TEN
There is a buzz working through his limbs. He isn’t shaking, isn’t letting fear overwhelm him, but there was a sense of dread, of wild terror that flashes scenarios of carnage through Vaughn’s mind.
The last early morning call his sister had sent him made Vaughn vomit. Death. Loss, it all came to him a year ago with Viv’s four words: “Sweetie, Daddy didn’t make it.” Now Vaughn expects another string of words that could undo him. Viv is the only family he has left. She is what remains of his only blood. If she were—no. He won’t let himself think that way.
At his side, Mollie has retreated back into herself. She keeps moving her gaze around the hallway, to the cops milling around. She doesn’t like them, he knows that, but there hadn’t been time to secure her anywhere. Bringing her to one of her friends would have raised too many questions and Vaughn didn’t trust the university’s security. They had started to hover around campus a week before and by the looks of them, Vaughn figured they were little more than rent-a-cops. So, he had been forced to keep Mollie with him. Besides, he had wanted to get to his sister.
Casting a quick look at her, at the way her eyes surf around the hall as they speed down it, Vaughn wonders if it was more than the presence of law enforcement that has her on edge. Back at the hotel room, he’d nearly had her completely. He’d wanted it. She’d wanted it, but now there is this strange awkwardness that keeps them from even incidentally touching. Initially, he told himself it was because he was worried about Viv. Maybe he hadn’t acted like he was as sorry as she seemed to be that they didn’t get to finish what they started. Whatever it was, Mollie is pulling away from him, not giving him any indication that she wants his touch. That stings more than he thought it would, but he doesn’t have time to figure her out right now.
“Sammy?” The security guard nods to Vaughn as they reach just outside of Viv’s office. He is one of the good ones, one Viv had brought with her when she was promoted out of the public defender’s office. What remained of his hair is white and curled tightly against his scalp. He is missing three of his bottom teeth and his green security jacket looks too snug across his shoulders.
Sammy claps Vaughn on the arm, his smile easy, and the gesture makes Vaughn relax just a bit. “She’s okay.” They walk through the front lobby of the D.A. offices and Sammy leads them past the secretary’s desk. “She was down in the parking garage and someone came at her. Thank God Emily was just behind her. Scared off whoever they were.” He opens the door for them and, spotting Mollie, he smiles. “How are you, pretty lady?” The old man’s flirting makes Vaughn smile. No way Mollie would be interested in a sixty-five year man, but the old bastard still seemed eager to try. “What you doing with this ugly son of a bitch?”
“Pity fuck,” Mollie’s says, not missing a beat. She earns a hard laugh from the old man.
“Oh, I like you, sweetheart.” His smile grows wider when she winks at him. “You tell me if this dumb Marine ain’t sweet to you. I’ll straighten him out.”
“I’ll be sure to do just that. Thanks.”
“Find your own girl, you old pervert,” Vaughn tells him with a grin, leading Mollie through the door and straight to where Viv reclines against a leather sofa. When she spots him, his sister slaps away the paramedic cleaning the blood from her forehead. But before Vaughn can reach her, Alex, Viv’s other assistant, steps in front of him.
“Mr. Winchester, how are you?” This guy always annoyed Vaughn. The asskisser liked to ride coattails; was a pleaser who didn’t have ambition beyond scheduling Viv’s meetings and seeing how far his sister would take him. Vaughn thought Alex hoped that Viv’s ambitions ran higher than D.A. in a small Tennessee town. He also looked a bit too scrawny, a bit too stupid to do more than answer Viv’s phone.
“I’ve been better.” He touches Alex on the shoulders and moves him out of the way. “Do you mind?”
Flushing, the guy steps back, worrying his tie before he finds Mollie hanging back. “And you are?”
“She’s with me. Leave her alone, Alex.” Vaughn wants to slap the stupid smirk off of Alex’s face.
Seeing Viv slumped against the sofa, Vaughn frowns, attempts his best “What were you thinking?” glare. “Don’t start. I’m fine,” she tells him. Vaughn doesn’t miss the way Viv stares at Emily, who sits on the other side of the sofa. “I told you not to call him.”
“I’m glad she did.” He passes a smile at the nervous young woman, who can’t seem to stop popping her knuckles. Unlike Alex, who has been Viv’s assistant for at least five years, Emily is quiet, very professional and respects his sister. That much he can tell by the way the girl hangs on her every word, how she matches the long hours Viv puts in. She is a tiny little thing, with a small nose and pale skin that flushes pink when he smiles at her. “Thank you.”
