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“Please sit down,” Aviss barked. She marched to the head of the table, one hand resting on her weapon. “You’re here because there are active threats against your lives. I don’t care about family arguments.”
“I can take care of myself and my family.” Her father turned his glare on Aviss. “You people only make us weaker, taking away my guns.” His hand went to his empty holster.
“You’ll get it back when you leave. Please sit.” Aviss maintained eye contact with Sam’s blustering father while dropping into her seat at the head of the table.
Trevor’s dad plopped down. “Let’s get this over with. Stupid waste of time.”
“Dear, hear them out. Please.” Trevor’s mom sat next to his dad.
Sam’s mom sat in a chair along the wall, behind her father. She trembled and wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. Sam wanted to go to her and find out what horrors she’d endured, but she couldn’t. If she expected their fathers to listen, she had to provide a good example. Not that either man thought much of her.
Aviss threw a sheaf of glossy photos across the table, so they fanned out in front of their fathers. Each picture had one or two of their parents, plus a threatening individual nearby. “The armed men in those photos are known enforcers for the Russian mob, also known as the Bratva. They deal drugs, buy and sell humans, run illegal gambling, and many other terrible things. They protect their interests brutally because there are literally billions at stake. Due to various factors beyond the control of Ms. Kerr, Mr. Mills, or any of their associates, the Bratva is determined to use Marcus for money laundering. Unchecked, that influence will grow, until Marcus is entirely run by the mob. You saw what happened to Deb’s Bakery. She’ll recover, because she didn’t start this fight and the town loves her.”
She tapped the table once, the thud resounding. “If you start a war, the town will not love you. They will hate you for the collateral damage. Armed warfare is a bad idea. Besides, you’ll only end up arrested and in prison because I won’t condone murder. Then you’ll end up dead. You won’t survive inside. We have a plan to get the mob out of Marcus, but it depends on Ms. Kerr and Mr. Mills. They cannot concentrate on their part if they’re worried about you. I’m asking all of you to spend one week in a secure location. After that, either this situation will be under control, or we’ll be dead.”
“Or wish we were.” At Aviss’s glare, Sam clamped her mouth shut. She shouldn’t ruin the impressive spiel, said almost without a breath but not rushing, either.
Her father sat down, and both men picked up pictures, then slid them to each other. Trevor’s mom got up and joined Sam’s mom, putting an arm around her and whispering in her ear. In less than thirty seconds, the two men were discussing the threat together, and before a minute passed, Trevor had joined in. Sam kept her mouth shut. Neither man would listen to her; the only reason they’d paid attention to Aviss was her legal authority. And the gun on her hip.
Finally, they both relaxed back in their chairs. Trevor’s father spoke first. “We’ll go if my other son comes, too. I’m sure he’s also at risk.”
Aviss nodded. “Yes. Thank you, that’s very helpful. We’ll keep an eye on your daughter and her family as well, but currently, we haven’t found a threat there. We’ve searched for surveillance and Bratva but haven’t found anything in her vicinity.”
Sam’s father’s lip curled. “We’ll go, but only if she”—he jabbed his forefinger at her like a sword—“stays away from him.” He slid his accusing finger to Trevor.
Sam couldn’t hold back a glare, but she kept her mouth shut. Her father wouldn’t pay attention to anything she said, so Mills and Aviss could argue the case.
“Mr. Kerr, Mr. Mills is protecting your daughter. It’s his sworn duty, as assigned by me. The FBI doesn’t care about personal relationships unless they interfere with duty. I don’t have a ton of people.” Aviss’s eyebrows rose. “Besides, if you ask Sam, I’m sure she’ll set you straight on that idea.”
Sam stared straight into her father’s eyes. “We’re not in a romantic relationship. But even if we were, it’s none of your business. I’m an adult, not chattel. You have no input into my life, period.”
Her father sneered. “That was my last attempt. You’re not my daughter. You’re not part of this family. You’re nothing but a whore.”
