Low didn’t talk to anybody for the next three days. He kept his ass up in Ronna’s guest room, either covered from head to toe in bed, or standing at the window, staring outside. Ronna brought him food and gave him some of Kelly’s clothes to wear after he showered. She took care of him, his sister. No questions, just her presence, her availability to talk if he ever wanted to. He’d asked for space and for the most part his family gave him space.

Not Atta though. She came by every day, starting minutes after Low sent Renzo away. Every time he refused to see or speak with her. Bad enough he had to deal with Renzo. He didn’t want to listen to her excuses for why she never told him about his biological father.

On the fourth day, he forced himself from the bedroom to hang with his nephew. All the time he’d spent locked up in the room he’d ignored Amir.

“Low.”

He looked up from playing video games with Amir—and munching on some guava cheese and groundnut sugar cake one of Kelly’s aunts brought back from Grenada— to glance back at Ronna standing behind the couch, over his shoulder.

“Somebody come to you.” Her eyes telegraphed her apology.

“Lemme guess—”

“Is you mother.”

Of course. Well, at least she wasn’t giving up. Fuck it. He might as well get it over with. “Wey she dey?”

Ronna motioned behind her. “On the deck.”

He turned back to his nephew and patted his head. “I’ll be back in a bit, buddy. Okay?”

Engrossed in his game, Amir barely nodded in his direction. A smile twisted Low’s face as he walked away. Ronna touched his arm as he passed. “Listen to her, okay?”

Did he have a choice at this point? He grunted in assent and made his way through the kitchen and out to the deck. His mother sat in one of the four wrought iron chairs surrounding a round table Ronna kept out there. Bundled against the forty degree temperature in a belted black coat with a faux-fur collar that brushed the floor as she sat, her hair pulled away from her face in a low bun.

She was beautiful, his mother. But today she looked stressed. He didn’t remember the fine lines framing her mouth, or the bags under her eyes the last he’d seen her.

“Lowell.”

“Mommy.”

“I’m sorry.” With her face tipped upward, her gaze on him, he saw the honesty. He heard it, too. “I’m so sorry.”

“When I came to your office that day, I was so happy, Mommy. I wanted to tell you about Renzo. I wanted to tell you I loved someone and that someone loved me back.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I know.”

“You knew about me and him the entire time.”

“Yes.”

He took a deep breath then let it out. “So, tell me about you and Renzo.”

The chair scraped when she leaned forward. “We team up to help rescue victims of sex traffickers.”

He’d known going in that Renzo was involved in guns and a whole bunch of criminal shit, he’d never once heard about sex trafficking. “What exactly does he do with those victims?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Atta blinked up at him then shook her head slowly as understanding dawned on her face. “You didn’t ask.”

“He kept your secrets. His loyalty is to you, so I’m asking you.”

“They manufactured his reputation.” Atta shrugged. “He needed to have a certain criminal element so that nobody would question it when he started inquiring about girls for sale, you know?”

He remembered Renzo telling him about that when he’d confessed to being an FBI agent. Low had figured he knew everything about Renzo at that point. He was a goddamn fool. He slumped against the closed door. “What he went through as a child—”

“Is the reason he’s doing this now. He had nobody to help him, he wanted to be that help for others.” She stopped abruptly. “He should be the one telling you this, Lowell.”

“Just tell me, Mommy.”

So she did, detailing their methods of rescuing victims, Atta’s role in it, and the lengths they went to in order to protect the victims. Like giving them jobs and new identities if they wanted, relocating them, too. Renzo did all of that while battling his own demons. It must be so hard, reliving his own trauma even as he helped others overcome theirs.

And he did all that without sharing it with Low.

Fucking man. How does he claim to love Low but refused to share his burdens with him? Wasn’t that what they were supposed to be doing, sharing their lives?

“He told me about Kenton. What do you know about that?” he asked his mother.

Atta’s face turned ashen. She dropped her hands into her lap and started twisting her fingers around each other. Low tensed, watching her carefully as she started speaking.

“Kenton couldn’t find a job, so he came to me,” she said softly. “I recommended him to Renzo. He needed somebody to get information on a gang he thought was running guns. Kenton said yes.”

Kenton wasn’t that guy. Why would she think he’d be good at spying?

“He did good,” she told him hoarsely. “He was good, Low. Those people came to trust him.”

“He still ended up dead in an abandoned mall parking lot in East Point.”

“They followed him when he went to meet with Renzo one night.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “Is my fault. I brought Kenton to Renzo. I’m the reason he got shot.”

He didn’t want to hear about her guilt, so he changed the subject. “My father.”

Atta’s head jerked up.

“Tell me about him,” he told her hoarsely. After everything Renzo had told him about Monster, knowing now that he had been the one to father him sat on Low’s chest. Maybe Renzo had been right. Maybe Atta needed to be one to tell him this. Already he wished he didn’t know as much as he did.

“I met him in London. We spent a week together then I left.” She shrugged. “We both knew it was nothing serious. But I got pregnant. Your fath—Noel knew right from the start that you wasn’t his.”

Low’s entire body jerked. “He-He knew?”

“Noel knew. He accepted you, Lowell. He loved you as his own.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I didn’t see Alistair for years after that. He called me up when you were about sixteen. We met in Chicago. I went to him. We had a thing.”

Low’s stomach churned. He fought to keep his disgust off his face, but he must not have managed it, because Atta shook her head.

“He was wonderful with me,” she said softly. “Treated me like the queen I am. I didn’t love him the way I loved Noel, but I cared for him and I believed he cared for me.”

“So you didn’t know who he was?”

“I didn’t.” A cloud fell over her expression and she looked away from him to gaze out over the backyard. “About a year after we reunited, a man broke into our place.”

Low sat up straighter.

