16. Cornered - Alex
I went from frozen scared in the doorway, my gaze locked with my dad’s, to somehow ending up in the kitchen, seated at the breakfast nook across from him with a cup of tea between my unsteady hands. I stared into the liquid—a light brown color from a splash of creamer. It was the way my mom had liked her tea.
“It’s good to see you,” Dad said. “I’ve been worried about you.”
He looked different. Harder around the edges. The additional lines on his face made him seem older. But the sharpness of his hazel eyes hadn’t diminished. He could talk nice and make fucking tea all day long, but it wouldn’t change who he was—the man who’d claimed me as his daughter but hadn’t protected me like a father should. The man who’d put his aspirations for Zach and business above loving me.
The man who killed my mom.
“Alexandra?” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “Did you come here to stare at your old man all day?”
“No.” I hardened my jaw, debating on whether I should voice what was on my mind. But I hadn’t caused myself so much trouble to come here and not go through with it. “I came here to ask you a question.”
“Ask away,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Several beats passed, during which I had to swallow three times before I found my courage and my voice. “Did you kill Mom?”
His gaze remained steady on me, giving nothing away. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Zach told me you did it. He said it wasn’t a suicide.”
“Zach isn’t mentally sound. You shouldn’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth.” He paused, and his composure slipped back into place. “Have you seen your brother?”
“He’s not my brother.”
“Nonsense. I didn’t raise you like a step-child. Since when did you start allowing the logistics of DNA to get in the way of family?”
I would have asked if he were serious, but I knew he was. The incredulous arch of my brows gave away my indignation. “Since the day Zach started using me as his fuck toy.”
Dad remained silent. I remembered the poker parties he’d hosted when I was a kid. He’d made bank on those nights, and now I could see why. He had the perfect poker face; his expression revealing nothing, his mannerisms kept in check. He held his cards close to his chest.
But those eyes. I studied them, searching for a hint of what he was holding back. Had he seen Zach?
“Even if I had seen him,” I said, “the only place I would have sent him is jail.” Part of me wanted to draw back my caustic words. But it was too late.
I expected him to blow a gasket, voice a harsh bellow as he insisted I drop the charges against his golden child so Zach could return home. After all, Dad’s first instinct had always been to defend Zach. But he wasn’t going to show his hand.
“He wrote me once while I was on the inside,” Dad said.
Smoothing my expression, I lifted the teacup to my lips and took a sip, feigning disinterest as I waited for him to continue.
“He said you were the reason he was still alive.”
“I didn’t do it for him.”
“He said as much.”
“Where was the letter post marked from?” I was pushing my luck with the question, but I didn’t care. Go big, or go home. I intended to do both.
A faint smile curved his lips. He almost looked handsome when he smiled, despite the receding hairline and gray peppered throughout his brown hair. “I won’t give you ammunition to ruin your brother’s life. It’s time to let it go, Alexandra. You’ve obviously moved on with Rafe. No one else needs to get hurt.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not. I’m only stating a fact. This war between you and Zach has hurt you both.”
“Not just us,” I said, eyes burning with heartache. “Rafe lost eight years of his life because of our lie.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Did you know we were kidnapped last year?”
Dad shook his head.
“They held us underground for…shit, I don’t even know how many days it was. Lucas Perrone was behind it.”
For the first time since I’d seen Dad on the porch, he actually appeared rattled. “I read in the paper that someone torched his estate, busted an underground sex ring wide open.”
He didn’t ask the question, but I heard it in his tone—the careful way he spoke, implying that a puzzle piece had fallen into place, allowing him to read between the lines. Maybe he even realized that Lucas Perrone had been the reason for his arrest.
“Someone did a real number on Perrone.”
“Rafe will do anything to protect me.” I let that heavy statement sink in. Underneath it lay a threat.
“Seems he and I want the same things, Alexandra. I want you to be safe and happy.”
“I want to know the truth.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“Did you kill my mom?” I enunciated each word.
