Birch

How much longer are they going to keep her?

Pacing in front of my car, I couldn't stop glancing up at the police station. I watched the blue suits come and go, all of them wearing some sort of smug grin that I wanted to knock off their fucking jaws.

I hated this place. I hated everything about this fucking place. I had been dragged in here one too many times, only to be treated like an asshole that refused to open for a dick. They would threaten me with time behind bars, they would dangle my freedom over my head in return for information on my father and a clean pass out the other end.

As much as I didn't agree with my dad all the time, he was still my father. I wouldn't throw him to the wolves. That wasn't how I was raised.

“Birch, stop worrying, she's fine.”

“Fine? Fine? They let us go over an hour ago, but they still have her. Why?”

My father shrugged his shoulder, as if this entire thing was nothing and we were just waiting for our takeout order to be ready. “Trust me, she'll be out soon. They don't have shit, they can't keep her. Fuck, I hope they didn't ruin the house too much. I really hate cleaning up after a raid. We still have that cleaning lady's number right? Helen was it?”

How can he act so casual about this? Doesn't he see the danger here?

Even if he did, he wouldn't say it. That wasn't who he was. He was the man who always kept a level head. He didn't overreact, he never lost his temper unless he was pushed. And I had only seen him truly lose it a handful of times.

“I don't like this, I don't like this at all.” Clenching my hands into fists, I couldn't sit still. I had to move, I had to do something. Every second that Cyprus was still in that building, the more and more unhinged I felt. “I'm about to go in there and get her myself.”

Groaning, my father shifted in his seat and leaned his head out the window. “Get in and shut up. You aren't doing anything, especially going in there to make a scene. Let's go, in.” Jerking his head towards the driver's seat, I could feel the annoyance in his voice.

Ignoring his demand, I growled under my breath, unable to take my eyes off the building. “What if they're—”

“They're not. Get the fuck in the car, Birch.” His voice was sharp and stern, balancing between the father he was and the boss he needed to be.

Stepping to the driver's side, I looked up at the entrance before tugging the handle. Dropping into the front seat, I slammed the door shut frustrated and worried.

This was not what I wanted and it was the last thing my father or I needed. Cyprus shouldn't be there, she shouldn't be anywhere near this fucking place. I knew that and so did my father.

In the past we always had a heads up before a raid, and my father would send Cyprus out for a bit so she wasn't anywhere around for them to see her. I didn't know what went wrong this time. Our inside snitch, Miguel, he never called us to let us know they were coming.

I'm going to have to talk to him later, find out what the hell happened.

“Better? Does this help?”

“Yes, and you don't have to be a little prick about it.” Flipping his sunglasses down his forehead, he twisted his neck in my direction. “We both know how this goes, Birch.”

“Did they ask you about the Mangoletti's?”

“Yeah, the fuckers said they had reason to believe we're behind their disappearance.” Chuckling, my dad shook his head side to side. “I guess someone said they knew we had a meeting set up, and that we were the last ones to be with them. But the cop wouldn't tell me who ran their mouth. Not that it matters, I'll find out who it was.” His jaw clicked as he clenched his teeth and his mind wandered to all the different ways he could punish the rat.

They had said the same thing to me, trying to intimidate me into telling them everything. I refused, asking for my lawyer and sealing my lips shut. They didn't have anything to hold us on. There was no evidence in our house or the bar to prove we had ever been face to face with that family.

We weren't fucking stupid, that shit had been long destroyed. Lit on fire and turned to ash, it was like it never happened. No bodies had been recovered, no DNA or fingerprints would surface saying that we were linked to the missing father and sons.

The police had suspicions, but as evidence goes, they had shit. Hearsay was enough to give them probable cause to raid our home and arrest us, but without anything other than a snitch and his statement, we were freed.

So why do they still have Cyprus?

“You can't tell me that you're not even a little bit worried about this?” I couldn't hold back the strain in my voice or the fear I felt inside about Cyprus being in the hands of the police. “Why didn't Miguel call us? Why would they have her longer than us? She's not supposed to be here.”

