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Gallo still wants me dead. Frost probably wants me chained up in a basement somewhere churning out paintings. The second I’m released home, they’ll find me, and my life will be much, much worse.
It’s scary, how Erick really is protecting me, even though he’s the one that drugged me and dragged me here.
Nicky, hey!!!! Listen, I am SO SORRY that I haven’t gotten in touch until right now. I swear I’m okay!! I got this last-minute opportunity to go to this crazy intense art retreat up in Maine. No phones, no computers, I have to write this from an actual internet cafe like it’s 1998. I’m fine! If I don’t write again it’s because I’m sitting in this gorgeous little cabin surrounded by nature doing yoga half the day and painting the other half. Please don’t worry! I’m all good!
I hate that email. I hate it so much. It’s all lies, and I don’t want to lie to Nicky, but I’ve already crossed the line. Here I am, on the other side. My father’s daughter, building her con.
I hit send and feel like I might be sick.
This is my chance to escape, but I’m not taking it.
I scroll more, ready to close this window and forget this portal to the outside world exists, when I see one more message.
It arrived five days ago and it’s nearly buried under the advertisements.
I stare at the sender’s name.
Danny Accardi.
My flesh and blood.
Good old Dad.
I click open like I’m throwing myself into a haunted house and read through his message three times before it starts to make sense.
Hi, Hellie, I know you’re pissed. I know you’re mad I did what I did and disappeared, but honey, things aren’t what they seem. Are they ever with dear old dad? Honey, please, don’t reply to this email, but we’ve got to talk, and it has to be in person. Meet me off the Strip in the Coconut Gorge casino. Go all the way back to the pai gow tables. I’ll be at one of those. Meet me seven days from this message at 6pm. You got it, kiddo? I love you, Hellie. I’m sorry too. See you soon, I hope. Dad.
I blink away the tears. Fuck Dad. Fuck him. And fuck him for sending that damn email. That came in five days ago, which means he wants to meet in two days—which isn’t going to happen. There’s no way Erick will ever let me, and I can’t tell him about this anyway, because then he’ll catch Dad and do terrible things, and I just can’t. Even though I’m so pissed at my old man, I won’t let them torture him.
Which means I’m screwed.
I can either try to run away and make that meeting.
Or I let it go and I’ll never find out what the hell Dad’s talking about.
I delete the email without replying. Tears stream down my face. Angry tears, frustrated tears. How am I going to get to Coconut Gorge in two days without anyone finding out?
Because if I’m followed—Dad’s dead.
I log out, clear the history, pull his windows up, and make it look like nobody ever sat at the computer.
Then I go to the studio because there’s nothing to do right now but think and paint.
Chapter26
Erick
Iwalk the floor of my casino with Ren by my side. I try to do this at least once or twice a week—but lately, I’ve been distracted by the gorgeous painter girl I have working her ass off back in my house.
She’s everywhere for me, from the moment I wake to the moment I fall asleep and everything between.
“Quiet day,” Ren remarks as a group of young men wearing business suits all cheer around a craps table. “Wonder how much damage they’re doing?”
“We’ll get them in the end.” I pause near one of the bars and signal for a drink. “Want something?”
“I’m fine.” Ren gazes into the crowd, always looking for threats. Take the man from the streets, but the streets don’t ever leave the man. That’s why he’s my number two—paranoid to the end, and I love him for it. “I meant to tell you this earlier, but you seemed like you were worried about other things. I figure now’s a good opportunity.”
“You’re keeping things from me now?” My whiskey arrives and I take a long sip. Drinking on the job’s almost required for me. I’m the damn boss, and people want to see me acting like it.
