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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CARMEN
He comes back through the doorway, two glasses filled with amber liquid in hand. As he approaches, I straighten myself. “Thank you.” I take one of the glasses from him.
When he plops back onto the couch, he picks right up where he left off. “I couldn’t tell you why he sent me away. Probably because he blamed me for my mother’s death, but what I can tell you is boarding school was tough. They focused more on behavior than actual curriculum, which means they offered a lot of extra classes. Of course, there were the usual sports—football, basketball, swimming—but they also had meditation periods and yoga along with boxing for the kids who needed more than all the other stuff could offer.
“I figured boxing wouldn’t hurt. That way if I was ever faced with my dad again, I could hold my own. At that point, I had every intention of coming back to Bexley and giving him a taste of his own medicine, only I wouldn’t be a kid then and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me, but Ghost found me right before graduation—or an associate of his, rather. Ghost is a ghost. He doesn’t show his face.
“At first, I didn’t think he was serious, but the closer me graduating got, the more persistent he became, and I wasn’t the only kid he reached out to. I mean, the whole thing was kind of genius, really. All the kids at that school were unwanted. They weren’t missed or needed in their family. They just got dumped off to be someone else’s problem for a few years. Ghost took advantage of that.
“Because Mac wiped away my existence to the family, Ghost knew I had nothing, which meant I had nothing to lose. Along with a few of my classmates, he made us an offer we would have been stupid to refuse. Work for him, make ridiculous money, and leave everything and everyone you know behind, only it wasn’t some normal nine-to-five. We already had some knowledge pertaining to his business depending on what classes we took, so our training wasn’t as extensive. He wanted us to focus more on how to get away with what we did than actually doing it, which is why I’m still a free man today.
“His entire network is underground. One of those types of things you have to know someone who knows someone to even make contact. But the world is a big place, and someone always knows someone, so business stayed steady. I knew going into the job that if I kept contact with Carter, it would compromise him, and I never wanted that, so I stayed away.
“I had never mentioned him to anyone before because I didn’t want them to think of me as the shitty big brother who left him behind to endure the same shit I did. Selfish? Yes. But I was young. I thought it was best, and it turns out, it was. At least at first.
“I knew about my dad’s indiscretions because I kept tabs on him as much as I could, just like I did with Carter, but I didn’t know the full extent. It wasn’t until I met Bernard that everything unfolded. Normally, we’re tasked to watch clients for a few days, or even weeks, before we meet. Learn their patterns, see who they’re close to, all of that so if on some off chance we need it. So, I did that while I waited for Ghost to do a deep dive online for anything else we may need, but Bernard was impatient.
“Instead of waiting for more dirt Ghost’s techs could dig up, Ghost insisted I meet with Bernard then. He didn’t want to lose the money or contract, and I agreed. But it was a mistake. And it wasn’t until Bernard was already dead that Ghost emailed me the file of everything he found. It was clear he and my dad were close. Maybe not in person, but they definitely had a connection online through businesses, bank accounts, and all that. It took me all of five minutes to put the pieces together. I wouldn’t have even needed Bernard’s explanation as to why he wanted Carter dead to know, but it was already too late.
“I’ve held so much guilt over the years for staying away that it just kind of sent me over the edge. I blacked out. The thought of someone wanting to hurt my brother made me see fucking red. It reminded me of how my father was—what he probably did to Carter the whole time I was gone—and I wasn’t going to let that happen again.”
“So that’s the only reason you did it. To protect Carter?” I’m still processing everything else he’s said, so I start simple.
He nods. “And you.”
“Me? You didn’t even know me.”
He shrugs. “I knew enough. After we hooked up, I watched you. I saw you had ties to Carter, and I figured out who your dad was, although I didn’t realize you were his daughter. After seeing you with Bernard, I assumed you were just some sort of call girl making the rounds of Bexley Falls.”
I take a gulp of my drink and scrunch my face. “You seriously thought I was fucking my dad? Gross.”
He shrugs again. “I thought you were fucking my brother too until I saw Lydia.”
I snort. “Carter has never been my type, and if you were watching me, how did you not realize who I was?”
“I didn’t want to dig. I was already feeling myself slipping around you and didn’t want to risk it. I knew if I knew more about you, I would never be able to leave you alone. First, it was only about the connection to my brother. I felt I was closer to him through you in a weird, fucked-up way. But after being with you again, I realized it was more than that.”
“More? What, like you would want to get married and have babies?” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood from our previous conversation.
He’s silent for a beat. “No. I’m infatuated. You’re different, Carmen, and I want to know why.”
His confession makes me look away and take another sip of my drink. “I’m just another Bexley Girl with daddy issues, Cyrus.”
“Yeah? Then tell me about it,” he challenges.
I bring my gaze back to him. “There’s nothing to tell. My mom is dead, and my dad is shit. That’s that.”
My stomach starts to turn because this is not where I wanted the conversation to go. I’ve never unpacked my issues for a reason because I know if I say them out loud, I’ll be forced to deal with them. I’m not ready for that.
“I just told you how I found my mother with slit wrists when I was sixteen and you can’t tell me about yours?”
I groan internally. He has a point. I asked so much from him but never even gave him any of the things I was asking. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just skim the surface. Give him a small glimpse, then lock it all back down.
I roll my eyes. “My mom died birthing me. I never even knew her.”
“And?” He raises a brow.
