag with weapons. So many weapons that it makes me wince to see them. As he gets ready— for what, I don’t know— he explains. “Blake is impatient. He wants your father dead sooner rather than later.”

“What? But Blake… Blake was raised by my father. They’re close. He got everything, the picture perfect life, the yachts, the cars. He had everything I could never even dream of, growing up,” I retort, confused. “Why would Blake want to hurt him?”

“Because he cares more about money than family,” Sal says simply. “He can’t wait for your father to die so he can swoop in and take all his assets. Besides, in a family like theirs, I imagine Blake spent much more time being raised by nannies than by his own father.”

My mood darkens, thinking of Blake taking so much for granted. My mother and I scrounged for everything we ever had, working hard, skipping meals, trying to make something of our lives. We did everything we could, just so I could go on and slowly work on becoming a nurse.

The money my father had would have solved almost all of our problems, but it’s more than that. It isn’t just the wealth, it’s what being a real family could have done. I could have had someone when mom passed. I could have grown up with two parents who loved and spoiled me.

Bitterness grips my heart until I realize that I like who I am, and if my father had been in my life, everything would have been different. There’s the butterfly effect, but then there’s a man being in my life since I was born, the ripples touching every single aspect of my personality, of my world.

And if I like who I am, then I have to accept that I got the better end of the deal.

“So what is going on?” I press him.

Sal stops and looks at me apologetically. “He’s planning to have your father killed tonight. At the hospital.”

“What?” I burst out, feeling like someone has kicked the air out of my lungs. I fall back to the bed, weak in the knees. “That’s ridiculous!” I might not want to change the past, but to kill someone just for their money...

To kill his own father?

“Is it?” Sal says, raising an eyebrow. “Eva, he already hired someone to kill you.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know me. We’re strangers. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a perfect stranger who’s threatening his shot at inheritance,” I reason.

“Are you defending him?” Sal says, looking at me sidelong. I frown at him.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m not defending him. I’m just appealing to logic, here,” I reply, putting my hands on my hips.

“Look, I’m telling you the truth, but I don’t have time to stand here and try to convince you of how evil your brother is,” he responds.

“Half-brother,” I correct bitterly.

“Either way, he’s got a hit out on your father, and considering the fact that he’s a fragile old man in a coma, I don’t think he has much of a shot at defending himself from the attack,” he says. “So I’m going to the hospital. To protect him and stop that hit from happening. But I need to hurry. You stay here and keep your head down.”

“What?” I shout. “No! You’re not going to the hospital alone.”

“Yes, I am,” he says firmly. “It’s not safe for you. Eva, this isn’t Geoffrey Mink we’re talking about. This is another man. Perhaps even a team. Willing to murder a comatose old man for money. You cannot come with me. You’ll stay here.”

“Like hell I will!” I shoot back, throwing up my arms. “Whether or not this hit goes down, my father is lying in a hospital bed. If Blake doesn’t kill him first, his illness will probably end his life before too long. I am not going to miss this chance to see him before he dies.”

“I thought you had no relationship with him? He’s a stranger to you, Eva. It isn’t worth risking your life just to see him,” Sal lectures me. “Besides, he’s in a coma. He wouldn’t even know you were there.”

“I don’t care,” I say through gritted teeth. “This could be my last chance to see him. My last chance to say… what needs to be said.”

“Even if he can’t hear or understand you?” Sal says pointedly.

“Yes.”

“Even if it puts your life in serious danger?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I am warning you that this is absolutely the worst idea in the world?”

“Hell yes.”

Sal groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. I stare at him defiantly. “I trust your judgment, I really do, but this is my choice, Sal. He’s my father. Regardless of what our relationship is like, he’s my dad. I need to see him. It’s imperative.”

He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs. “Fine. You can come along. But you must listen to every word I say and do not disobey me for any reason.”

“Got it,” I reply.

“Now, let’s get going,” Sal says. “We’ve got a murder plot to divert.”

* * *

When we arrive at the hospital, it’s nearly midnight. I’ve been lying in the backseat of the car the whole ride, hiding out in my black clothing. The hospital has Christmas lights twinkling in the trees out front, reminding me that this is Christmas Eve. For all the children of the area, this is prime Santa time. They’re all probably lying in bed too excited to sleep, dreaming about the presents they’ll find under the tree in the morning.

Meanwhile, Sal and I are stealthily sneaking into a hospital the only way we know how: through the front door. We walk into the hospital, which has only a few lights still on dimly. Being that it’s Christmas Eve, there’s only a skeleton crew working tonight, and it’s eerie to see how empty and lonely the hallways are. Sal moseys up to a nurses’ station and sweet talks the elderly nurse into telling him what room my father is in. At first, I think he’s crazy. There’s no way that could work. But it does. Sal is so charming and handsome he could probably get any information out of anybody anytime. It’s impressive and a little bit frightening how convincing he can be. Still, the nurse tells him that it’s way past visiting hours, so we’ll have to come back in the morning. But that’s not the plan.

