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“It’s just part of life.” I shrugged.
“Two seconds after telling you the truth and I see things so much more clearly.” He held me close. “I have to go, but you’ll be here when I get home.”
“Wait. We need to talk about how we’re going to get you out of this. Where are you going?”
“To get some answers.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Daniel
Twenty-Five Years Earlier
“Who the fuck is it?”
I balled my fist and pounded on the door again at the sound of my father’s voice. A roach skittered in front of my foot and through the wide gap under the door of room 213.I hope he steps on it barefoot.
The window air conditioning unit kicked on, a pitiful whine that morphed into an overworked wheeze as it strained to keep up in the heat. Pink paint peeled from the edge of the door frame revealing the piss-yellow that had coated the metal before. Six Michelob bottles were lined up against the railing across from the room next door, divots in the cement walkway in front of them. Target practice at close range.
The curtain moved. Seconds later, the door opened. My father’s evil face appeared, and his smug expression made my stomach drop. He’d lured me again. I knew better than to come to this dump of a motel, yet I’d done it anyway.
His cheap-ass suit reeked of even cheaper cigars. To think I’d once believed my father to be a sharp dresser. Once I’d seen men in real tailored suits, I realized he was just a piss-poor imitation.
He raked his eyes over my own suit, judging me down to my shoes. “Well, well. Aren’t we the big man?”
My fingernails dug into my palms as I struggled to contain my temper. He was making fun of me when he wanted something from me? I had to get out of there.
“We’re done here.”
I took a step toward the stairs and he caught me by the shoulder. “The hell we are.” He squeezed and dragged me into the room. We were the same height now, but I hadn’t filled out yet. I worked on it every single day.
“Take your hands off me.” I surprised myself at the calm in my voice.
My father dug into my shoulder to spite me. Always had to prove a point.
“What did you have to do to earn that suit? I doubt you’ve got the balls to kill anyone,” he taunted, kicking out the one chair at the small table near the window before he dropped into it. The lamp on the nightstand put off a yellow glow in the otherwise dark room. He tipped a bottle of scotch toward an empty glass, liquid splashing out on the cracked fake-wood table.
“I’m a busy man,” I said, ignoring the jab.
He laughed, tossing half of the drink down his throat. “You’re no man. Never have been. Always hiding behind your mother’s skirts.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Donottalk about her.”
“Try and stop me.” He polished off the drink and looked at me like I was nothing. “Once that cunt got you, she never wanted to put out anymore. She was a hell of a fighter, I’ll give her that, but not strong enough to keep me from fucking her whenever I wanted to. I don’t know why I bothered—”
I had my hands wrapped around his throat before he finished the sentence. His eyes widened as I picked him up from his seat and slammed him against the wall. He grabbed at my forearms and struggled to loosen my grip. Fury fueled me. I was too strong, and I enjoyed it as he fought me and lost.
“I deserved more than what she had for enduring her buttoned-up pussy,” he managed to say through his shrinking windpipe. I increased the pressure, my knuckles turning white. “Like. A. Robot,” he said between breaths. His eyes danced. He didn’t think I’d kill him. He thought I was a joke.
“Shame she died so young,” he coughed out. ”Don’t you think?”
My ears rang as the implication of his words bounced around in my head. I demanded an answer without saying a word, and he smiled. I cut off his airflow, snarling as I gripped his neck with all the force I had.
“You son of a bitch.” I shook him as rage unlike I’d ever known took hold.
He turned white, but there was no fear in his eyes. “You’re just like me,” he rasped, his hands clutching me. “You can’t change your genes any more than you can change your destiny.”
The words were a gut punch, breaking through the haze of anger. If I killed him, I would be no better than him. I refused to be my father’s son. My head cleared as I realized this.
