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“He did. And he kept doing it. Look where you are. Still making excuses for him, even when you’re the one cleaning up his mess, yet again. No wonder Cole left you behind. How could he look at you without seeing the daughter of the man who took everything from him?”
“I don’t blame Sunday for her father’s mistakes,” I grit out.
Michael’s laugh is hollow. “Yes, you do. Otherwise, you would’ve married her, pumped her full of kids, and not turned into the monster you are.”
My rage burns through me, threatening to leave nothing behind, but not because he’s right.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t look at her. It was the painful realization that telling her the truth would have shattered the image she had of her dad. If she’d believed me, she’d lose him, and would’ve blamed herself for what happened. Whatever we had would’ve broken. We’d never, ever be the same. I walked away because I’d rather she have someone, even if that person wasn’t me.
“What was it you said to her after you proposed?” Michael asks. “No more lies?”
I close my eyes, cursing myself. I should have checked more thoroughly for cameras. I should have assumed they’d be listening somehow.
I underestimated them.
My brain hums, and I run through a thousand scenarios, but none of them end well. Every man at this table will want me dead, and I’m massively outnumbered, despite my skills.
Michael sets down his cutlery and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Now we’ve all had honesty hour, I think it’s time you tell me how much information you’ve leaked to your friends, and do not test my fucking patience.”
Darcy is almost vibrating with excitement, her eyes wide and bright. “Daddy’s mad.”
Felton looks unconvinced, though. “Dad, are you sure—”
“Close your fucking mouth, Felton,” Michael barks. “You brought a rat into your home, let him eat at your table, probably let him fuck your wife-to-be. As of this moment, you have no say in this business. You’ll be lucky if I don’t disown you. You’re a fucking embarrassment.”
Felton looks like a wounded animal, his shoulders dipping. “But dad, he can’t be a cop, I’ve seen him kill people. They can’t do that shit.”
“His little force can,” Michael says simply. “Not exactly within the law, are you, Cole?”
As he talks, I’m strategizing. Exits. Weapons. Anything I can use to at least hold men back while Sunday gets to safety. Two hours felt doable before, but now it’s a death sentence.
Sunday has the knife, and she has to go now. We discussed the plan if anything went wrong, and I can only hope that the news about her dad hasn’t thrown her into a spiral that could kill her.
Michael reaches into his jacket and places a Glock on the table between us, his hand resting on the weapon. “Start talking, Cole.”
“You can have me,” I say simply. “But you let Sunday go.”
Michael shakes his head. “That’s not how this is going to work. You both die, and you die slowly.”
“Can I have her?” Darcy asks, almost panting with excitement. “I want to play with Sunday.”
“Run, Sunday,” I say, and she looks at me. A hundred words pass between us in a look, and despite the lies and heartbreak, I can tell she doesn’t want to leave me behind. “Run and do not stop.” She kicks off her heels, jumps out of her chair, and runs.
Darcy hops out of her seat, jumping up and down. “Yes! Run, Sunday, run!” She looks at the other guests. “Who wants to play Catch Sunday?”
Christian finishes his drink and stands. “I do.”
Darcy claps, picking up a steak knife and twisting it in her fingers. “First person to catch her gets to make her scream first.”
Chapter 14
Sunday
Panic blurs my path. The hallways look the same. Cole told me to go back to the bedroom and barricade the door, hold out for as long as I could if this went wrong.
It went wrong. So wrong, so fucking fast. The moment Michael said Cole’s name, my hope of escape shattered. Cole could die. Slowly, painfully … I could lose him all over again. And my dad. The lies, the betrayal, everything, is clouded by grief that I don’t have time to feel.
“Oh, Sunday!” Darcy calls out. “Where’s my bestie at?”