She stared at him, and he looked away. “Believe what you want, but you’ll reap what you sow,” she said. He sputtered, but she ignored him. Rising, she rounded the table and crouched in front of her mother. Her mom shook but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Mom, I love you. When you decide to leave, let me know. I’ll protect you.”
A scuffle broke out behind her, but she didn’t bother to look. If her father attacked, she’d have him arrested. Maybe that would get her mom to listen. “Mom, I mean it. I do this for free, all the time. I can make sure he never hurts you again.”
“I won’t leave. I’m a loyal helpmeet.” Her mother raised her chin, shaking even harder, but still wouldn’t look at Sam. The yellow and green remains of a fading bruise decorated her cheek. Sam clenched her fists, desperate to reach out but knowing it was the wrong thing to do.
“Martha, you will repudiate that woman, now! She’s nothing to us.” Her father’s voice rose.
Mom opened her mouth, but no words came out. She finally met Sam’s gaze, tears streaming down her face, her agony crystal clear.
Sam’s heart broke. Her father was a cruel, evil man to torture her mother. “I love you, Mom, no matter what. Remember that.” She rose and turned, glaring at her despicable father, struggling to pull away from Trevor and his dad’s hold on his beefy arms. “You’re nothing but a bully, beating up the weak. I’d let the Bratva take you out, but I love Mom too much. When she leaves you, I’ll be waiting.” She turned her back on him and held out her hand, looking down at her mother’s bowed head. “You can come with me now, Mom, and live for real, instead of surviving in constant fear and pain.” Sam counted to five, ignoring her father’s yelling, then left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She walked down the hall and leaned against the wall. Closing her eyes, she breathed in through her nose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t force her mother to accept help. She had to make the choice.
Her father bellowed, and chairs crashed. At a high, thin cry, Sam ran back to the conference room. The door opened, and Mrs. Mills led her mom out, sobbing. Sam held out her arms. Mrs. Mills shook her head and mouthed, “Wait.” She pulled Sam’s mom close, whispering in her ear.
Sam forced herself to step back, leaning against the wall again. Trevor’s dad might hate her, but Mrs. Mills wasn’t mean. She’d always been polite, if not enthusiastic, after Trevor’s self-destruction, and her religion hadn’t been twisted by power-hungry, cruel men.
One of the other FBI agents trotted down the hall and entered the conference room. Her father continued roaring—mostly threats against Aviss. Which wasn’t smart. Trevor’s father came out, shaking his head. “He’s completely out of control. Janine, bring Martha, and we’ll wait for Special Agent Aviss out front.” He walked away without even glancing at Sam.
Mrs. Mills followed, pulling Sam’s mom with her. “Hang in there, Samantha. It will all work out.”
“Thank you for taking care of my mom.” Sam closed her eyes, trying to forget the devastation on her mom’s face.
When the conference room door opened, Trevor exited. “Come on, we’re leaving. Your—”He grimaced, then continued, “Mr. Kerr is under arrest for assault.” Trevor held up his hand at Sam’s gasp. “On a federal agent. He took a swing at Aviss when she stepped between him and your mom. Connected, too, but Aviss anticipated that and went with the blow, so she’s not hurt, although she’ll probably end up with a black eye. Come on.” He jerked his head toward the back of the building. “Nothing more you can do. We’ve got a new vehicle waiting and our stuff is already in it. Let’s go. Stay aware and look for threats, but be casual about it. Shove the personal stuff away until we’re safe.” He turned away.
Sam followed Trevor out, her heart bleeding for her mom, torn between her husband and child. Maybe Trevor’s parents could convince her to leave, but Sam doubted her mom would stay away from her father. She’d seen too many victims stay or return to their abusers, unable to bear the guilt or adapt to the change. At least her father’s actions had real consequences for once. He’d always been strict, but since Sam’s refusal to return home and the radicalization of their religion, he’d obviously gotten far worse. Perhaps, just like Trevor and his father, there had been monetary consequences to her “willfulness” back in college. That would explain his unreasonable fury. She wouldn’t put it past him to have sold her into marriage. He’d always believed children owed their parents complete obedience. She’d had his belt across her backside often enough as a child.
