Page 65 of Secret Husband
“It’s been so many years, Papa.”
“It happened today.”
“Tell me.”
He mimicked a shoving gesture with his hands. “When I came to my senses, I was on the floor and they were gone. But they will be back.”
Over the years, I had listened to his paranoia, especially after I had first brought him to the United States and the effects of his recent imprisonment still lingered. But his confidence that he was living in a free country and was largely insulated here, evicted those fears—for good, I had thought. Luckily, he had no weapons, no means to hurt others. Maya had been made aware of his anxieties, which she said were normal behaviors for someone in his condition.
I didn’t think I would ever get used to it.
“You are safe here, Papa. No one can hurt you.” Only himself. He was deteriorating more quickly than I expected.
“They killed your mother.”
For years, he had believed this. Who knew if it was true? I wanted it to be an unfortunate accident because if it was not, he was to blame for her death. His activism, his stubbornness, his rage against the machine.
My mother’s death had left me bereft. She was the light of my life, the woman who meant the world to me. Despite my father’s claims, I had chosen to believe it was truly an accident, a mechanical failure of the car she was in. That we were both in. I watched each breath she took become more labored as we waited for medical assistance, until she expelled her last and slipped away.
And now to hear him bring it all up again made me … angry. Impotent with rage. I did not want to be sucked into this vortex of recrimination. I had listened to it for years and I was ready to throw off those shackles.
Struggling for calm, I repeated the soothing words, anything to get him off the subject.
“You’re safe now, Papa.”
“They will find me in the end.”
I tried another tack. “Not if I find them first.”
“And you will do what? Hit them with your hockey stick?”
“It is a good weapon, no? Perhaps I will use a skate blade or the laces of my boot. A hockey puck can be marvelously effective.”
That made him laugh, a deep sound from his belly. Planning the destruction of his enemies always cheered him.
After a few moments, he touched his head. “I am so clumsy. I used to be better—remember when I put you on the ice and taught you how to skate?”
“How could I forget? You were my best teacher.” He had made me a man.
But there were times when I wished he did not put himself in danger. That he was not as moral and upright in his opposition to the machine. Because his goodness kept me on a leash, unable to truly go for what I wanted. I never worried for myself, but there were ways to target the people I cared about. It was why I had pushed Lauren away. One too many strange phone calls, the same dark sedan following me, the sensation of being watched at all times.
But now I had free rein. The enemy was scattered, the war won, though a different kind of battle loomed. I could go after what I needed. Only I was starting to realize that holding Lauren too tightly was not the way to do it.
I needed to loosen the laces and let this thing breathe.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lauren
* * *
“Hi, Riley, it’s Lauren again. I know it’s a little late, but I’d love to discuss your very bright future and all the ways I can support it.”
I clicked off the call. Was she hoping I’d give up so she didn’t have to tell me no? I’d rather hear it directly from her than be left guessing as to her true intentions.
I opened the reports Summer had compiled, marveling at her ability to piece it all together. Promoting her to agent had been a good call. That perky blonde thing she had going on was a weapon in itself. No one would see her coming. I couldn’t risk losing her and her valuable skill set to anyone else, but if things didn’t pick up soon …
“You should have better security here.”
