“Calla, I did try—”
“Right. Really hard, I’m sure. Like your helicopter couldn’t have just landed in the bar’s parking lot if you were that desperate to see me.”
“There was a restraining order against me,” he said quietly, and before I could say I didn’t believe him, he took two pieces of paper from his pocket and handed them to me. I grabbed them and read them as best I could, through tears and the shaking of the paper in my trembling fingers.
“I don’t understand—it’s saying that you can’t come near her or me. Because . . .”
“Because she lied,” he said flatly and handed me an envelope. I recognized my mother’s handwriting immediately. “I didn’t know about you until you were fifteen. Inside, is her apology. I never wanted to show you any of this, Calla. I really didn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re in immediate danger and I need you to believe me . . .”
I did.
“We can talk more about this, but there are pressing matters, Calla. I’d like to get you out of here and get you someplace safe.”
“I don’t think so.”
Cage’s voice. As I watched, they stared each other down and I swore I heard music from the O.K. Corral, expected one or both of them to draw at any moment.
Finally Cage said, “You served.”
“Eighty-second Battalion.”
Army. These men were both Army. How did I know so little about my own father? How could Cage know that just from looking at him?
I studied them for a second, noticed they did have the same bearing. Maybe there was some kind of secret way of knowing.
And suddenly, the two men I figured would be enemies had their heads together, talking about making plans. For me.
“First I’d like to talk to Calla a bit, though,” my father said.
“I’ll go grab us some dinner,” Cage agreed. He gave me a kiss before he left, and my father and I sat down and dealt with the topic at hand.
“I wanted to prosecute. Your mother was worried about what it would do to your social status. She wanted that for you, Calla, for right or wrong. I should’ve fought her harder, but she convinced me that a lengthy trial would be too much for you.”
“Wait—you wanted to bring the police in on this?”
“Of course.” He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes sad. “I don’t want to do this, play the ‘Disparage Your Mother’ game. She did what she thought was best.”
“She knew I didn’t want any of those trappings.”
“She thought you deserved them.”
“And what did you think?”
“I think that rich, poor and everything in between comes with its own set of problems. But I wanted to strangle that boy with my bare hands,” my father said fiercely. “It was only through the intervention of my friends that I’m not in jail today and I’m still pissed at myself for listening to them. Because sitting in jail, knowing that fucker was dead, would’ve been worth it. But they convinced me that keeping it quiet was the best for you. That something like that could ruin a fifteen-year-old.”
“It did ruin me,” I said quietly. “But if it had gotten out, it would’ve been worse. You buried it, and I’m grateful. But I shouldn’t have tried to bury it for myself.”
“I’m so sorry, Calla. I just wish you’d told me earlier, because he broke an order not to contact you.”
“I couldn’t prove it was him,” I said. “I don’t know how he involved Ned. But I’m guessing he used Ned for a while, and then killed him. Although I can’t prove that either. Jeffrey’s trying to frame Cage for that, and based on what the detectives saw in those pictures . . .”
My father’s face hardened and I said, “I told Cage to just let it go public. He refused and—”
“Of course he refused. That’s not going to happen. Over my dead body.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whispered. “I just found you and Cage. I don’t want to lose either of you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He studied me. “Cage is good to you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway and said, “Very. And I’m good for him.”
“It’s not where I’d like to see you, but I’ll be damned if I stand in the way of someone’s love.”
If I’d been allowed to know what I knew now . . . I could’ve had a different relationship with him. And then, I might never have met Cage.
I hugged him, like any daughter would hug any dad. “It’s not too late for this, is it?”
“Never, Calla. Never,” he said fiercely. “Are you safe here?”
“No. They never would hurt me, especially not Cage. But I’m hurting them.”
My father paused. “I’m sure they can handle it, Calla. But you want out—I’m coming to get you.”
Before I could tell him I had no place to go, he’d added, “And you’d come home with me.
“This isn’t the life I’d have chosen for you,” he continued. “What father would?”
“One who grew up in an MC?”
“Wiseass.”
How had I not known my father had a sense of humor? A stab of pain at all the wasted time tore through me, and tears ran down my cheeks.
“Calla, honey . . .”
“It’s okay. I’m just . . . I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That I spent so much time hating you. Thinking you hated me too.”
He didn’t say anything, just grabbed my hand and squeezed. “That’s behind us. We can talk about it—we will talk about it—but for now let’s concentrate on fixing this business that’s been haunting you once and for all.”
“Cage fixed it. He fixed me,” I explained. I wouldn’t go into detail, but my father seemed to understand.
“And you think you can live the rest of your life attached to an MC?”
“I don’t know. But I know I can live with Cage for the rest of my life, if he’ll have me.”
Chapter 33
I dragged Holly with me to the gym. She’d finally come out of her room, and although the tattoo shop was open and running, she’d refused to step foot inside. There’d been no signs of the police finding anything else but a rock through the window and so it had been filed as a nuisance report.
So far, so good. Rally dropped us off at the gym and we went right inside. I felt a little silly being bodyguarded most of the time, but I think Holly definitely appreciated the extra presence.
Once inside, she jumped right on a treadmill and began to run. I did the same, and for half an hour there was just the music from my iPod and the pounding of my pulse and my feet in a steady rhythm. The stress of everything fell away easily, and I made a mental note to get here more often. I much preferred running outside, but I’d take what I could get.
Holly stopped a few minutes before me, and she was still stretching when I finished. I wiped my face with a towel and gulped some water down.
“Good run, yes?” she asked. It was good to see her smile. I thought about how I hadn’t liked her at first, and how fast things could change.
“We’ve got to do this more often.”
“I’d love to take a swim and then sauna. Are you in a rush to get back?”
“Nope. Go for it. I’m going to do some free weights and then I’ll meet you in the steam.”
She patted my shoulder as she passed and I headed for the weights.
If I’d seen Detective Flores ahead of time, I’d have turned my ass right around. But I didn’t notice her until I was practically on top of her, since she was lying down doing some bench presses.
“Hello Calla.”
I nodded in her direction and went to grab some weights of my own, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. All the good high from my run went flying out the window. I barely got the five-pound weights settled in my palms when she was next to me. I looked at her in the mirror, not turning when she said, “I think we should talk.”