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“I don’t know, Soph. Honestly, this isn’t a great time to talk.”

“Well, I think she is still mad. I tried to talk to her when she visited but she totally ignored me. She was here talk to the boys and I don’t even know why because I was kicked out of the room.”

Sophie’s offhand nugget of information is unsettling. I’ve never pushed Fiona to share more details of her life story than she was comfortable with. For me, it was enough that she proved to be a loyal friend and ally. As I’ve spent less and less time on the east side, I’ve come to rely on her more and more.

Fiona has never given me any reason to doubt her. Still, I felt blindsided when Conner told me what Gage’s undercover efforts revealed. Whatever else she is, Fiona is clearly a gifted actress.

And now she’s taking meetings with my enemies.

Meetings she hasn’t bothered to tell me about.

That will need to be dealt with. I’d hate to think that a reasonable explanation might not exist. There are few people I would classify as true friends. Fiona is among them.

“Sophie, listen. Sorry to cut this short but I have an appointment I need to get to.”

On the other end, there’s a long beat of silence.

“Mm’kay,” Sophie says slowly, with a lack of enthusiasm. “I have things to tell you but I guess you don’t want to hear it so I’ll talk to you some other time.”

Sophie cuts the call off before I can respond.

“A piece of work, that one,” Lita mutters.

I’m always appreciative when my sister’s original sarcasm resurfaces.

With a chuckle, I toss my phone into my purse. Since guns aren’t permitted inside prisons for obvious reasons, I need to remove the one I’m carrying and store it in the glove compartment.

My sister watches. “Were you expecting a shootout today?”

I lock the glove compartment. “Can’t be too careful.”

She’s still looking at me. I’ve told her very little about the ugly reality of our family. She doesn’t need to deal with that stress on top of everything else.

“Let’s go.” I check the glove box once more and climb out.

Inside the prison, we need to endure multiple security checks before being shown to a small, airless room. We’re not waiting in there for long before the door opens and my father is escorted inside, wearing cuffs.

I stifle the urge to gasp. Lita doesn’t.

My father was always a powerfully built man who thrived off his talent for intimidation. Since I saw him last, the life has leached from his face and the muscles have shrunk from his bones. The lawyer had mentioned that a special diet was approved to accommodate my father’s food allergies. I wasn’t aware he had any food allergies.

His light hair has thinned from his scalp. His cheeks and eyes are sunken. His shoulders droop and he grimaces as he settles his body into the cheap metal chair on the other side of the square table.

“Ten minutes,” rasps the beefy, expressionless prison guard who stands in the corner, staring straight ahead.

Aric Marchenko, the father I’ve loved and feared and desperately craved approval from, looks into my eyes. His gaze shifts to Lita. He swallows. Then smiles.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get to see my girls together again.” His voice has lost its commanding quality.

“Hi, Dad,” Lita’s greeting is shy. Hopeful.

Our father stares at her. It seems as if his eyes mist over slightly but that would be a first. He looks back at me and puckers his mouth into a frown. “Why didn’t you bring the boy?”

Because Aileen doesn’t want her twelve-year-old son visiting a prison for any reason and I don’t blame her. Even Vito, faithfully acting as my brother’s defender, has said the kid should be protected from the truth of the situation. I’m used to the fact that Aric Marchenko prizes his son above all, but Lita might have forgotten because I feel her wilt beside me.

“Robert has school today, Dad. But you’ll be seeing him when you get out of here. It won’t be too much longer.”

For some reason this positive spin doesn’t cheer him up. The cuffs clink when he moves his hands and the guard flinches, his eyes focused this way with suspicion while one hand covers the stick hanging from his belt in case trouble erupts.

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