“Will my answer matter?” He stood, taking his cup with him, and strolled to the sink to rinse it out. “If I tell you I didn’t do it, you won’t believe me. If I tell you I did, it’ll just break your heart.” His broad shoulders rose and fell for a full minute as silence descended over the kitchen. Then he turned and faced me. “Either way, it’ll change nothing.”
“It’ll change everything.” Rising to my feet, I crossed my arms. “If you’re behind her death, I won’t stop until they toss your ass back in jail and throw away the key this time.”
His mouth turned up in a humoring smile, and I wanted to smack that look off his face. “Alexandra, you’re not in a position to threaten me. Or have you forgotten that I can bury Rafe? Don’t mistake my time in prison as a sign of weakness.”
“You, weak?” I grabbed my purse from the table and shouldered the strap. “I wouldn’t think of it.” Tamping down the jittery fear clogging my throat, I closed the distance between us. “Rafe thinks I’m strong. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s the one thing you taught me.”
I left him standing in the kitchen and exited the house, the door slamming shut behind me as I hurried toward the Jeep. Anxious to put as many miles between me and my past, I backed onto the street then stomped on the gas. A block down the road, I passed a police cruiser. The officer slowed, and at first I thought he was going to turn around and come after me. For all I knew, Rafe had reported the Jeep stolen. But the cruiser turned into my dad’s driveway instead.
God, that was a close call, and undoubtedly Rafe’s doing. He was desperate if he’d resorted to calling the authorities.
I made it five miles down I-84 before the shakes set in. Pulling onto the shoulder, I switched off the radio and did my breathing exercises for several minutes. The same urgency that had sent me running from the cabin now gripped my soul, demanding I return to it.
To Rafe.
Struggling under the weight of shame for my actions, I sent him a text that I was on my way, then I hit the road and didn’t look back. If not for the GPS, I wouldn’t have been able to find the cabin. Until I’d actually driven the back roads, navigating the hairpin curves, I hadn’t realized how remote the safe house was.
I guess that’s why they called it a safe house, though.
Instead of making me feel isolated and afraid, it made me feel protected. Even knowing Rafe would punish the shit out of me when I returned didn’t upset me as much as the whole confrontation with my dad had.
If he were innocent, he would have denied killing her.
The tears started about two miles away from the cabin, and I wiped them from my cheeks in anger. I couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. I had to find a way to get through whatever Rafe was going to do to me.
I pulled in front of the cabin, and he came barreling down the stairs, his face a mask of worry and rage. The two emotions were a frightening mixture on his hardened features. Wordlessly, he dragged me from the Jeep and hauled me inside, and I fell to my knees before he had a chance to demand I do so. My entire body was trembling—shoulders, arms, fingers. Thighs, knees, feet. The utter storm of wrath spreading over his face scared me more than anything.
The severe line of his mouth, jaw set in determination. I’d known there would be consequences for what I’d done, but I dreaded his imminent punishment more than I thought I would.
He stared me down for the longest seconds of my life, and the silence between us roared in my ears. Even Jax and Angel didn’t make a sound. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her hunched posture. She knew as well as I did that I was in deep shit.
“I’m too fucking angry right now to punish you. Go to our room and pick a corner. I want you on your knees with your face in it.”
I sprang to my feet and headed for the hall. Fuck, he was more pissed than the night I’d run away from his boat, and that had involved my recklessness with a firearm.
This was worse.
I’d not only gone against his decision, but I’d gone to my dad on my own. To a man who might have murdered my mom just to shut her up. Confronting my dad had been risky, no doubt about it, but I’d really put the nails in my coffin by going without the protection Rafe insisted on. No, without the protection he demanded. Or else.
This was the or else.
I chose the corner to the right of the window I’d broken my first night back. Rafe had boarded up the jagged hole with a thick piece of cardboard. I wondered if he could board up the jagged holes in my heart so easily. I was dubious as I approached my chosen corner, shedding my clothes as I went, because getting naked could only help my case. I dropped to my knees, hands clasped at my back, forehead in the tight space where the walls connected.
And I waited.