Viv moves her legs off the sofa and straightens up, again slapping at the paramedic. “It’s a scratch. Give me a butterfly bandage so I can go home.”
Relieved that she seems okay—the bitching was a great indication of that—Vaughn pulls her face toward him, examining the wound. “You might need stitches.”
“Stitches will scar. Stop babying me, little brother.” When Vaughn rests against the back of the sofa, Viv spots Mollie near the door, hanging back and trying to look invisible. “That her?” she whispers to Vaughn.
“Yes.” They both watch Mollie, and Vaughn smiles at how she twists her hair around her finger. It’s a nervous habit he’s noticed she does when she’s uncomfortable. Viv angles back when he whispers in her ear. “Don’t be a bitch.”
“As if I would.” Viv stands, smoothing down her black skirt. “Okay, everybody out. Go on, my brother’s here and he’ll see me home.” When Emily hesitates near Viv’s desk, his sister squeezes her hand. “Thank you. I’m sorry I yelled.” She opens her mouth, acts as though she might say something—likely another apology, but Viv waves her off. “It’s okay. Take tomorrow off. I am.” She walks Emily to the door and the stragglers descend, each moving out into the hall. Then Alex takes to shooing away the small crowd.
“You heard Ms. Winchester, everyone out.” He gives Mollie a scrutinizing glance that has Vaughn flexing his fist before Viv intervenes.
“You too Alex.” She nods him toward the door.
“But Ms. Winchester, you can’t possibly…”
“I can. I expect you in early tomorrow. Lots of calls to field.” The brownnoser looks superior, smug at that small delegation of power and he slinks away when Viv points at the door. Mollie follows after him, but Viv catches her arm, pulls her back. “You stay. This involves you.”
Mollie moves to Vaughn’s side when he makes room on the sofa and he unconsciously slips his arm on the back of the sofa, just above her shoulders. He tries not to shake his head at his sister when her eyes narrow at the movement.
Vaughn needs to distract Viv before any suspicious comments leave her mouth. “Viv, this is Mollie Malone.” He moves his chin toward his sister with his eyes on Mollie. “Mollie, this is my stubborn ass sister.” The women exchange nods, brief smiles, but Vaughn doesn’t let them commence with pleasantries. He wants details. “Did you get a good look at him?” he says to his sister.
“Brown hair.” Viv says this through a sigh, as though she’s had to repeat that bit information more than a dozen times tonight. His sister moves to her desk and opens the bottom drawer, pulling out a half empty bottle of bourbon and three paper cups. “I’d seen him before, a few weeks back hanging in the parking garage when I left.” Viv fills two cups then hesitates at the third before she looks at Mollie. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I didn’t memorize your file. You old enough to drink?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
Viv fills the third cup and nudges all three toward the edge of her desk. Vaughn grabs them, hands Mollie one.
“Tattoo?” Vaughn asks after taking a sip.
“Yep. On the left side. A snake.”
Vaughn catches Mollie’s gaze, notices that she blushes, moving her eyes down to focus on her cup.
“He his name is Jimmy,” Mollie offers and Viv looks at her, curious. “Tonight, at the pub, I met him. He was hitting on me. Vaughn ran him off because I was being stupid.”
“Mollie, you didn’t know.”
“I should have.” She takes another sip. “Daddy would kick my ass if he knew how irresponsible I’d been.”
Viv laughs, sits on top of her desk with her cup inches from her mouth. “That’s what daughters are supposed to do, honey. Give our daddies fits.”
They exchange a smile. Mollie looks to the door, possibly making sure it’s closed, then back to Viv. “Ms. Winchester…”
“Ha. Call her Viv. No one calls her Ms. Winchester but judges and her suck up assistant.”
Mollie grins, takes another sip of the bourbon before she continues. “I feel like I’m floating here, can you give me any information on this case? What is my dad doing for you?’
Viv eyes Mollie and Vaughn knows that look. His sister debating. “He’s going to testify. That’s all I can say.”
“Against the cartel or the club?”
Viv watches Mollie and Vaughn recognizes the cool way his sister’s eyes move off Mollie’s face, how she holds her cup to her bottom lip, barely touching her mouth. “I can’t…”
“He’s my father. He’s putting all of us in danger and you can’t tell me why?”