This had been my fear, the only fear I had ever really had. I was afraid that if they found her, they'd take her, and I'd never get to see her again. I couldn't stand the thought of that. The mere idea that she could be stripped from my grasp hurt, it smashed my ice cold heart into tiny bits.

“Obviously he didn't know, Birch. Maybe their onto him, I don't know.” Rolling his eyes, he dropped his gaze into his lap. “But she's a smart girl, she'll probably do better in there than the both of us.” Taking out his wallet, my father flipped through the photos he had in the center slots. “At least this time they didn't take my pictures. I never did get back the one of you and Cyprus at the beach. You remember that day? When you guys were making that sandcastle and it collapsed right when your mother took the picture?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Smiling as I thought about that moment, my lids hovered in the memory, picturing Cyprus's smile and sun-kissed skin. God she had always been so damn beautiful. I could remember the way her hair smelled like salt and how her skin felt gritty like sandpaper. “Shit, I was what. . . fifteen, sixteen?”Arching a brow, I watched him from the corner of my eye. “How do you know they took it?”

“They took it, who knows why they did it, but they did.” Tipping his head up, he hummed as he thought. “It was back when they tried to slam me for the whole illegal container bit at the freight yard. Remember that?” Rolling his hand as he spoke, I recalled the incident he was referring to and nodded. “I've asked every time they dragged my ass back here and they pretend like they don't know what the hell I'm talking about.”

Why the hell would they take that picture? What could they possibly use it for?

What if. . . What if they. . .

My lids opened wide as I watched my father flip through his wallet. He couldn't see it, he was oblivious and too drunk on his own power to let himself see what could be happening.

“That doesn't make you think at all about what's going on?” Drifting my gaze back to the front doors, I painstakingly searched through the people going in and out. “Maybe they kept that picture for a reason.”

“Birch, this has to stop. You can't keep being so damn paranoid about it. It's been years, it's long forgotten. Trust me on that.”

I wanted to believe him, I've always wanted to believe him. But I could never shake the idea that one day our pedestal would crumble and everything would fall apart. Eventually shit would catch up to us. . . to him. We couldn't hide her forever.

But he didn't see it that way. There was no point in me trying to convince him otherwise. I didn't push it, I shifted the conversation to what really mattered right then. Where the hell was Cyprus?

“How long do we wait then? At what point are we going to do something about this?”

“If she doesn't come out, we go home.”

“What? Fuck that, I'm not just going home.”

“Birch, we'll go home, and we'll wait there. Either she'll call us when she's done, or she'll get dropped off. What's wrong with you?” Angling his head, he slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose, eyes scanning my face.

“You're really not worried? Not at all?”

His brows dipped angrily, as thick lines creased his forehead, and his mouth turned paper thin. “Birch, if I had a reason to worry, we'd already be long gone. Don't doubt her for a second, you can't. And don't doubt me, not with this.”

“I don't doubt her or you, but I don't trust them.”

“Fuck, when are you going to realize that they're not looking for her anymore? They haven't been looking for years now. No one gives a shit, they never did.” Tucking his wallet back into his pocket, he grabbed his bottle of water from the holder and took a long sip. “They're fishing, that's all this is. They want us, they want to lock us away. And they think they can use her to do it.”

“Fishing? They broke down our door, they ripped us out of the house, I think they're doing more than just fishing.” Running my palms up and down my thighs, I let out an audible breath. “Fuck, I hate this shit.”

“Look, look there.” Holding out his hand, a smug grin filled his face. “See, she's right there. What did I tell you?”

Following his finger, Cyprus was walking down the front steps. She was wearing a white jumpsuit, her eyes set on her feet as she made her way towards the parking lot. She looked so sad and upset, with her skin dull and chalky, her eyes swollen and dark.

Was she crying?

Did they make her cry?

Anger bubbled beneath the surface, my rage percolating in my veins with every thump of my heart. The cops were ruthless, they'd do and say anything to try and make you break. Cyprus looked broken, and I was ready to hunt down the bastard that hurt her and fucking kill him.

Jumping out of the car, I jogged across the parking lot. “Hey,” I said, slowing down once I reached her side. “What the hell happened? What's wrong? What did they say to you?”

