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I frown. “Who?”
“One of my lieutenants.” He clears his throat and hocks a loogie on the ground. “I got money missing. Details being overlooked. Shit fallin’ by the wayside, you know?”
“And what the hell do you want me to do about it?”
He chuckles, a sound like blending concrete. “Well, it’s not like I can call the cops and have them investigate.”
“What do I look like? Sherlock fucking Holmes?”
“You look like the man who’s gonna solve my problem, son.” He hands me a folded paper. “This is a list of my top guys.”
I clench my teeth and shove it into my pocket. Then I stop walking and wheel around to face him. “This is the only favor,” I warn. “Once this is done, I’m out and you leave me and Sloan the fuck alone. Forever.”
He cocks his head. “You never had much loyalty to our family, Beckett. So it’s got me tickled to see you all high and mighty about starting a family of your own. Don’t even botherprotesting; I got enough eyes on you to know you’re positively fucking giddy about this girl of yours. It’s just got me thinking, and I figured that maybe I failed you as a daddy. Didn’t raise you right, though Lord knows I tried plenty. In my own way, of course. Still—better late than never. So you’re gonna do this for me, because that’s what family does. And I’d hate to see you fuck yours up before you even get started. Know what I mean?”
His eyes are two glowing coals in the night, with the third eye of his cigarette cherry burning like a falling star. I’m not stupid; I know he just threatened me, threatened Sloan, and something in that oily speech of his makes me wonder if he somehow knows about our baby, too.
I swallow. This is fucked. This is all so goddamn fucked.
That’s the main thought spinning through my head. But there are a thousand others, too, each worse than the last. I don’t know how Sloan knows Bobby or why she’s giving him money. I only hope for her sake that she didn’t take a loan from him.
I’ve seen people who borrowed money from him and how badly that turns out. He’s the kind of guy who ups the interest at will and breaks kneecaps for missed payments. The Bloodhound, as they call him in his circles, uses terror to make sure the payments keep coming long after the debt is paid.
If she’s in his debt, he’ll never let her go.
“I’ll find out more,” I growl. “But this is it. I mean it. Clean break once this shit is done. When you get your rat, we’re no longer family.”
My father just chuckles and walks away.
The drive home takes me through a snarl of traffic. It gives me time to sort my thoughts, to figure out what the fuck is going on. But by the time I pull into the drive, I’m not any closer to figuring out a damned thing that’s happening or how Sloan ended up on Bobby’s radar.
My skin is the only thing holding me together. I’m furious at my father, but that’s nothing new. I’m furious at his threats, but that’s old hat also.
Sloan is the new piece to a very old puzzle. I want to know how she fits in. I want to know what the fuck she’s been hiding from me.
When I walk inside, the kitchen is dark and the TV is the only light in the living room. “Hi,” she squeaks. “Meeting go okay?” I don’t know how she can tell I’m pissed, but she clicks the TV off and turns around so she’s facing me. “Beck?”
I force myself to breathe. I need to go slow here. “How the fuck do you know Bloodhound?”
Whoops.Not so slow.
Her brow pinches. “What?”
It’s exactly the wrong answer. I see it in the slope of her forehead wrinkles, the purse of her lips: she’s trying to think of a lie or a truth that’s not so bad. I can’t really blame her; it’s what I would be doing right now if I hadn’t already decided to tell her the truth.
“How much do you owe him?”
I’m trying to tell her who he is to me, to work up the courage to admit that I’m related to that miserable excuse for a human being, but I’m failing. So for now, I’ll concentrate on her.
She swallows hard. I wait for an answer that isn’t coming.
“How do you know him?” I press. “How much do you owe him?”
She sighs, looks away, and gnaws her lip. “A lot.” When she glances at me again, tears are threatening a quick getaway down her cheeks. “I honestly don’t even know how much anymore.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What would you have done?” she says desperately. “I can’t keep relying on you to save me, Beck. I have to save myself. So before you even offer, no, I don’t want your money. This is my mess. The Bloodhound is my problem, not yours.”