Viv sets her cup down, drums her fingernails on the desk before she stands in front of Mollie. “He doesn’t want me to. He made me promise not to tell you anything. I guess he figures the less you know, the safer you’ll be.”
“Stubborn ass.”
Vaughn can’t help but laugh at her. “That’s where you get it then?”
Mollie manages a smirk, but makes it vanish a second later. “Look who’s talking.”
When Viv clears her throat, obviously trying to put a damper on the mild flirting, Vaughn looks at her and tries to ignore yet another of her critical frowns.
“If you want to know details, you’ll have to ask Mojo.” Viv ignores the way Mollie shakes her head, how she slumps down on the sofa next to Vaughn, sighing.
“We can’t discuss that on the phone.”
Viv rounds to her desk and pulls out a credit card from her drawer before she slides it across the wood top. “Ask him yourself, take a road trip.” She nods to the red credit card on her desk. “Jackson’s not that far and I think it would be good for you to get out of town for a little bit.” She looks at Vaughn. “Both of you.”
Mollie begins to argue, she opens her mouth, frowning and Vaughn can’t help but wonder if it’s the idea of her being alone in a car with him that has her nervous. “What about my friends? They’ll ask.”
“You can’t tell them anything, Mollie. For their own good.”
Vaughn doesn’t like this, doesn’t want to leave Viv vulnerable. “I’m not going to leave you after you were attacked.”
Viv snorts. “You were gone from the time you were seventeen, little brother, and I managed to look after myself just fine. Besides, Sammy won’t let me out of his sight and the D.A. has put three uniforms on the house. I’ll be fine.” His sister hesitates. It’s only for a moment, a brief turn of her head that reminds Vaughn of her sneaking out of the house at seventeen and making a nine year-old Vaughn swear he wouldn’t rat her out. She’s got something on her mind and Vaughn doesn’t like how subtle she’s trying to be. “Listen, Mollie, you mind if I talk to my brother for a second? Family stuff that will only bore you.” Mollie sets down her cup and Viv walks her to the door. “Sammy will watch over you until Vaughn gets back. Don’t buy into his bull, though. I can pretty much guarantee he’s going to try to sell you on the many and varied benefits of dating an older man.” The women exchange a smile that is brief, but polite and Vaughn watches Viv’s back as she faces the closed door.
“Oh shit,” he says as she walks toward him and soundly whacks him on the back of the head. “Ow. What’s that for?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
When Viv nods toward the door, Vaughn sits back on the sofa, drawing his arm over his eyes. “Don’t start with me.”
“You’re fucking her.”
He jerks his arm away to glare at his sister. “No I’m not.”
Again, Viv’s eyes narrow and the way she watches his expression has Vaughn nervous. “Oh my God, you are.” She collapses next to him. “Vaughn, I swear…”
“Nothing has happened… not yet.” He slips her a sideways look. “How did you know?”
Viv’s expression softens. “I haven’t seen you look at a woman like that since you were nineteen, on leave and Caroline brought you an apple pie at that diner where she worked.”
A flash of Caroline comes to him then. She was so beautiful, so young with her dirty blonde hair pulled into a bun and her apron covered in flour and raspberry puree. When she smiled, her eyes lit like a flame the second she looked at him, Vaughn knew he was done for. But it changed. She changed and the worse things became, the longer he spent away from home and on duty, the more fragile the tether of their relationship became. He’d failed Caroline. He swore he wouldn’t fail Mollie. “It’s not like that.”
Viv nudges him, makes him scoot over so she can stretch her legs onto the sofa. “Then tell me what it’s like.”
He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Viv. There are some things that he doesn’t want his sister to know, but when he glances at her and sees the worry wrinkling her forehead, Vaughn knows her concern reaches further than the case. “I like her.”
“Well thank you, Captain Obvious, for that insight.”
Vaughn looks up at the ceiling, to the small cracks near the windows and the small spider web around the light fixture. Housekeeping has been slipping. He can almost hear Viv’s words before they leave her mouth. She’s going to lecture him. She’s going to tell him he isn’t being smart. Like he doesn’t know that. Like he needs Viv to state the obvious. Resigned, Vaughn moves his head, watching the way his sister moves the silver band around her finger. “What do you want me to do?”
