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“Your grandfather. That’s why the Panagos took a shot at us. He didn’t fucking pay them when I told them he would.”
She’s quiet for a long moment and I suddenly regret making this call. I should’ve waited until I got back to Philly to tell her in person, because at least then I could pull her against me and kiss her and tell her everything would be okay. Instead, I’m on the phone, fucking impotent.
Finally, though, she speaks up, and she sounds far away. “Carmine, listen. My dad’s out on bail.”
I feel like someone shoved a piece of molten steel down my throat. “He fuckingwhat?”
“I know, it’s crazy, but the judge approved it last night and he’s out now and—” She takes a deep breath. “He’s here. In Philadelphia.”
“Brice,” I say, my voice a harsh growl. An edge of panic slices into my guts. “Don’t you dare go speak to him. Do you hear me?”
“I’m sorry, Carmine, but he says it’s important. I don’t know, I didn’t plan on telling you, but apparently Daddy is taking a big risk leaving Texas and coming here.”
“Brice. Do not speak to your father. He’s going to fuck you up and poison you.Don’t speak to him.”
She’s quiet for another long moment, and when she speaks again, I can barely recognize her. “I’m honestly surprised by your reaction right now, but please, don’t worry about it. I’m meeting him at the Hilton in the lobby, it’s a big hotel and really public, so it’ll be fine. We’ll be safe.”
“Brice—”
“Look, I have to go, he said he’ll be there in ten minutes and I don’t know this city at all. But hey, it’s a grid right, so it can’t be that hard? Maybe I can get someone to drive me. Anyway, I’ll call you after and tell you how it went.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at it like I can barely understand what just happened. How the fuck did her father make bail, and who the hell flew him out to Philly? There’s no way he could’ve gone commercial, which means someone with a private plane snuck him out and flew a major felon awaiting trial out to another state, which is itself a goddamn felony. The layers of insanity and stupidity and downright evil makes my head spin.
There’s only a small handful of people involved in this mess that would do something so brazen and crazy, and none of them are good.
I need to get back to Philadelphiaright fucking now.
I get into the limo. “Airport. Go fast.”
The driver nods and we pull out.
Chapter19
Brice
“Are you sure Carmine said this was okay?” Angelo stares at me from outside the limo’s window frowning as people walk past like he wants to pat down every stranger that gets within ten feet of me.
“It’s totally fine, don’t worry. I’m just meeting with my dad. You don’t have to wait around.”
Angelo snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, fucking right, and let Carmine cut out my spine because I left you here alone? Good luck with that. Tell your old man I said what’s up.” He shifts lower in the seat, turns up the radio, and leans his head against the headrest. “Scream really loud if you need me.”
I smile to myself and hurry away. The Hilton’s lobby is a brightly lit and extremely quiet room with lots of leather armchairs, several couches, and the welcome desk straight ahead. The employees are busy helping an older couple and I slip past them easily, walking slowly into the sparse room, and there he is, sitting with a man I don’t recognize in the far corner.
Daddy looks tired. I go to him, smiling tentatively, not sure how to feel. My hands are trembling and a drop of sweat rolls down my back. I should be happy—my father’s out of jail, this should be a good thing—but I can’t stop thinking about what he did to our family. The last time I saw him was the visit at the prison and that didnotgo well, but this man looks like someone totally different. His hair is cut, his beard is shaved, and he’s wearing his usual expensive but understated clothes. He’s even got a nice tan like he spent an hour at the beach before coming here. Daddy’s almost looking like himself again, but not quite, like there’s still something off about him.
“Sweetie,” he says and I let him pull me into a hug. He smells like he always does, like lotion and aftershave, and I feel myself getting yanked back into my old ways, and already I’m thinking,Daddy can fix all thisandDaddy’s here and now I’m safebut it’s Daddy’s fault that I’m in this situation at all. I’m conflicted and more than a little confused but he pulls back, smiling huge, his eyes shining brightly, and he turns to gesture at the man standing a respectful distance away.
“Honey,” Dad says, “this is Stephen Panagos.”
My jaw drops and I try to get away as panic takes over and a scream lodges itself in my throat but I can’t seem to break free. Daddy grips my arm and confusion slips into his expression as I look between the them, my brain melting down. Stephen is an older man in his sixties with dark salt-and-pepper hair, baggy clothes, and a lean face. He has the expression of an undertaker, somehow both morbid and reassuring, and he doesn’t move to come closer like he can tell I’m absolutely freaking out right now.
“What?” I manage to say finally. “Daddy, how, what, why, this is—” I try to pull away, try to run, but Daddy holds on tightly.
“I know this is strange, but please, sweetie, sit down and listen.” He guides me to a chair and I sit woodenly, every fiber of my body telling me to get up and run the hell away. I’m in Philadelphia because this man, this Stephen Panagos tried to kill me in cold blood. Now I’m sitting across from him and he’s smiling at me politely, and my father’s acting like this is totally normal.
It’s not normal. Not remotely normal.
