“What? No. That’s— No.” I’m not making sense, but neither is what Cav is telling me. I blink back the tears stinging my eyes at those horrible moments in the hospital as Cav nods slowly, letting me take in the truth.
“Yes. She was collateral damage. She was wearing your sweatshirt. She had the hood up. Donnigan thought he got you.”
“Why? Who would do something . . . I don’t understand.” A hit? On me? I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe. “How?”
“Your brother was slashing and burning his way through companies. Hostile takeovers. I’m sure you remember.”
Oh, I remember. Creighton wasn’t a popular guy then or now. He’d built his empire by acquiring companies that were ripe targets, whether they wanted to be acquired or not, and then tore them apart, selling the unprofitable pieces and then installing new management teams to turn a profit. I know this because I’m the majority shareholder of many of them through my trust. The day Tracey died—was killed—I was signing paperwork for another new acquisition.
But none of this makes sense.
“The moment you said it should have been me, I knew something was off. Dom had me watching you for a reason. You took too many risks, and your brother had too many enemies. Creighton was so deep in his business, he didn’t realize what kind of danger you could be in, which is why Dom stepped in. I guess he felt like it was something he owed Creighton. I went to Dom about Tracey, and he started digging. That’s how I found out about Donnigan and the hit. Three days after the accident.”
My mind races to recall three days after the hospital. Tracey’s funeral. And the next day, Cav stood me up, leaving me waiting alone on the Top of the Rock.
The accusations leveled by Cardelli at Rikers this morning add to the puzzle pieces snapping together in my brain as Cav continues.
“According to Donnigan, an owner of a company Creighton took over had connections to one of the Irish families, and decided to take something from your brother the same way he felt his company had been stolen. And what he decided to take was you.”
The layers of shock are piling on, and all I feel is numbness. It’s as if I’m standing outside my body and watching the scene from a few steps away. This isn’t really my life. This isn’t really happening.
“So you killed him.” The words come out remarkably calm, but instead of a question, it’s a statement.
Cav answers anyway. “Yes. Because I knew he’d come back after you as soon as he realized he’d gotten the wrong girl. I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”
Leaning on the counter for support, I stare at him. There’s no remorse in Cav’s expression.
“And then you left town without a word.”
“Yes.”
“Because you killed someone.”
“To protect you.” Cav’s hazel gaze drills into mine. “I would’ve done anything to protect you.”
My knees shake, on the verge of giving out, and I yank the stool over and collapse onto it. “You killed him. To protect me. And then you left.”
“I didn’t go to Dom until it was done. He cursed me for being a stupid son of a bitch, even though he would’ve ordered it done anyway. But the trail needed to be covered. Someone had to take the fall. And for some misguided reason, he wasn’t gonna let me take the rap for it.”
Another stab of pain pierces my heart. “You would’ve gone to prison. Like Cardelli. For life.”
“I know.”
In my head, my lawyer’s brain says Cav should be the one in prison, but the rest of me is telling it to shut the hell up. “He was going to kill me?”
Cav nods. “Absolutely. He wouldn’t get paid until he’d completed the contract.”
I had been a contract. Jesus fucking Christ. How is that even possible?
“So you framed Cardelli,” I murmur, looking down at the file before me.
“He’s a rapist and a murderer in his own right. He raped a waitress out back behind one of Dom’s clubs three nights before. Put her in the hospital. Dom wanted him off the street, and it fell together. Prison or death—that was his choice. So he went down for the murder.”
Everything Cav is saying is so unbelievably foreign to me, I don’t know how to comprehend it.
Street justice. Is that what this was? Honor among thieves?
It doesn’t change the fact that my boyfriend is a murderer.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t . . . fuck, Greer. I didn’t want you to know.”
My gaze lifts to Cav as he shoves his hands into his hair.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I don’t know why the answer to that question matters so much to me, but it does. I need to know. Would he have kept this from me forever?
He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them. “You want the truth?”
My heart hammers in my chest.
“Yes.”
“I never wanted to tell you. This isn’t something you need to understand or know exists. You live in a bubble, Greer, and I would do everything in my power to keep it untainted. I never wanted you to feel what you’re feeling right now. I wanted to protect you from everything, even myself.”
Pain radiates through my chest, like it’s cracking open as he continues to speak.
“But when I saw that file yesterday, it was the sign I needed to know I was making the wrong choice. I can’t keep the past buried forever, no matter how much I wish I could. I knew I had to tell you the truth.”
How can I believe him? My judgment has been flawed every step of the way. Bad decision after bad decision, just like I told Holly. How can I trust myself to know what to feel about this?
I slide off the stool and pick up my discarded bag from the floor. “I have to go.”
“What? You’re not—”
“I have to go,” I repeat, more forcefully this time. “I need to think. I can’t be around you right now.”
Cav’s jaw tightens. “You’re walking away. Now that you know everything, you’re walking away.”
I squeeze my eyes shut because seeing the shattered expression on his face unleashes wave after wave of pain inside me.
I bump into the door and grab the handle. “What else is out there, Cav? What other huge secrets are you keeping? The hits keep coming, and I don’t know how many more I can handle.” My voice is shaking, and my need to flee is growing.
I have to get out of here.
“Nothing, Greer! There’s nothing else. You know it all. Except maybe this.” His gaze intensifies as I brace myself for another blow. His voice is steady and firm. “I would do it again to protect you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I loved you then, and I fucking love you now. If you can’t love me knowing that I’d give up everything to keep you safe, including spend the rest of my life in prison, then this is over. There’s nothing here to fight for.”
And that’s the blow. The one that catches me in the stomach and sends me stumbling out the door, tears falling from my eyes.