He killed my father, buried him alive. I can’t imagine what it would be like to open your mouth to scream for help only to have it fill with dry dirt.
A shiver runs up my back and I pull my silk robe around my body a little harder. Standing up, I hear my phone ding but know who it is before having to look. It’s Dominic, he wants to go over getting the guys back in the saddle, to re-upload the Bravado famiglia. Drugs, guns, illegal gambling. It’s a world I thought I knew but really didn’t until recently. I can’t step foot out of the house without being a target now. Every thug and low life wants to kill me, to have the title of killing the Bravada Queen.
I haven’t talked to Kieran, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to. I want to know why he did it, I want to know where my father is so I can give him a proper burial. But he thinks I’m a rat, would he kill me if I showed up on his doorstep? The door to my room opens and in steps my old grandma, her gold cane helping me along. She sits on the end of my bed and feels the comforter.
“Tell me about the cabin, about Kieran,” she implores.
I sigh, thinking about the boat, the bed, how I threw a mug at him and a smile crosses my face.
“The cabin was horrid. The bed was musky and old, the blankets felt like sandpaper, and it had been broken into,” I begin, my mind taking me back to Bonnet Shores.
“Sounds terrible.” She smiles though.
“But it wasn’t. It was simplistic and nice to get away from the city. I thought about having a garden.” I silently laugh, looking out the window. Kieran asked me about gardening. Why is it every time I think about anything he comes to mind.
“Kieran was… angry, handsome, possessive,” I clip, my smiled fading. “But there was this side of him I feel like only I got to see. He smiles and laughs. He’s caring,” I ramble on, remembering how panicked he was when I’d been shot. I look down at my arm, it’s color bruised, but I don’t have to wear the gauze anymore.
“I think you two need to talk to each other without the family in the middle, my dear,” she says and my head snaps to hers.
“No. He wouldn’t like that.” I shake my head. It’s not like I haven’t thought about going to his house. Wherever that may be. I’m sure Dominic can find it for me though.
“Did he like everything you did at the cabin?” She tilts her head to the side, making a point. It’s as if my defiance is what made our friendship grow.
“So what are you saying that I should just go to his house and tell him that detective came to me. That I was never going to go into witness protection?” I half-laugh, hearing it out loud sounds just as crazy. I doubt he’ll care. I broke cardinal rule number one, an oath we’re born into. Regardless if I had a gun raised to that asshole’s head, there’s no telling what the DeAngelos showed Kieran. Would he even believe me?
I stand, angry.
“No, he killed my dad!” I remind her. I begin to pace, thinking about how many years have passed and I still held hope that I’d find my father. Only to make a fool of, he knew the whole time that my father was dead and let me go on believing it when I thought he let me in to a place of his heart he’d never let anyone else in.
And she sighs. “If your story was half told, maybe there’s more to his side of this tragedy, Leona.” she stands on old wobbly feet, and begins to hobble to my dresser. I open my mouth to ask her something but then shut it. She grabs an Edgar Allan Poe book sitting on top, and I close my eyes knowing something deep is about to be said. “I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.”
“Edgar Allan Poe said that, and he wasn’t wrong.” Think about that, my dear.
God, that man is brilliant with words, because he’s right. I feel insane inside my head right now and it’s all because of Kieran.
Emilio is a bottom feeder who would say anything to get what he wants. It’s possible there’s more to the story, and even if there’s not… I want to know where my dad is. Grabbing my phone, I text Dominic to give our driver the address to Kieran’s house and put the phone on silent. I don’t want to hear him go on about how careless I’m being. He wouldn’t understand.