Once the coast is clear, Sal and I sneak down the hall and take the elevator upstairs, searching for my father’s suite. It doesn’t take us long to find it, the two of us pressed against the walls, peeking around corners, checking to make sure nobody is watching us. I’m sure somewhere there are video cameras rolling, but I have a feeling the security crew might be a little distracted and sleepy this time of night on Christmas Eve. They’re all probably antsy, thinking about how badly they want to go home and be with their families. I know the drill. I’ve pretty much always been at work over the holidays. It’s a lonely gig, working while all your coworkers are home enjoying themselves.

“Just down the hall there,” Sal whispers to me, his voice barely audible. The hallways are so quiet you could hear a pin drop, except for the occasional cough or groan from a hospital room or the beep of a machine. So we need to be silent.

I follow Sal down the hall to stand in front of my father’s suite. I stand in tiptoes to look through the little square window, and if I crane my neck I can just barely catch a glimpse of his body lying stiffly on a bed, a blue blanket pulled up to his chest. He looks so frail and small, nothing like the authoritative man from our legal meeting. I don’t know what illness he has, but whatever it is, it’s ruined him. Despite everything, it brings tears to my eyes. We may not be close, but it’s still difficult to see one’s father this way.

“I need to get in there,” I murmur. Sal puts a hand on my shoulder.

“No, Eva. That’s a bad idea and you know it.”

I turn to look at him, frowning. “Why? Why can’t I go see my father?”

“Because he’s got a target on his head and I’ll be damned if I let you stand in harm’s way,” he growls. “It’s not happening. You’ve seen him, now go back down to the car while I figure out how to stop this hit from happening.”

“No. Hell no. I’m going in there whether I have to pick the lock myself or not.”

Sal groans, shaking his head. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I didn’t come here and risk my life just to stare at him through the window. I need to be in that room, Sal,” I explain quietly. “The door is locked. How do I get in?”

He holds up a set of master keys and my eyes widen. “Where the hell did you get that?”

He smiles faintly. “I poached it from the nurses’ station while that old bird was gawking at me,” he explains. I roll my eyes and take the keys from him.

“You’re lucky you’re so good-looking,” I tell him, fiddling with the keys until I find one that fits in the door. It clicks open and I walk into the room. My father’s breathing is shallow, ragged. He’s hooked up to all kinds of machines. Normally, with my nursing training, I could probably make some sense of them. But this isn’t just some random patient. This is my father. My own flesh and blood. All I can do is stare at him and try not to cry.

Sal steps in behind me and locks the door. “Go ahead,” he says. “Say what you need to.”

Hesitantly, I pull up a stool and sit down by his bedside. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever gotten a good look at my father. He has the same straight nose I have, but apart from that, he looks nothing like me. It’s hard to believe that I’m related to him. This is the man who helped give me life and then turned away from me like I was nothing.

I try to be angry at him, but right now, all I feel is sadness.

“Hey,” I begin softly, reaching to take his cold hand. “It’s me, Eva. Your daughter. I know this is weird because we hardly know each other, but I had to see you for myself. Here’s thing: I want to hate you. In fact, I think when I was growing up, there were times I might have even succeeded in hating you. But honestly? I’m not even that angry. I’m just confused. And sad. I don’t know why you never wanted me in your life. I don’t know what happened to make you turn away. I’m sure if you were awake right now, you wouldn’t care about what I’m saying. But I’m going to say it anyway, and luckily, you can’t run away from me this time.”

I take a deep breath, looking at his wrinkled, peaceful face.

“My mother was a wonderful person, and I can’t even be that angry at you for abandoning me because it just meant I got to have my mom raise me. She made me the strong, tough, smart, independent woman I am today. I know I’m the kind of lady she’d be proud of, but I don’t know what you want for me. And it shouldn’t matter. You made it clear all those years ago that I don’t matter much to you. But still. You’re my father. I have spent way too long being angry and hurt and letting that pain make me bitter. Because of you, I have never really let anyone in. Never let anyone get close enough to know the real me. But you know what? I’m done with that. I’m finally learning what it feels like to be vulnerable, and it’s scary sometimes, but I think it’s good for me. I’m undoing all the pain you left me with. And that will probably make me a better person in the end,” I say.

I take another deep breath and continue. “Dad, I’m working really hard to forgive you. I want to. Not necessarily for your sake, but for mine. And if you ever wake up from this, I hope you’ll finally see me for who I am, for how well I have survived even without you in my life. But if you don’t wake up… just know that I may not forgive you right now, but I’m working on it. I don’t want to carry this anger forever. Please wake up. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, you and me. I don’t know if you want that, but I think I do. I think we could try.”

A tear rolls down my cheek and drops onto his hand. He doesn’t move. I sigh and look back, expecting to see Sal behind me. But he isn’t there. I’ve been so caught up in talking to my father that I somehow misplaced Sal. My heart starts to race. I don’t know where he went or why, but now that I’m alone with my father, it’s hitting me just dangerous this is. If my father is the target, then I’m standing directly in the crossfire.