Page 32 of Tormented Diamonds
Gianni’s stare hardens. “No, Reese, that makes me feel sorry foryou.”
“Me?” My father laughs, but it doesn’t drip the same superiority as before. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Your hatred blinds you. You only see me as a lowlife criminal and a killer without a soul.” My heart skips a beat as he points to me. “But she doesn’t. She never did. Your daughter accepted me, even when I gave her every reason not to. She fought for me as Johnny Malone, and then, when she found out the truth of who I was—when all my secrets dragged her into their darkness—she fucking fought harder. That’s strength, Chief. So, don’t sit there insinuating Becca is so weak that she had the ring on her finger put there unwillingly. Your daughter chose this life, and she chose me. If you can’t see that, then it’syouwho needs to take a hard look in the mirror.”
I’m speechless, not only by Gianni’spassionate words of support, but by the stunned look on my father’s face. Whatever knife Gianni threw hit his intended target, sinking in hard and deep. I want to show my appreciation, but I know my husband too well for that. The only thing he despises more than vulnerability is someone calling attention to it.
Which is why all I offer is a soft smile.
My father turns to me with a stricken look on his face. “Is this true?”
I glance at Gianni, a silent question in my eyes.
Can I tell him?
His answer comes with a slight dip of his chin.
Exhaling nervously, I straighten my spine. “Yes. I love Gianni, and I married him willingly…” His face morphs into a mix of confusion and suspended belief as I twist my fingers in my lap. “However…”
His cop eyes sharpen. “However?”
“However, there were extenuating circumstances that forced things to, uh, speed up.”
“What sort of circumstances?”
Knowing he’s going to lose his shit makes this ten times harder. Our relationship may be dysfunctional, but he still deserves more than half-assed answers. “I kind of saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”
His shoulders slump. “Oh, Becca…”
“It’s my fault,” I say, quickly intercepting any blame he might try shifting beside me. “Gianni tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. There are people here who…” I swallow hard, attempting to word this in a way that lets him understand without making him an accessory after the fact. “...don’t appreciate outsiders intruding on their ‘meetings.’ So they ensure said outsiders never make the same mistake again. The only way Gianni could prevent them from eliminating me from all ‘meetings’ was to ensure I had a permanent seat atthe table.”
I ignore the stab of guilt from glossing over the part where Gianni saved his life, as well. Maybe it’s a mistake to keep it from him, but the last thing I want to do is become the reason my father has to look over his shoulder, too.
The weathered lines in his face deepen. “This is all my fault.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Why?Why?” he repeats, his face reddening again. “You’re paying the consequences for my sins, Becca. Don’t you see? If I’d only quit the force and moved you and your mother far away from Providence when Marcello first started making threats, none of this would’ve happened. Carol would still be alive, you wouldn’t be married to a goddamn mob boss, and my family wouldn’t have suffered for my weakness.”
“That’s not true.” We both turn to find Gianni standing beside the couch, staring out the window with his hands clenched by his side. “It would’ve simply delayed it.”
My father stiffens. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Marcello’s offers weren’t multiple choice. He would’ve hunted you relentlessly until there was nowhere else to run.” Gianni glances over his shoulder, his expression sullen. “The only thing that would’ve been different is all three of you would be dead.”
My father curses under his breath and drags his hand over his thinning hair. “So, how did you gain so much influence with these ‘people?’ From what I heard, you stabbed them in their backs before turning yours.”
Gianni remains surprisingly calm. “It’s amazing what sins people will forgive when you present them with a bigger one.”
“I assume you’re referring to your father’s covert Providence activities.”
He nods. “I’ve been tasked with dismantling them … which brings me to an important stone wall I’ve run into. Since you’re here, maybe you can help tear it down.”
“What would I know that’d be of use to someone like you?”
“Do you know the name of the man Marcello had running Providence?”
“Dagger,” my father quips so matter-of-factly, my chest squeezes.
