With the knowledge I’m more like my father than hoped, I drag the ladle across the bottom of the saucepan as if I’m scraping out my father’s insides while saying, “I don’t protect my father. You’re well aware of that.”
Brandon dips his chin, mindful I’d kill him for anything less than an agreeing gesture. “Have you been back long?”
My lips itch to lift into a smile, but I hold back the urge. I had wondered how closely I was being monitored by the Bureau after Tobias’s death. Now I know it’s more than an occasional glance. The months I spent in Italy weren’t widely broadcasted. The family didn’t want to risk an attack if our enemies became aware one of the main players were abroad, so we kept it on the down-low.
After setting down a bowl of Malloreddus in front of Brandon, I give him a stern look. “I flew in early last month. The Bureau is unaware of my return. I’d like to keep it that way.” My tone reveals I’m not suggesting for this to happen, I am warning him it better occur.
Even being close to a second bender in under a month, my glare has the effect I’m aiming for. “Your secret is safe with me, although I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”
I’m not a fan of being interrogated, especially when the questions are being asked by a federal agent, but I jerk up my chin, mindful of how these things work. The more I scratch Brandon’s back, the less itchy mine will be.
Unless I get hives, which is what hits me when Brandon asks, “Were you aware CJ was participating in your father’s underground fighting circuit?”
After stabbing my fork into my meal with enough aggression for his throat to work hard to swallow, I answer, “I had a feeling a few months before I discovered it the hard way.” Brandon isn’t the only one shocked by the honesty in my tone. I’m blown away by it as well. “CJ was a good fighter. He was also willing to do anything to get into our father’s good graces, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.”
Once again, I’m being straight-up honest. CJ had world-class skills. He just wasn’t in charge of his battles. That day, Isaac walked away with the champion’s belt. If CJ hadn’t given up on life, he could have claimed victory on their next bout.
Brandon gives me a sympathetic look. It makes me hate him even more. I loathe people who feel sorry for me without having the faintest clue my biggest battle is also my most unknown. It’s kind of like depression. Just because you can’t see the illness eating you away doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It’s there, gnawing at you for every second of every day. You’ve just got to be stronger than it.
My thoughts shift from the present to the past when Brandon asks, “Were you aware Isaac Holt fought under your father?”
It’s the fight of his life not to scowl when I say, “Who?” I could add more authenticity to my lie, but I can’t be fucked. I’ve hardly slept the past four days, and I don’t have the energy for theatrics.
“Isaac Holt.” Brandon shovels a forkful of food into his mouth like he’s been on a hunger strike as long as Roxanne before he pulls a photograph out of the pocket of his swanky trousers. The shoddy pixilation from being zoomed in reveals it’s an image from an FBI file, much less its markings. It has ‘confidential’ stamped all over it. “This was obtained at an event your father organized.”
When Brandon’s eyes lift to gauge my response to his inaccurate statement, I stray my eyes away, acting disinterested. “Isaac didn’t fight for my father.” I shrug before giving him a tidbit of information on my family’s inner workings, hopeful it will see him offering leniency when I cash in a future favor. “Col wanted him to, but Isaac wasn’t budging. We put steps in place to make it happen.”
“We?” His one word is choked through a clump of tomato goop lodged halfway down his throat.
Just like earlier, I could sit back and watch the carnage unfold. Unfortunately, I’ve got enough issues keeping the Feds off my ass while waiting for the bodies at Roxanne’s family ranch to be identified. I don’t want another corpse added to the mix.
After pouring Brandon a glass of water, I hand it to him. He chugs down half of it before he almost chokes for the second time from me explaining, “We, as in Ophelia and me.”
His fork hits the edge of his bowl with a clatter. “Your sister helped you? Howexactly?”
Needing to hide my smirk, I dab at my lips with a stained napkin before placing the bowl I used earlier into the sink. “Our father wanted Ophelia to coerce Isaac into fighting for him—”
“So she dated him to deceive him?”
I arch my brow, wordlessly warning him he better not interrupt me again.
Confident he’s got the gist of my annoyance, I say, “No. Ophelia was never with him for that. She truly loved him.” I pause for a beat, shocked by my confession. That’s the first time I’ve admitted Ophelia loved Isaac. Up until now, I always pretended it was puppy love. “Ophelia wanted a way out—”
“Of?”
My nostrils flare as my glare picks up. I fucking warned him only seconds ago what would happen if he interrupted me again and look what he goes and does. He interrupts me—again!
“Sorry.” He tugs at the collar of his dress shirt before gesturing for me to continue.
I give him a few seconds to authenticate the level of my threat before continuing with my purge. “She wanted out of the family. If you think my father was cruel to his sons, you should have seen how he treated his daughters. Monster is too kind of a word.” The room cools drastically fast. “We knew how desperate Col was to have Isaac fight under him. We were also aware of how good of a fighter Isaac was, so we plotted for them to meet, knowing Col would use Ophelia as a bargaining chip.” I work my jaw side to side, struggling to hide the tick my confession caused. “We had no clue CJ was fighting for our father that night until it was too late. They fought. CJ lost, and Ophelia went into a blackened rage.” Eager to display our conversation won’t last long, I snatch up Brandon’s scarcely eaten meal and throw it into the sink. “That was the night of their accident.”
Although he’s disappointed his meal is ruined, Brandon’s inquisitiveness is too high to discount. “Ophelia and CJ’s?”
I jerk up my chin. “CJ spent weeks in the hospital before he vanished.” You have no idea how hard it was for me not to add, ‘to the bush’ to the end of my comment. The only reason I didn’t was my recollection that Brandon isn’t my friend. Only a handful of people know CJ’s location. My father and the Feds aren’t on that list. “Ophelia was buried with only one member of her family in attendance, and I never told a soul about the ruse we attempted to pull. I’ll take it to the grave.”As will you if this ever leaves this room.
I have no reason to voice my threat. The shudder rolling up Brandon’s back reveals he’ll take it to his grave along with me.
Curious, I ask, “What does this have to do with anything? I get you’re after Isaac, but the fight circuit you’re talking about has been running for decades. The Feds are well aware of its existence. They’re not disbanding it for a reason. For intel…” My words trail off when Brandon echoes my confession. “So why are you bringing up old ghosts?”
