Thirty-Four

 

Dillinger

 

These parties were fake. Just another excuse for these fakes to get loaded in his penthouse on his dime. Dillinger walked throughout the home, alone, commanding every room the second he walked in. It wasn’t about the fancy tailored suits, or his sharp expression. It was more than that. It was a primitive command, the kind not many men possessed. The kind he found immediately in Remy Martinez.

He found him seated on the sofa with Olivia. Dillinger pretended to wind his pocket watch, peering down, but really, he was watching her from the corner of his eye, wondering if she was happy.

He was always watching her. Always trying to protect her. Why else arm her with the best of the best like Shane? Or find the best husband he would have bet his soul would die fighting for her? Everyone kept thinking they were smarter than him. That they had these grand secrets. That Dillinger didn’t know.

But he knew.

Dillinger knew everything.

He kept his feelings locked away, but he still felt them. The difference between him and Reaper was that he’d gone further down that apathetic road than him. He’d become empty. Full tank empty. Not the kind of empty where you get to the bottom and there’s still something left. Because that kind of empty can be saved. Like Reaper. He had been that kind of empty. And he’d been wise reaching for his daughter, knowing she was the only one that could save him.

See, Dillinger could have been saved too.

But he let that woman go twenty-four years ago.

And now he was empty.

Olivia was his everything. But nobody knew that. Not even she did. It was best that way. He didn’t have to show emotion that way. He didn’t have to speak it, either. He didn’t have to make warm gestures. He could simply feel these things and remain alone, intact, in the background.

He watched her from the corner of his eye sitting on the couch, holding Sonja’s hand. They caught up on everything together. They missed each other fiercely. Sonja had been so dejected without her.

Reaper was drawing circles on Olivia’s knee, looking at her with the most serene expression. He loved her. They were good together, Dillinger knew. Shane stood beside him as they watched the couple.

“Reaper’s not from here,” Shane said. “He just purchased a penthouse.”

Dillinger nodded. “Sure.”

“Olivia’s been talking about opening a housing facility for the homeless.”

Dillinger resisted smiling. Of course she would. Her business degree wasn’t going to be entirely useless.

“Do you even fucking care, Dillinger?” Shane snapped, already fuming. “Ever since she was little, you’ve been looking at her with that fucking face.”

“What face?”

“Bored. You look bored. Like you don’t give a fuck.”

Dillinger didn’t respond. He simply patted Shane once on the shoulder and walk further into the room, rounding the couch, glimpsing over at Olivia, watching her laugh. His heart squeezed. Reaper caught his eye. They looked at one another for a few beats.

Reaper still thought he didn’t know.

Dillinger smirked darkly at him.

Dillinger knew Olivia wasn’t his, but that never made a difference.

He was just looking for a kid on the street to save.