Several emotions flit across her eyes; Vaughn knows them well. He sees her fear, the very real possibility that Vaughn letting his emotions guide him might threaten the case. But he also sees the small glimmer of hope Viv has held for him this past year. She wants him to heal. She wants him to be open to something he decided long ago would only hurt him. Instead of focusing on that, Viv deflects, pulls on her professional mask. “Mojo finds out you’re doing his daughter and he won’t like it.”
“I’m not—”
“But you want to. That much I can tell.” She rests next to him, putting her head on his shoulder like she did last year when their father’s death had left them both empty. “She’s a pretty girl. Not like I thought she’d be at all.”
“Why? Because Mojo’s a haggard bastard?”
“Oh, ho, little brother…” Viv sits up and Vaughn isn’t sure what to make of that wide grin on her face. “You’ve never met Mr. Nicky ‘Mojo’ Malone. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him, but he’s not haggard at all.” Her breath releases in a tiny wisp that has Vaughn questioning who is being unprofessional here. “A little rough around the edges, but that man is something to behold. How do you think he got that nickname?” Vaughn shrugs. “Because, they say his dick is like magic.”
Vaughn wrinkles his nose. “Please tell me you’re not vying for conjugals with that old man.”
“Nah. Not allowed in Mississippi, besides, I’m just trying to work a case, but I can appreciate a handsome man when I see one.” Viv pulls Vaughn off of the sofa and picks up her bag on the way to the door. But before she opens it, she turns on him, that serious hint returning to her face. “Promise me.”
“Viv—”
“You have to promise you won’t touch her until this case is settled.” Viv pulls the bag onto her shoulder but doesn’t lose the stern frown working across her mouth. “I’m all for you finding someone again, but if you touch her now, she’ll mess with your head and I need you concentrating.”
It’s something he told Mollie that night she woke him from the nightmare. The sins he visited on his former wife weighed him down so that he would do anything to earn her forgiveness: touch her when he knew that was impossible, apologize, beg, kiss away all his failings. Vaughn knows his sister is right. He knows that this case would be over soon, that he needs to keep Mollie safe; the best way to do that is to not let her touch him, to keep himself on guard, alert. He can’t do that if he kisses her, if he touches her again like he had tonight.
When Viv’s eyes return small and expectant, Vaughn scrubs his face, giving up, yet again, on what he wants. “Fine. I won’t touch her.” He only prays he can keep that promise.
“So, let me get this right… Autumn’s dad raised Declan in Ireland and then they both came to Cavanagh and Declan starts dating Autumn without knowing that they’re related?” When Vaughn says it like that, even to Mollie’s ears, it sounds weird. Vaughn’s hands grip the steering wheel as Mississippi’s never-ending Interstate whips past them. Mollie lets that cringe on his face pass. She knew she’d have to clarify a few things or Vaughn would think her friends were something out of a bad, completely gross porno.
“Not related. Well. Not really. I guess technically they’re step-siblings. But that tie was severed when Declan’s mom died.” Vaughn’s nose wrinkles and Mollie sighs at his ridiculous, confused frown. “It’s not that complicated, really.” She clears her throat. “So Joe, Autumn’s dad, grew up in Ireland and got married young when the girl he was seeing tells him she’s pregnant.” Vaughn nods. “Then, when Declan is born two months too soon and comes out a fat, healthy baby boy, Joe knows he’s not the father.”
“So Declan’s mom lied?”
“Yep. But don’t ever, ever mention it to Declan. He’s fiercely protective of his mom.”
The frown deepens, but Vaughn nods his understanding. “Right.”
Rain starts to collect on the window and Mollie traces one long drip with her index finger, trying not to think about how close they are to the prison. Outside, Mississippi is a long row of tall pines and very little variation from the line of trees and the patches of filled-in pot holes.
“So?” Vaughn asks and Mollie rests her hand in her lap.
“So, Joe leaves Ireland all mad at the world and ends up in Cavanagh. He meets Autumn’s mom, Evelyn, and they get married and have Autumn.” Small flashes of Evelyn come back to Mollie; her bright eyes, the pale skin, the smile she always wore; it was welcoming, sweet, but Mollie remembers thinking of the sadness that never quite left her features. Her own mother was horrible. Evelyn made up for what she missed at home with hugs that were tight and words of encouragement Mollie knew weren’t spoken just to make her feel better. She blinks, looks back out at the wet window before she continues. “But when Autumn was a kid, Joe gets word that Moira, that’s Declan’s mom, anyway, Moira is dying and since he didn’t bother divorcing her, he’s legally responsible for her estate and all that stuff.”
