'Til Death: Volume Two
Page 6“For what? You’re pathetic. Waste of money. Give it back.”
He eyes bug and he gasps. “No.”
“Give. It. Back.”
“I heard you were a ruthless bastard but this is low, even for you,” he wheezes.
I stare up at the sky, take a breath, and then lower my hardened eyes back to his. “Give. Me. The. Mother. Fuckin’. Money.”
“I don’t have it. It’s gone. You’ve paid me. I’ve done the job. I never promised to get answers.”
“For the money I fuckin’ paid, you should have. Now, give me the fuckin’ cash or I’ll end you.”
His eyes bug. “You’re seriously fucked up.”
I pull out my gun, pressing it to his forehead. “You have no fuckin’ idea.”
~*~*~*~
KATIA
NOW
My father arrives the next afternoon. By then, Mom isn’t really picking up. He hires a car and when he pulls up at our apartment and gets out, I see his expression drop. He hasn’t changed a bit; he’s still tall, dark and handsome. I step out the front door and his eyes soften when he sees me. But as usual, I see the pity in them.
“Katia . . .”
“Hi,” I whisper, walking over.
He reaches out, stroking a thumb down my cheek. “I didn’t know.”
“Does she know I’m coming?”
I nod.
“Come in.”
I lead him inside and he halts suddenly. I know why. He’s laid his eyes on Penny, who is perched on the couch beside Mom. She’s holding onto Mom’s blanket, shoving the end into her mouth and drooling all over it.
“Holy shit,” he breathes.
“Dad,” I say, softly. “Meet Penny. My daughter.”
His eyes dart over her, then flick to me. “Katia . . .”
“Please, not now. Please?”
He nods and turns to my Mom. “Hi Sandra.”
“Hello Pierre.”
“How are you feeling?”
She shrugs, but I see it pains her. So does he. They share a look that lasts so long I feel as if I’m invading a personal moment between the two of them.
“I’ve already called the doctor in,” he finally says. “He’ll arrive in the next hour or so.”
Thank God.
He turns to me. “I’ve gotten you a plane ticket . . . I didn’t know about, ah, Penny. I’ll add her on. It leaves in three hours.”
He reaches out, stroking my cheek. “Dusty will be waiting at the airport for you. I told him you were coming.”
“And Ford?”
“He’s aware, he’ll be fine.”
I nod. “I should pack.”
I hurry down the hall, giving them time together. I know Mom is slightly uncomfortable with my father being here, but she also knows she doesn’t have a choice. I hate that I have to go, but it’s time I end this properly with Marcus. I don’t know why he hasn’t divorced me, but I can’t keep hanging on.
I need to let this bitterness go.
I need to move on.
I’m sure he’s suffered, too. After all, the moment I left he would have lost everything. I’m sure he wants to move on with his life as much as I want to move on with mine. He probably hates me for leaving as much as I hate him. I can’t be married to him for the rest of my life, I can’t hide from him for the rest of my life, the only way for me and my little family to be truly happy is to go back and face my demons, and end them.
It’s time to face this.
~*~*~*~
“Sweetheart.”
I look up from my packing to see Mom. She’s in the doorway, sitting in her chair staring at me sadly. I try to smile, but it comes out wobbly. I don’t want to leave her; the very idea has my heart clenching. I know I have to, though. I don’t have a choice. She needs me to do this as much as I do.
We can’t live here forever.
“Hey,” I whisper.
She pushes off the doorframe and wheels over, then with a struggle she brings herself up to sit on the bed beside me. She reaches out, taking my hand and holding it firmly in hers.
“Am I?” I whisper. “It seems so much easier to just stay here.”
“That’s not fair, for you or Penny.”
“Or you.”
Her face scrunches in pain. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me forever.”
“Why not, Mom?” I croak. “You’ve taken care of me.”
A tear runs down her cheek. “When this is done, we’ll start again. If it’s back there, or somewhere else, we’ll do it. Pierre has said he’ll pay for my care so you can—”
“Mom, no,” I whisper. “No.”
“It’s okay. Let him help us.”
“No, it’s not okay. It’s me and you; we’ve been in this together from the start. I’m not going to just hand you over . . .”
“You won’t be,” she assures me. “He’ll just be helping us so we can enjoy life instead of struggling through it.”
“I’ll divorce Marcus, sort this out, and we’ll figure something out, okay? Just . . . don’t make any decisions until I come back.”
She nods. “Of course not.”
“I’m going to miss you. I hate that I have to leave you because of him.”