“I was so curious about him even though Mom told me he was a bad man. A part of me needed to see for myself. I went in secret because she would have been furious if she knew I’d gone. I figured out that he owned some kind of auto repair shop and went there one day when I’d told Mom I was at the movies with friends. It was almost closing time, so there weren’t many people around, but a garage bay was still open, so I went in to take a peek. I wasn’t certain if I was going to tell him who I was. I figured I’d check him out first, then go from there. I never got that far, though.”
Her solemn words take hold of my stomach and squeeze it beneath an angry fist.
“There was a commotion—angry voices coming closer—so I hid behind a car in the far bay. The next thing I knew, the garage door was closing, and a man was pleading for his life. He said he had kids and a wife. His voice was …” She shakes her head as if trying to rid her mind of the memory. “I’ve never heard someone plead with such fear in their voice. He kept saying,please, Biba, no. It felt surreal, like it couldn’t be real. Like I had to be listening to some sort of television broadcast or something. I peered through the window of the car just as the man holding a gun to his head—my father—laughed at the man’s fear. I’ll never forget that evil laugh so long as I live.
“The gunshot exploded in the air around us. So incredibly loud. I dropped to the floor, hands covering my ears, and when I looked to the side, the man was on the ground. Wide dead eyes stared at me from across the garage, blood pooling all around him from the hole in his forehead. I couldn’t move. I was so terrified that I stayed curled in a ball with those eyes staring atme until I was sure the others had left. I snuck out after that and spent the next day painting this.”
I can hardly breathe as I watch her scrape away the paint with a flat tool. Underneath the lilies are two images, one from a distance and the other up close—the wide open eyes of a dead man staring eerily out from the canvas. It’s superimposed over the main scene, which is Biba standing near a white Mustang holding a man at gunpoint. The details are exceptional.
“At first,” Danika continues, “I painted hoping to get it out of my head, but then it evolved into a testament. A way to memorialize what I witnessed. The acrylic lilies I painted on top were a tribute to the man and a way to keep the painting around without anyone suspecting. Over the years, I got so used to them that I hardly thought about the scene underneath. Not actively, anyway. Then on the day we first met…” She brings her eyes to mine, and they’re full of torment. I want to tell her no—that I’ve heard enough, and she doesn’t have to say another word, but that would be wrong. She’s sharing this with me for a reason, and I need to listen.
“Yes, I remember outside the police station.”
She nods. “Biba had just told me his plans to force me into a marriage, so I went straight to the station to report him. I actually wasn’t thinking about the murder. I was too terrified about becoming the property of some killer, but while I sat waiting to talk to someone, I saw a wall of photos displayed to honor officers taken in the line of duty, and I recognized the man who’d been killed. I’ll never forget those eyes.” A shiver racks her entire body. “I felt like it was a sign. A warning to get out of there, so I ran.”
“Right into me,” I finish for her.
She nods and sets the painting back in the shower. “Keeping that secret has been unbearable. I’ve called myself every name inthe book, most often a coward because I never stood up for what I witnessed.”
“You were a kid, Danika. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I know, but I’m not now.” She shakes her head. “That’s not why I’m telling you all this. I’m telling you because I want you to know I did have options. I could have gone to the FBI and asked for witness protection. I would have missed my family, but I could have done it. I considered it even after coming here. I’ve looked at that painting over and over, and you know what I’ve come to realize?”
I wait for her answer with bated breath, knowing whatever she says next will change everything. One way or another.
“I realized that I wanted you more than I wanted to hide, and I think that scares me more than anything because I know who you’re going up against. Yes, I’m terrified for you, but that’s because I’m terrified he’ll take you from me, and it would be all my fault.”
Her breathing shudders on a suffocated sob that shifts the earth’s rotation until it’s aligned on an entirely new axis. That must be what happened because that’s the only way to explain how I could suddenly see everything so very differently.
DiAngelo was right. I’ve been so fucking blind.
“I love you so much, little thief.” I say the words that have been dancing in my mind for days because she needs to know now more than ever. “And I will always come back to you.” I seal my promise with a kiss, lifting her into my arms, her legs wrapping eagerly around my middle.
“We need to get out of here before we pass out from the fumes,” I say, nipping at her bottom lip.
She nods, and I walk us toward the primary bedroom.
“I’m sorry, Dani. I’m so fucking sorry that I’ve been so self-centered.”
“It’s not self-centered.”
I grimace. “That’s sweet of you, but it’s not true. My first inclination any time I sense the slightest degree of hesitancy or concern about me is to assume it’s a rejection. That I’m being seen as less than and unwanted. Between my issues and being the youngest in the family, I’ve always been treated like a child. Earlier today, my brother told me that Dad made him promise to keep me safe.”
I sit on our bed with Dani straddling my lap and continue to explain why I’m upset. It’s the least I can do when she’s been so open with me. I owe her that much.
“My brain frequently sees things in black and white. In the past, I was kept on the sidelines because I was too young. If Renzo continued to keep me on the bench, I assumed it must be for the same reasons—he thought I was incapable of protecting myself. I never considered that he could have other reasons like a promise to a dying man. Renzo was closer to Dad than any of us since he was next in line for leadership. He took the loss hard, and I imagine a promise like that would weigh on him.”
“Definitely, but also, he could just be scared of losing you,” she adds gently. “If losing your dad was hard on him, it could make him extra scared of losing anyone else. We’re your family, Tommy. We worry about you because we care.”
I grin against her lips, my tongue teasing along the crease. “That’s right. We are family.” This time, I plunder her mouth, staking my claim. She welcomes me with hungry abandon. I’m hard as steel in an instant, rocking myself up against her center, making us both moan with pleasure.
“Actually, that reminds me,” she tries to say, but I cut her off with another kiss. “Tommy,” she chides, pulling free. “There’s something I need to tell you.” She smiles, but it’s riddled with uncertainty. “I’m worried you’ll get upset, but I’ve told myself you would have said something if you had a problem with it.”
She’s rambling nervously. I want to tell her that nothing in this world she could tell me would make me love her any less.
“Dani, baby. Spit it out,” I say instead.
She gives a tiny cringe, then whispers, “I’m not on birth control.”
