- Chapter Thirteen -

Conway

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I was a traitor.

I saw it on my face whenever I stared in the mirror. I could see it dancing in the deepest grooves of my irises. In the lines of my teeth and in the way I frowned.

I just wasn't sure whom I was betraying anymore.

October wind yanked at me as I stood by the cliff's edge. Unseen fingers begged me to fall forward, giving myself up to the hungry ocean.  It would be so easy-the action... not the consequences of the decision.

My suffering would end.

What about everyone else?

Reaching back, I felt my phone in my pocket. The messages from my father were sitting inside, though I'd longed to delete all of them. The last one had been a reply to the one I'd sent weeks ago.

Me: I've taken her.

Unknown: Then it's time to begin.

Clutching the device, I debated throwing it into the ocean.

“You looking for sunken ships down there?”

Lonnie. My eyes stayed fixed on the white foam that crashed below us.

He moved beside me, glancing in my direction, then down at the water. “If this is getting to be too hard for you, say the word. I'll take over.”

My eyes snapped to him. “What?” I asked.

“Taming Georgia. It's plain on your face that it's already taking its toll.”

“You and I both know that Dad demanded I be the one to do this.”

“He just wants her to be ready for him.” Lonnie was reading me, trying to get into my head and see my secrets. We both knew I had them. “If breaking the little peach down is too rough on your gentle heart, let me take over. Say the word.”

“Gentle heart,” I laughed. Holding my hands up, I showed him my palms. The skin was hardened by calluses that spoke of years of rough, physical work, some innocent, most of it not. “Lonnie, these hands are about as gentle as any other part of me.”

He smiled in a way that didn't touch his eyes. “You really expect me to believe you don't have a soft spot for her?”

I screwed up my face and let my hands bind into fists. “And if I did, would it matter? You know I have to do it. Stop trying to micromanage this like you're in charge.” My brother's baby-blue eyes hardened. “Dad is the one running this shit show. You're kidding yourself if you think he'd want anyone preparing her but me. He chose her to make a point... and everything he's telling me to do is no different.”

I'd freed Georgia years ago.

Now we were both suffering thanks to my so-called “gentle heart.”

Everyone talks about wanting to go back in time, thinking they can fix the one thing that led to their tragic present. But if I was given such an opportunity, where would I even begin?

My brother was watching me in that ruthlessly patient way of his. He reminded me of our father when he did that. “You always did have such a huge ego.”

I balked. “Excuse me?”

“You think this is all about you.” Tucking his hands into his khaki-colored pants, he stared out over the ocean. “Where do I fit into your worldview, hmm? Dad didn't just get in touch with you, Conway, he reached out to me as well.”

“Fuck,” I spit. “Lonnie, this situation is messed up for everyone involved. No one wants to be here.”

Ever so slowly, he shut his eyes and sighed. He sucked in the breeze, arching his neck, his spine, reveling in either the October weather or my observation. “You,” he said, opening one eye; the one that was pointed at me. “You still believe you know what's best for everyone you come in contact with.”

Stunned, I looked at him with new wariness. “Do you actually want to help our father?”

I'd seen him smile a number of times. This one lacked the insincerity I'd come to expect—it crinkled the edges of his eyes. “Did you know this was the first time he asked me to help?”

My heart struggled to beat, like a hand was grasping it. “What are you talking about?”

“All these years, he always asked you. Dad thought you could do no wrong.” A quick, rusty laugh escaped him. “Even after you let Georgia free! Even with me telling him over and over and over that she got away because of you, he still never asked me to be the one to help him with anything!” I became aware of how close we were to the edge—he followed my thoughts. “Relax, I'm not going to throw either of us onto the rocks.”

I took a full breath and let it out. “Lonnie, trust me, you were lucky that he never involved you. You were just a kid.”

“And after he made us run so he wouldn't get caught for kidnapping those girls?” The muscles in his forearms writhed. “When we got into Mexico... it was still you that he asked to do everything. Working with the smuggler boats on the docks, guarding doors from snitches. He even let you beat people if they were short on cash they owed! I was more than capable of those things.”

These were memories I wished I could forget. “Lonnie, none of that was stuff I wanted. Working for dad wasn't glorious.” I'd ached to run every single day.

But I couldn't. Not when there was a chance that he could get me something I needed. I'd told myself night after night that I stayed because he might hurt other girls. But I knew it was more selfish than that.

In the end, I hadn't had to serve as his rabid dog forever. The cartel did not like someone muscling in on their territory, small potatoes or otherwise. One drug set-up later and the dirty cops had happily thrown my father in jail on a good-as-life sentence. I was sure he couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

Then I'd gotten his message, and I'd known better.

“Glorious or not,” Lonnie whispered, “It was better than being treated like a burden. It's funny, you're a lot more like him than you seem to realize.”

This line of talk had thrown me. I shook my head side-to-side, sweat cooling on my throat. I hadn't seen my brother in over three years and I'd thought the only things that changed about him were his build.

But I was wrong. Very wrong.

My lips curled back over my teeth. “I'm nothing like that monster.”

“Dad protected us when he could have thrown us aside. He never abandoned us in Mexico when caring for himself solo would have been easier. He was always a family man... wanted us to stick together. All of us.”

“You talk like you worship him,” I said in disbelief.

“Don't get the wrong idea. I hate him as much as you do.” He started to walk towards the house. He stopped before he got far—his heels coming down with a sharp click on the rocks. “Hating him doesn't mean I think he shouldn't be admired. There's a lot I learned from that man.”

I watched Lonnie go inside. He'd always been unhinged, but maybe I knew less about his motivations than I thought I did. What did he mean, things to learn from Dad?

It was getting late; the icy wind numbing my ears and nose. Still I stayed by the cliff, trying to make sense of what had just gone down. Water slapped hard on the rocks. The beach below was invisible, the high tide drowning the place I'd kissed Georgia Mary King. It didn't matter that I'd looked on as she shivered with orgasm, jerking myself off on top of her perfect breasts.

It was that singular kiss that haunted me.

Scrubbing my fingertips over my mouth, I remembered the sweetness of her. Indulging in the memory was selfish... but I'd long ago accepted that was the kindest word I could stamp my soul with.

Georgia didn't deserve what was happening to her. Even so, the truth would do nothing for the girl. She'd begged me numerous times to tell her what was going on... and I couldn't.

I didn't deserve the grace of her understanding.

Turning, I walked back towards the house like I was heading to face the electric chair. I'd gained one positive thing, though, after all of my brooding. I finally knew what I'd do if I could go back in time. It was simple.

I'd make sure I was never born.