Flicking her eyes up, she darted them away. “They really pressed me in there, the detective was a dick.” Shrugging her shoulder, she smiled. But it came across as forced, not genuine in any sense. “I didn't give him what he wanted, so don't worry.”

Cyprus tried to walk past me, but I stopped her. “Wait, what did they say to you? What did they ask?”

“I. . . I don't know. Nothing really. They asked a lot of questions, but I told them I didn't know what they were talking about.” Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she plucked at her bottom lip nervously.

She's lying. Why the hell is she lying to me?

“That's bullshit and you know it. What the hell happened in there?”

She couldn't pull this shit with me. I knew her way too well for her to try and act like everything was fine. Something was wrong.

The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, small red scratches clawed their way over the glossy orbs like shattered glass. Her muscles were visibly shaking, fingers bouncing and jerking as she did her best to steady her hand.

Taking in a deep breath, she stuffed her hands into her armpits and snapped. “Nothing, Birch, just drop it. Can we go now? I just want to go home.”

Running my eyes around her face, she wouldn't look at me. Her big brown eyes went to the sky, to the ground, to the cars around us. But not to me.

What did they do to you?

Watching her, it was easy to see that she had been through hell in there. She was trying to put on a brave face and act like her backbone was made of steel. But it was her eyes that made me realize there was far more to it than just a few dickhead cops who gave her a hard time.

This can wait. I can't jump down her throat, not here, not like this.

“Okay, let's go home.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, we started towards the car. Cyprus picked up her pace, slowly pulling free of my grasp. Her shoulder dipped, forcing my arm to slip off.

What the fuck is going on?

This isn't her, this isn't the girl I fell in love with.

Something is different. . .

Eyeing her cautiously, I let my hand fall to my side. I didn't try to reach out and touch her again. Something was off and I wasn't sure what it was.

Her back was stiff and rigid, hands anxiously twisting and twining in front of her waist. She kept shifting her head side to side, but she never took her eyes off her feet.

I couldn't figure it out. I didn't know what the hell was going on inside her head.

My father climbed out of the car and held the door open so she could get in the passenger seat. Waving her hand, she brushed off his generosity. “No, that's okay, I'll sit in the back. I need a little time to clear my head.”

Crooking his jaw, my father's lips turned down. “Sure, I understand.” Opening the rear door, Cyprus slipped inside with a tight smile and a nod.

Closing the door, my dad got back in without another word. I wasn't sure if he could sense what I was. There was no denying what I felt and saw. The woman who came out of that place was not my Cyprus.

“How did you get the car?” she asked, tucking her hands in between her thighs.

“Jerry helped with that after we called him.”

“Oh.” Cyprus turned her head to the window, ending the weak conversation.

The drive home was quiet, none of us spoke. Cyprus had her chin resting on her palm, eyes glued out the window. Dad looked straight ahead, every so often fiddling with the radio or the cuff links on his suit.

And I stared out into the distance, allowing muscle memory to get us home. All I kept thinking about was what they did to my girl in there. I was afraid they had fucked her brain up, warping her mind and pushing her away from us.

It wouldn't be hard for a seasoned detective to manipulate his words and cross you over the bridge to his side. It didn't work on me, but I was trained for that type of pressure. Cyprus wasn't. We never planned on her being brought in for questioning. We failed her in that regard, never giving her the tools she'd need to stand up in a situation like that.

Cyprus was strong as hell, she had a great head on her shoulders. But we kept her at arms length from some of this shit for years. All she ever heard was stories. We filled her head with the knowledge of what we did, and how dangerous it was. But we never let her get close until now. The Mangoletti family was her first real experience like that.

I knew it was a risk when she came with us. And to be honest, I didn't think it was going to end the way it had. But they fucked with us, they wanted to barter with my woman.

They deserved what they got.

Parking the car, I heard both doors open and close before I even had time to pull the keys free.

What the fuck is going on here?

Running my fingertips up and down the length of the key, I watched my father and Cyprus as they entered the house. He rubbed her shoulder, speaking inaudible words into her ear. She smiled and nodded, her muscles tensed and tight as she pulled from his hand too.