Vaughn whistles and it is a low, amazed sound. “He didn’t divorce her?”
“Nope.”
“So, Autumn’s parents weren’t really married?”
Mollie gives Vaughn a sideway nod and his mouth drops a bit. “Apparently not.”
“Man, that’s messed up.”
“It is.” She grabs his arm, squeezing it as she remembers that time a few months back when Declan and Autumn fought because of more of Joe’s secrets. “But don’t mention that around Joe because it’s a touchy subject.”
“I think I’m gonna have to make a list.”
She waves her hand, as though the drama of her friends’ family history isn’t that hard to understand once you’ve spent time with them. “So, anyway, Evelyn finds out about the whole not having a divorce thing and gets highly pissed.”
“Naturally.”
“And she tells Joe to leave, go back to Ireland and be with his dying wife.”
“And he does?”
“He does.” Mollie thinks of Evelyn again, of the pain she must have felt at the loss of her family, of the man she loved and her chest twinges a bit. At the time, Mollie knew nothing about it. She and Autumn had been friends for a couple of years but the girls had not yet reached that “we must be with each other always” point in their friendships. If they felt that pain, both Autumn and Evelyn kept it to themselves. “By this time Declan’s almost legal, sixteen or seventeen, I think, and Joe steps in, takes care of him and Moira dies. Joe figures that Evelyn won’t have him back and so he stays with Declan for eight years.”
“Until they come here?”
“Yeah, I’m not real clear on that part.” That’s something that Autumn never really spoke about, neither had Declan. She didn’t know what happened during those eight years and never felt it was her place to ask. “I know Declan was in Utah for a while and then later, after he came here, Joe followed.”
“Why then? Why not before?”
“I guess because of the accident.” Vaughn frowns, confused. “Couple of years ago, Evelyn and Autumn get t-boned by this huge truck. Evelyn dies instantly and Autumn almost loses her leg. In fact, she almost died herself.” Mollie takes a breath, thinking about that time, how scared she was, how close they’d all came to losing Autumn. A weird, sudden shudder works up her spine. “It was bad.” Her voice is low, soft and Mollie’s eyes unfocus as she remembers Autumn in the hospital, bruises and scrapes covering her body and her leg rigged up and extended in the air. “It was really the worst thing we ever went through,” she says, a bit louder, voice clearer. “I guess Joe heard about Evelyn’s death and didn’t want Autumn to be without any family.”
“And Autumn and Declan?”
She smiles. “They were so stupid. So annoying. He was a total asshole to her at first and then her ex comes back and Declan hated him, hell, we all did, and I suppose by that time Declan wanted her.”
Mollie looks at Vaughn, thinking about how desire can shift your behavior; how it clouds all logical thought and reason. How, she hopes hers won’t undo whatever it is between them. Vaughn hasn’t touched her, not since that night in the hotel. For two days he’s stayed away from her, willingly not looking too hard at her, certainly not getting close enough to touch her. It all changed that night in his sister’s office. Mollie knows Viv told him something and whatever that something was, had put Vaughn off of touching her.
When he seems to catch himself looking a bit too long at her, Vaughn returns his gaze to the road. “But Declan didn’t know that Autumn was Joe’s daughter?”
Mollie isn’t surprised at the reaction, doesn’t bother responding to his quick deflection. “Nope. And when he found out, Joe made him swear he wouldn’t tell her. It caused a lot of grief.”
“I bet it did. And now they’re all one big happy family?”
“Yeah. They are. Joe had a heart attack. He almost died and it brought them all together. It wasn’t all hugs and kisses, but they got over it.”
“So really all that was Joe’s fault?”
“Yeah, but Joe’s a good guy.” Mollie doesn’t like the quick snap of Vaughn’s gaze or how the expression on his face tells her he thinks she’s a little naïve. She was used to that reaction. Mollie and her friends garnered the same look by association. Their classmates just didn’t understand about Declan and Autumn, thanks in part to Heather and Tucker—the two people who wanted Declan and Autumn apart most in the world. “Ever do something stupid to protect someone?” He nods and she wonders about that flash in his eyes. “Well, that’s what Joe was doing. Trying to protect everyone from the past. He just went about it the wrong way. Don’t get it twisted, they’re a family and Autumn and Declan, well, for them family is everything. Declan only had his mom and then she died. Autumn only had her mom and she died, so for them to be together, sharing a dad, well, it means a lot. It hasn’t been easy, but they make it work.”