“That man was Renzo Vega.” Her voice shook, starting out as a fine tremor and building. “Alistair didn’t recognize him at first, he thought we were just being robbed. The look on his face.” She returned her anguished gaze to Low. “The look on Renzo’s face. I knew his presence was personal. He was shaking, struggling to hide the physical reaction he had every time Alistair would speak.”

Jesus. Low ached for his lover, but he also couldn’t hide the guilt. His father. That monster was his father.

“When Alistair finally realized who Renzo was, he tried—” Atta bit her lip. “He tried to control him. Using certain phrases, some in Portuguese, I think. Renzo shot him in the stomach, made him admit it. Made him tell me what he’d done.” Her lips trembled. “I threw up all over myself, all over Renzo. I thought of you, and the rage, the rage inside me was so hot. I couldn’t think.”

He wanted to comfort her, but Low couldn’t move. Her words kept him strapped to the chair, listening to every horrific detail.

“He ran a whorehouse filled with underage girls, something I also didn’t know about.” She stared down at her hands. “I’d grabbed a knife from the kitchen when Renzo came in and I-I stabbed him.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper of sound. “I stabbed Alistair. Renzo tried to stop me, but I just kept seeing your face, I kept imagining having to have this conversation someday, and I lost it.”

When the tears finally rolled down her cheeks, he went to her, kneeling at her side, burying his face in her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“He-He died there on the kitchen floor,” Atta told him. “And I was complicit in his murder.”

“What?” Low jerked away from her. “That can’t be right. He was a monster, Mommy.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But Renzo and I took the law into our own hands.” He wiped her face as she continued speaking. “Right there, next to Alistair’s body, Renzo told me not to worry. He’d protect me. He’d cover up my part in it. Just keep my mouth shut and he’d handle it.”

“But you didn’t.” He knew his mother.

“I wasn’t going to let him take the blame for ridding the world—you—of a man like that. I said no, we were partners. He was FBI, he told me, and he had people who would make it all go away. They did. I wanted to do more. I wanted to help, to make up in some small way for what Alistair had done. For my part in it.”

Low frowned. “You didn’t have any part, Mommy. Is not like you knew what he was doing.”

“Maybe I should have known, I dunno.” She looked weary suddenly, beaten down, and the sight of her like that alarmed the fuck out of Low. “We came up with a plan while we were waiting for the FBI to come and remove Alistair’s body. I would take over the brothel, but it would be our cover for Renzo’s operation.”

“Wait.” He got up off his knees and retook his seat. “So, it’s not a proper brothel?”

“No, it is. It has to be operational if we want this thing to work, but the women who work for me are all there out of their own free will. All are of age and none come from the trafficking world. Most use it as a stepping stone to bigger, better things. Anytime they want out, they get out with help from Renzo and me.” She smiled. “They get a ten thousand dollar lump sum, seed money for whatever is next on their journey.” Her face twisted. “We stole the money from Alistair that night as well. He was wealthy, his people came from oil.”

Jesus.

“Alistair didn’t know about you,” she told him. “He thought Noel was your father and I didn’t change his mind. Mostly because I didn’t want to disrupt your life, but now I’m so thankful I didn’t tell him.”

He closed his eyes.

“It’s a lot, I know.” Atta took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry I told Renzo to wait. I wanted to be the one to tell you, but I just wasn’t ready. How could I ever be?”

Good question. Another one was, how did Low feel, knowing all this?

“Do you remember when you first came to see me, when you learned about the brothel?” Atta asked.

Low’s eyes popped open. How could he forget? He’d learned it from Kenton, who’d had no idea Low remained clueless about his mother’s business.

“Renzo saw you that day, wanted to know who you were. Up until that point, all he knew was that I had a son with Alistair. We never talked about it. You weren’t a factor in anything, but he saw you that day and I asked him to back off.” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I probably wasn’t.”

“He did what I asked, Low. He stayed away for three years.”

Until that night in the bar. “You didn’t think he was too old for me?”

She shrugged. “I never even thought about it.” She pursed her lips. “I know him, Low. I saw him at his lowest when he confronted Alistair. I see him struggle every day and still give his everything to those poor souls he helps. He is complicated and bruised, but Renzo is a good man. He loves you, and all I want for my children is a good partner who loves them.”

“When did you know I was gay?”

“I don’t know, I just did.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “You never had a girlfriend. Never talked about seeing anyone. I just figured you’d tell us when you were ready. It never mattered to me. You is a good son. I’m proud of you.”

“I was scared,” he told her. “I didn’t want Daddy to hate me.”

Atta blinked. “What you mean? Noel would never have hated you.”

“I heard him one day. He was talking to his friends,” he said. “They were drinking and laughing at gays on TV.” He told her about the incident he’d witnessed.

“Maybe he was being facetious. Maybe he was saying things because of the company he was in.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t make it right, but I don’t believe for a second Noel wouldn’t have accepted you, Low. Like I accept you.”

He wanted to believe that. He ached to believe it. Low buried his face in his hands. “I thought Grantley was my father.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry. I wanted you to know, Grantley and I were never lovers. I thought he was a friend, but we were never like that.”

“Jesus. Does Ronna know?”

“She does.”

“What happened to him anyway?” He lifted his head. “Andy and Kenton put him in the hospital and then he just disappeared?”

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “You should talk to your man.”

Of course. “He’s everywhere, isn’t he?”

“He is a good man, Low. He loves you. He wanted to tell you everything, but I told him to wait. I told him I wasn’t ready. Blame me,” she begged him. “Blame me, not Renzo. He’s loyal to me, yes. But he loves you and that comes over everything else.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “You go tell Ellen is me what send Kenton to work for Renzo?”

“So she can hate both of us, and Renzo? Does she need to know? Would that help you with the guilt?”

She didn’t answer.