It's like she doesn't want to be around us. What the fuck did they say to her?

Raking my fingers through my hair, I sat alone, confused by the person who came out of that building. That wasn't my girl, that wasn't the woman I fell in love with.

My Cyprus would have given me a kiss when she came out of the station, she would have embraced me with a warm hug and bright smile. She would have told me every single word they used and how they said it.

That's not what she did. She had shut down, she refused to even indulge my questions about what happened.

Gripping the keys in my palm, I squeezed. The metal cut into my skin, but it didn't feel it. Warm blood trickled down my wrist, and all I could feel was the anger ravaging my insides. Someone had gotten into her head, someone had methodically placed information in her brain about us, about who we were.

That was the feeling I got from how she was acting. She was cold and removed, withdrawn from the people she had loved before the police got their hands on her.

Could they know? No, it's not that, it can't be that.

They probably filled her head with loads of shit, making her think we're evil. And that wasn't entirely wrong, but it was misplaced. We were bad, we did things that the law didn't agree with.

But we did it because that's how this shit worked. We all had a set of rules to follow, and those that went against the grain, they got what was coming to them. It's not like they didn't know the risk, it's not like the pricks we dealt with were oblivious to the end result of screwing us over.

I'm going to change her mind, I'm going to make her remember who we are—who she is. I'm going to bring her back to me.

Storming into the house, my father was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of whiskey. His back was to me, head hanging down as he eyed his glass.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“What?” he asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

“Cyprus, what the hell is her problem?” Checking over my shoulder and around the stairs, I made sure she was out of earshot. “Can't you see it? Isn't she acting different?”

“Birch, she just went through her first interrogation, she's a bit worked up. Remember the first time they took you in? You weren't exactly king shit in there.”

“Dad, this isn't the same. Something isn't right—”

Cutting me off, he swirled his glass in the air. “Don't worry, she'll be fine. Come, have a drink with me, it'll calm your nerves.”

Stalking to his side, I whispered through clenched teeth. “How can you know that? What if it's something else, what if they—”

“They didn't. If they did, where the hell do you think we'd be? Do you think I'd be standing here pouring this shot? Do you think you'd be talking to me right now?” Slugging his drink, he exhaled a hard breath. “It's fine, just give her a little time to get her shit together.”

Scrubbing my jaw, I glared into his eyes. “Let's hope her getting her shit together doesn't mean her fucking mind opening up and giving her the answers.”

“Fuck, Birch, I'm not doing this right now.” Slamming the glass down on the counter, he snarled. “I'm not doing this shit anymore with you.” Stepping into my chest, he threw up a finger and poked me in the temple. “Get it in your goddamn head, no one is looking for her anymore. But if you keep talking about it, if you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, that's when the problems will come in.” Flaring his nostrils, his lids hooded, mouth taut.

We stood toe to toe, chest to chest. A father and his son, each demanding to hold the power. He was trying to get me to back down, to bow my head and agree like a good son should. But I couldn't.

“The problem won't be me. It never was me.” Stepping in a hair, I brought my lips to his ear and whispered. “The problem was you. It was always you. Everything that happened was because you lost control.”

Shaking my head, I watched his eyes glaze over. I waited. I waited for him to react, to fill my ear with threats of a bullet in the head if I didn't keep my mouth shut. My father might be calm with the men he dealt with, but when it came to me, he had no problem letting it free.

In one quick motion, my father socked me in the jaw. I knew what I said would get to him, calling him out with the truth and not the fucking lies he had tried to mold into the reality we lived with for years.

All of this was because of him. Period.

“You ungrateful piece of shit.” The veins in his forehead throbbed, angrily pressing against the skin in an act of threat. “Fuck you.” Grinding his teeth together, his hands hung in tight fists by his side.

But he didn't hit me again. Taking a long step around my body, he stalked out of the kitchen.

I was tired of pretending. I was done playing his game. If the sky came crashing down on us, I wasn't going to be there to catch him.

There was a woman I loved, a woman I would do anything for.

I knew from the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes; she needed me.

And I was going to have to work to get her back.