“You said she’s your family.”
Again, Mollie looks out the window. The girls are her family, all of them. They accepted her, took in this harsh, blunt little thirteen year old girl with a bitchy mom and a father who had landed in prison. They never judged her, never questioned why she was still so loyal to her father. People accepting you despite your flaws, loving you sometimes even more because of them? Yeah, Mollie thought. That’s family. “She is. All of them are. We sort of became an instant family when we were kids. To Autumn, family is everything, same with Deco. That’s why he’s so protective of us.”
“I thought he wanted you.” Mollie makes a face and mocks a gagging sound. “What?”
“I’m not blind. Declan’s gorgeous, but ugh, no. That’s never, ever going to happen. Besides, those two were married the day they met. Well, after he got over her kneeing him in the balls.” Vaughn barks out a laugh, and stares at Mollie as though she can’t get away without telling him how her sweet, gentle friend was able to cripple Declan with one knee to the groin, but then the gates of the prison come into view and the pleased smile on Mollie’s face disappears. “That’s another story for a different day.”
The gate is large, a steel structure with looming lines of razor wire and fencing that circles the prison. Vaughn and Mollie pass over their I.D.s and a fat guard with tight buttons threatening to pop off his gray shirt waves them through. Three sharp turns and they are parked in the center row staring up at the dark gray building. Dread collects in Mollie’s stomach. It always does when she visits this place.
Vaughn’s hand rests on the door handle and Mollie can feel his gaze moving between her face and the mammoth building in front of them. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah… why?” She didn’t realize she was staring straight ahead, eyes losing focus as she tries to guess what her father would tell her today.
“It’s been a while, right? When was the last time you saw your dad?”
“A year.” She turns toward him, resting back against the headrest. She just needs a moment; a small pause before she faces her father. “A little over that, actually.” She takes a breath, eyes back through the windshield again. “I hate it here.”
“That’s not surprising.”
She looks away, blocking out the building and Vaughn next to her who speaks to her with his voice easy, with a concern that vanishes any distance he’s shown her for the past few days. Outside her window a slim woman with tight curls drags along a young boy toward the prison. Visiting day was always like this: mothers pulling their kids inside, parents old or aging taking quick steps to their sons, waiting for a visit that’s monitored by guards in gray uniforms. There was little privacy, little ease in these visits, but most families managed a smile, seem to take the small moment of comfort despite the unwelcoming air of the prison.
“He doesn’t laugh anymore.” Mollie tries to remember the last time she heard an honest, genuine laugh from her father. It had to be before he went away. “I haven’t heard my dad laugh in ten years, not really. He’ll chuckle, he’ll find something funny, but it’s not the same.” She runs her finger along the window seam, feeling the cool chill that has covered the summer heat. “Like he doesn’t really mean it.”
In the back, to the left, the concrete yard is visible. Vaughn watches a group of inmates, some shirtless, some sweating with bodies that shine against the sunlight, playing basketball. Periodically, an inmate will look toward the parking lot, eyes searching, hopeful, like tigers itching to be released from a confining cage. “I can’t imagine this place offers much room for laughter.”
“No. I don’t guess it does.” Mollie takes another breath, steeling herself. “Let’s go. They’re not going to give us much time.”
Vaughn is walking just a step behind, not touching her, not leading her and the distance barely registers as they move through one gate with an intercom system, controlled remotely by the guards within, then into the lobby of the visitation room. Vaughn will be unable to get beyond this point, Viv told them that much, but for the first time in ten years, Mollie will have a private room with her father. Viv didn’t want the guards knowing that her brother would be there; she was still so suspicious of anyone knowing what Mojo was doing for them. But the Warden was a friend of their father’s who owed her a favor.
When Mollie reaches the last guard station, with cameras moving in every conceivable corner of the room and guards glancing at each visitor as though they are suspicious, she pauses for the metal detector, then turns when a wand moves over her body. She sees Vaughn beyond the glass, watches the way he eyes her, how he attempts a comforting smile before he sits on a chair just near the entrance.
