Mafiosa

My father buried his face in his hands again. I spoke to the crown of his head, where grey hairs mingled amongst the mousy brown. ‘If you don’t tell me where Jack is, and what he’s doing, I’m going to turn around and walk away, and this conversation will be over for good. I know you know. I don’t know why you’re hiding it after his involvement in Mom’s death, but if you refuse to tell me, then I’ll consider it a betrayal to her as well as me.’ I could hear the cruelty in my voice, but I pushed on, knowing this was the only way forward. He had been cruel, too, only he was too afraid to show it. I would be transparent at least.

‘I loved your mom, Soph.’ He was speaking to his feet as I glowered at his head. ‘She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Her and you.’

‘You lied to her. She had no idea about all the people you had killed … about your quest for retribution. She didn’t see what was in the safe. The Falcone switchblades. The ring. The names. But I did.’

He snapped his head up. ‘The Falcones took everything from Jack and me. Sophie, they murdered our parents. They shot my mother. My mother. Can you not understand how I’d be angry about that? Can you not understand why I would want to avenge her?’

I wavered, just for a split second. This was dangerous. This was resonance, and I couldn’t afford to feel any empathy with my father. I couldn’t afford to let him draw a link between what he had done and what I wanted to do … unless I could use it to my advantage.

I hunkered down until we were at eye level. ‘Can you not understand why I would want to do the same to the people who killed Mom? Can you not understand why I’m looking for Jack? For Donata?’

He shut his eyes. ‘This isn’t the right path for you, Sophie.’

‘And yet it was for you?’

He flicked his gaze over my shoulder, towards his prison chaperone. ‘Look where it got me, Soph.’

‘Where is he?’ I pressed.

‘Leave them,’ he said at the same time as me. ‘Get away from the Falcones before they hurt you, Sophie. Because they will hurt you. Felice Falcone is mentally unhinged. You won’t survive under the same roof as him. And Angelo’s boys … they have it in for me, Sophie. They’ll have it in for you too.’

‘And go where? The Marinos’? Should I have Thanksgiving dinner at Donata’s house? Sit shoulder to shoulder with Jack? Jack who did nothing as Mom lay unconscious at his feet in the diner?’

My father sucked in a breath. ‘Of course not. I don’t want you anywhere near the underworld, period. It makes corpses of good people, and survivors of the worst. There’s no justice there, Soph. If you trust nothing else I’ve ever said, trust that. It will destroy you.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s too late, Dad.’

‘It’s not too late, Sophie.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. ‘This is not your world. It’s not your path. I made damn sure to keep it from you for this long, I won’t falter now.’

‘He killed her.’ I was beginning to sound like a parrot, but I needed to be heard, and my father was refusing to listen. ‘He had a hand in her death, no matter what he told you.’

‘This is not your fight.’ He held the paper out. It hovered between us, a small white flag. ‘Take it.’

I eyed it with suspicion. ‘What is it?’

‘An address,’ he said. ‘Someone who will help you. Go to them, and they will hide you. Take your life and run with it. If not for me, then for your mother. She would have hated to see you turning to darkness. It would have broken her heart in two.’

I snatched the paper from his hands and opened it, reading the top of the address. ‘Who the hell is M Flores?’

‘Someone who will help you,’ he said simply.

I read the address. ‘Colorado?’ I looked up at him. ‘Are you serious? You want me to go to Colorado to stay with some guy I’ve never met?’

‘That’s exactly what I want you to do.’

‘Well, that is ridiculous.’ I brandished the paper between us. ‘You have seriously lost your mind.’

He raised a hand. ‘Put that away. Don’t show it to anyone else. When you go, you have to disappear. Don’t tell another soul the address on that piece of paper.’

I narrowed my eyes at the hurried script. ‘Who is this? And why would they owe you anything?’

He pursed his lips together. Another secret he would not relinquish. He was a fool to give this to me. As if I would ever listen to him. As if I still cared for any of his stupid, reckless advice. My fight was here, in Chicago. My fight was in the underworld, just as his was.

‘I’m not a monster, Sophie.’

I blew out a sigh. I had reached my threshold for this particular genre of conversation. All assassins were the same – deluded – and I was done being the resident counsellor. I was done with second chances, third chances. I could make up my own mind about who to trust from now on; that much had become very clear. ‘How long are you out for?’ I said, eyeing the prison guard.

‘They granted me furlough for the ceremony.’

‘Well, it’s over now. You can take off again.’

I was still inching away, trying to distance myself from the love I used to have for this man, from all the admiration and respect that was now smouldering inside me – a wasteland of childhood affection. ‘Soph, will you do what I said?’