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“I can and I will, Clara Everett. I don’t care if he’s fucking Don Corleone—yeah, I picked up on your vibe real quick, sir, so don’t even try to deny it. It’s one thing for a dirty cop to go missing. But a crime lab tech? Good luck makingthatlook like an accident.”
Demyen actually seems impressed. He’s trying not to laugh, but he gives her a concessional nod she can’t see. “Alright. We have an agreement. I’ll protect your girls and you’ll owe me a favor or two down the line when I’m… shall we say, ‘stuck’?”
Roxy falls quiet. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to make deals with the devil when her voice cuts back in. “Done.”
“Roxy—” I begin to protest.
“Clara, I love you, but shut it. I’d rather lose my job protecting his ass than lose you or Willow.” Her voice suddenly cracks with emotion. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.” She clears her throat. “Besides, better for him to pull the trigger than me. I’m better at cleaning up messes than making them.”
I sigh. She has a point. “I love you, Rox.”
“Ditto, Clara. Give Silly Willy big hugs from me, okay?”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. When I glance at him, I see that Demyen’s brow still hasn’t descended. “Your friend?—”
“She didn’t mean anything by it, I swear!” I nearly leap out of my chair to placate him. I’ll deepthroat his soul through his dick if it’ll keep him away from harming Roxy.
But he quickly holds a hand up to stop me. “I have no beef with her. It’s good to know you’ve got someone out there who cares about you.”
I… was not expecting that.
We sit there in silence for a moment. Then he nods down at the phone in my hand. “It’s time.”
I sigh. “Yeah.” But instead of Martin, I pull up Dad’s number and hit Dial. I place it on the desk for Demyen to see. He frowns, but pulls out his own phone and starts recording.
“Clara! Oh, thank God.”
Now, I’m frowning. It’s not like Dad to sound so concerned. “Hey, Dad.” I don’t know what to say; he’s the one who called me. “What’s up?”
“‘What’s up’? Clara, what the hell is going on? You’re all over the news and the precinct?—”
I sigh. “I know. It’s a… a terrible misunderstanding, is all.”
“Why did you kidnap Willow?”
I freeze. “What?”
Dad scoffs. “I don’t understand, Clar-Bear. I thought you two were good. And now, Martin’s saying you up and left him in the middle of the night? And you kidnapped Willow?—”
“Dad! Dad,” I immediately drop my voice. He hates it when I shout. Or when I talk back to him. Or whenever I generally disagree with him. “That’s not what happened. At all.”
He pauses. “Okay. Okay. Tell me what happened.”
“Martin…” I look up at Demyen. He sits there, stoic. But he nods for me to continue. “He hit me, Dad. A lot. Martin hit me that night, too, and I just?—”
“Well, what did you do?”
Again, I freeze. I try to swallow back the sudden lump in my throat. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Well, obviously you didsomething, Clar-Bear.” He sounds so sympathetic, but his words curdle in my stomach. “You know how Martin is. He runs a tight ship. And you know how you are…”
I see Demyen’s fingers tighten around the arms of his chair. For some reason, that actually bolsters my confidence. “No, tell me: howamI, Dad?”
He sighs. “Now, we don’t have to get into this?—”
“I think we do. How am I? How do I deserve to be treated like Martin’s punching bag?”
Or yours, for that matter?