A guard bigger than Vaughn, uglier, with less confidence in his stride, leads Mollie to a private room down the cement hallway and she waits for her father. The table is a solid poured piece of metal that is bolted to the floor. Stools, also bolted to the floor, surround the table; no cushions, no comforts at all and there are no walls of glass or mirrors, no closed circuit cameras to afford the authorities a glimpse into what goes on in this room. Deals, pleas, the usual business of getting someone out of this place, or keeping someone in, all happen in this room—it’s were the attorneys meet with their clients.
Her skin tingles, then prickles hard when the door opens and her father is escorted in, handcuffed and led by two guards. But Mollie doesn’t pay attention to them, or how they take their time releasing him from the cuffs. She only sees the gauntness of her father’s face, how the salt and pepper hair has gone almost completely white.
She knows instantly that something has happened; something he hasn’t told her about. Where once his face was full, slightly worn from the sun, from the hard life he must live here, it is now thin and his high cheekbones protrude to give him a sickly, old appearance. He smiles at her, but happiness doesn’t extend to his eyes, doesn’t make his face brighter, younger like it’s always done.
“Daddy… what’s wrong?” She is in his arms before he has a chance to sit at the table. “You’re sick?”
“I am, baby.” He smells like butterscotch and cheap soap, but Mollie doesn’t care, can just maintain her composure at how thin his arms have grown, how his once large, muscular chest is now emaciated.
“Is it cancer?”
“Yes. In my gut.” Her father holds her tighter when she can’t help the tears. Mollie rubs her face against the ugly white jumpsuit he wears and tries not to scream. “Come on now, don’t do that. I’m not dead yet.”
She pushes back, watching his face as he still holds her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You got enough to worry over. When do your classes start back up?”
“Daddy, don’t.” She hates when he does that. Changing the subject, deflecting. “This is why you’re testifying? You want a clear conscience?”
He sighs, nods toward the table and Mollie pulls the second chair to meet the other one so she can sit next to her father. “Big Frank got killed last year. He was meeting the connection for a drop and just got in the middle of a beef. It wasn’t his fault.” Mojo wipes the moisture from Mollie’s face with his long fingers. “Six months before that Spider went in for life. Caught with product that wasn’t supposed to be there for another week.” Her father looks over his shoulder, making sure the guards have left and then leans in toward her, taking her small hand in his. “The, um, big fellas,” she knows he means the suppliers, the elusive cartel she’s heard mentioned a handful of times over the years, “have been taking too many chances. We got new blood, some young brothers in the club, but they don’t know what the hell they’re doing. Everything’s gone stupid, baby, and when I got the verdict from my doc,” Mojo closes his eyes when Mollie feels her chin tremble, “and my brothers were dying off or getting pinched, I thought this was enough. I don’t wanna die in this shithole, Mimi.”
“Daddy…” Mollie can’t control the tears when they come again. And when her father’s grip on her hand tightens and she sees how his own eyes have gone glassy, moisture collecting in his lashes, she crumbles against his chest once more. She doesn’t know if he’s crying too. She only knows that she hears a rough wheeze in his throat when he whispers small words meant to console her. She only knows that his arms around her shoulders, though tight, aren’t as strong, as menacing as they once were. This is why he was taking chances, but the threat isn’t just the sickness. It isn’t just about him dying in this place. “They know, don’t they? The cartel? That you’re going to testify against them?”
“They found out, yeah. I have some pretty convincing evidence.” Mojo rubs his face, then pushes the hair off Mollie’s shoulder. He always did that, she remembered. He always said she should wear her hair off her face so the world would see how pretty she was. “That’s why I’m usually in solitary. I don’t have much protection around here anymore. And I knew they’d come at you, baby. When I heard they were branching out, moving on to Tennessee, well, I couldn’t have those assholes so close to my baby. I had to make a deal.”
Mollie uses the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her face dry. “What’s Viv offering you?”
Her father presses his lips together, works his mouth as though he’s debating on what he should say. Finally, when Mollie frowns at him, he exhales and leans an elbow on the table. “Admit nothing, deny everything, make counter-accusations.”
“That’s enough. You’re not a SEAL anymore, Daddy.”
“I’ll always be a SEAL, baby.” When she only glares at him, Mojo’s shoulders lower, defeated. “Time served for turning state’s witness.”
“But if they know… they’ll come after you. They’ve already tried getting to me and the girls have gotten in the way. You won’t be protected once you’re out.”
“I know, baby.” Mojo locks their fingers together, stares at the chipping, red paint on her nails. “But I won’t be around long enough for them to find me.”
