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But surely Damien Malik wouldn’t talk openly about any kind of legacy that he’d get investigated for.
As I gave some noncommittal answer that I barely paid attention to, the teen by the restaurant adjusted his position, sidling closer to the gate. The furtiveness of his movements put me on the alert. He was doing an okay job of being subtle, but I was trained to recognize when someone had a trick up their sleeve. What was he doing?
I got my answer a moment later when he brushed his hand across the back of a nearby woman’s chair—and let his fingers snag on the strap of her purse.
Damien had swiveled in his chair at the same moment to check the board of specials. The kid was being sneaky, but not sneaky enough—he obviously wasn’t any hardened criminal. As he jerked the purse off the chair, my father leapt to his feet with a shout.
The young teen looked terrified as my father rushed him and grabbed his arm in a death grip. My pulse stuttered even though I didn’t exactly approve of making off with people’s purses. It was just—he really was just a kid—and the whitening of his face with the tremor that passed through his body showed how ashamed he was at getting caught.
Something had driven him to this point, and I didn’t think it was simply callous greed.
“Call the police,” Malik shouted out, and turned to the victim of the theft, handing her the purse he’d pried from the boy’s fingers. “He almost made off with this.”
Someone at a nearby table gasped, and a few others pulled out their phones as if the petty theft required multiple reports. As if this kid really needed to be arrested. He was trembling now, looking seconds from wetting his pants.
I couldn’t just sit there. My heart thumping, I pushed myself to my feet and marched over. Damien dragged the boy toward the gate to wait for the police, and as I reached him, I realized his grip on the boy’s wrist was even tighter than I’d assumed. He twisted his fingers, and the boy winced in pain. His fingers had balled into a fist.
“What else have you stolen, you little creep?” my father said under his breath in the harshest tone I’d ever heard him use. He jerked his hand down to pry the boy’s fingers open, but there was nothing there. With a sharp exhalation, Damien twisted his grip again—and the crack of breaking bone made me flinch.
The boy yelped, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.
“Garbage like you deserves what you get,” Damien hissed. He turned and noticed my presence for the first time. His face reformed into its usual professional mask—he mustn’t have thought anyone was close enough to notice.
“First he tries to rob people, then he thinks he can run off without facing the proper punishment,” he said, as if the boy had been making a run for it. “He twisted his hand while I was pulling him back. No one to blame but himself. The police will sort it out.”
That wasn’t what had happened at all, but I had no idea how to challenge the ‘facts’ he laid out so easily. How would he look at me if I sided with the kid? Everyone around us was nodding in agreement, accepting his explanation.
If he’d been anyone else, I’d have torn him a new one right there and then. But this incident only proved that I really didn’t know the man I was dealing with. And getting into a public altercation with a man with as much political clout as my father blind felt like a very bad idea. What if this was just the tip of an ominous iceberg?
The police roared up with blaring sirens. Malik handed over the kid, getting the woman to tell the story of her nearly stolen purse.
“He broke my finger,” the boy said with a sob, cradling his hand to his chest. “He broke my fucking finger.”
Malik rolled his eyes, giving the boy a small shove toward the officer who rested a large hand across his shoulder. “He was trying to get away, and it was all I could do to stop him. I didn’t mean to break it, of course.”
He sounded so convincing. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed that he’d fractured the boy’s bones with malicious intent. How could he lie so blatantly without an ounce of hesitation in his tone?
The officer looked between them. “I can take it from here, Representative Malik. Your community is indebted to you once again.”
The brilliant smile my father gave the officer sickened me. I stepped backward and moved swiftly to my seat. They exchanged a few pleasantries and a handshake as the other officer loaded up the kid in his car.
My father came back over, his mood darker than it had been at the start of our brunch. He looked at me with a grimace, and I wondered if he’d apologize for his actions and admit that he’d been out of line after all.
“I’m sorry that you had to be here for this,” he said, dropping into his chair. “If you hadn’t realized it before, the crime rates in this neighborhood are rising just like they are everywhere. It’s tragic, but that’s why it’s essential that we crack down on the criminals whenever they pop up. That boy deserves everything that will come to him.”
Did that include the cast and recovery for his injury?
I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I took a sip of my lemonade and listened as Damien continued his rant about crime, not even considering that lying to the police and breaking a boy’s finger was a heinous crime within itself. Did he think he was excluded from the law?
As long as he broke it punishing criminals, it seemed like yes.
As he simmered down and our food arrived, my stomach knotted. It was all I could do to choke down a decent amount of the meal. The truth of the situation was staring me in the face so hard I couldn’t deny it anymore.
Iwas a criminal—one far worse than that kid. There wasn’t a chance in a million years that he’d ever accept the true me or the men I considered family too. He wouldn’t want to believe it, but when he did, he’d be sending me off to the electric chair. Maybe offering to throw the switch himself.
I’d known that, deep down. I’d been afraid of how he’d see the truth all along. But I’d let myself be lulled into complacency by how welcoming they’d been in general. I’d never had to face just how intense my father’s dedication to his policies was until right now.
While the waitress cleared our plates, promising to bring the bill quickly, I debated simply walking away from this brunch and this whole situation. Never speaking to Damien Malik or the rest of my birth family again. All the enjoyment I’d gotten out of having a family around me had soured with this unavoidable revelation.
What did I need them for if they couldn’t handle who I really was? I didn’t want to have to listen to any more of their rants or watch how they treated anyone they judged as unworthy of compassion.
I’d been foolish to think I could ever have a real relationship with this man at all, given his policies.
The urge to cut my losses and run wound through my limbs as Damien paid the check. It would be so easy. So freeing to put all the stress and pressure of trying to be Rachel Malik behind me. I could almost taste the relief.
But… I still needed answers.
As much as I wanted to leave and never look back, Malik and his investigators were in the best position to find the answers I needed about who had kidnapped me and why. Continuing to act like family with these people might be like playing with fire, but I wasn’t done here yet for my own ends.
If my father found out the truth about me and my past before I learned what I needed to, he’d turn on me without hesitation. They all would. I knew that without a doubt. But it was a risk I’d just have to take.