She knew what that meant. She knew it wasn’t good and that thick dread that surfaced out in the parking lot, grows. “You’re going dark?” Her throat burns from her crying, clots with the question she isn’t sure she wants an answer to.
“I have to. Viv knows a doctor, a good doctor up north.”
“But I won’t see you, will I?”
This time, it’s Mojo who cries. It’s her father that turns away from her, hiding his face with his thin fingers. She’d only seen him cry once in her life. It happened when one of his brothers had been run off the road, flipped from his bike, by a drunk lawyer driving a BMW. The cops found him in pieces along the highway and the lawyer never served a day in jail.
“I’d trade that to keep you safe,” he says, between his fingers. “I’d give up never seeing you again if it meant you could be proud of me just once.”
“Daddy, no.” Mollie forces his hands from his face and makes her father look at her directly. “I am proud of you. I love you so much, Daddy. I just want you safe and happy and free.” There is a hitch clotting in her throat and Mollie doesn’t bother to clear it away. “Please don’t do that.”
“It’s already done, baby.”
There was no swaying him. Mojo Malone was a stubborn ass, always had been, and Mollie knew there was no way that was ever going to change.
She scoots her chair in, and when she wraps her hands around his pale arm to lean her face against his hand, her father slides his fingers in her hair. She sits there a moment, smelling the harsh, soap scent of his skin. “Fine.” She kisses his knuckles and again dries her face. “What do you want me to do?”
This time when he smiles, her father’s eyes are brighter, though they do not completely lose that low dim. “I want you to keep your head down. That’s the only thing you have to do.” Mojo’s throat works, he clears it as though he isn’t sure he wants to say what’s presently on his mind. “This boy? The one watching you?” Mollie nods. “Viv tells me he’s a Marine, that he’s a good sort.”
Mollie knows that tone, she knows enough about her father’s mannerisms to know when he was trying to gauge her reactions. Slick old thing. “What about him?”
“I want you to listen to him. He’s a jarhead, but Viv says he’s seen action. He’ll know what to do in a tight spot.”
“I guess he does, Daddy.”
“Good. Now, that don’t mean—” Mojo goes silent when the door opens behind them and two guards, and Vaughn, slip into the room. Immediately, her father moves from his seat and by the way he stands, feet apart and fists rolled at his side, Mollie knows that he’s preparing himself. For what, Mollie isn’t sure, but she’d seen him take on that stance more than a dozen times as a kid. It never led to anything good.
“Daddy,” she warns, but then the guards walk forward, one of them pulling out his handcuffs.
Ignoring the two men in the gray uniforms, Mojo extends his wrists, all the while looking Vaughn over, inspecting, analyzing. “You my baby’s fella?” he asks and Vaughn hesitates, then smirks when Mojo’s eyes dart to the guards. Mollie knows her father wants Vaughn to play along and that small question is spoken to measure just how quick Vaughn is.
“Yes, sir.” He stands next to her, pulling her against his chest.
“Good.” Again Mojo’s eyes work over Vaughn. Daddy doesn’t like him, Mollie thinks. Her father’s neck is held too rigid, his now handcuff hands carry white knuckles. “You gonna take care of her?”
“I’m gonna do my best.” Tension has now formed on Vaughn’s face, as though there is something else shifting through his mind.
“You better, soldier,” her father says and Mollie winces at the insult. She knew enough about military folk to know you just didn’t call a Marine a soldier. The Army had soldiers. Marines were just Marines.
But Vaughn lets the offense pass, doesn’t do more than allow his left eye to twitch before the guards take Mojo by the elbow and toward the door.
“Wait!” she says, stopping them. “Can I give him a kiss goodbye?”
The two men exchange a look, hesitate, but then step aside so Mollie can wrap her arms around her father’s neck. His mouth instantly curls by her ear and what he says makes tears she thought she could no longer produce stream down her still wet face.
“It’ll be over soon, baby doll. One way or another.” He kisses her cheek and gives her an easy smirk. “Remember, no one loves you like your daddy.”
“I know it.”
And then, her father is rushed from the room and with a quiet click, Mollie is left with Vaughn. But he is soundless, waiting for her to move, waiting, she guesses, to see what the next seconds and the visit with her father will have Mollie doing.
She swallows thick, clears away the congestion in her chest and looks at Vaughn with her chin dipped low. “Get me out of here. Please.”