Page 36 of Tormented Diamonds
Pressing my fingertips together, I fold them over my nose and tell myself this isn’t going where I think it is. But one look at the shame on his face, and I know it is. “What did you do?” When he clenches his jaw, I slam my fist on the table, sending silverware rattling. “Tell me.”
“They’re criminals. I assumed they were running drugs,” he says, the sharp downward pull at the corners of his mouth betraying his flat tone. “Jack investigated a couple of reports involving undocumented shipments, butthey were always outgoing, so I buried the files. I told myself it wasn’t affecting my citizens, so it wasn’t a big deal.”
“But it wasn’t drugs.”
He lowers his head, his chin swaying side to side. “No. After Carol was murdered, I was determined to nail those sons of bitches to their own damn crosses.” When he looks up, his eyes are glassy and red. “So, after being summoned to the docks, I followed Dagger to the cargo berth. I hid behind some pallets while he and some men loaded five large crates onto a freighter.”
My heart sinks. I don’t want to ask, but I have to know. “What was in them?”
“I never saw,” he says, his voice breaking. “But I heard them.”
“Them?”
“I’ll never forget their screams. They were pounding on the inside of those crates, begging and pleading for help.”
I slam my palms on the table, my chair skidding backward as I hit my feet. “They were shippinghumans?”
The restaurant goes dead silent.
My father winces. “Considering who you’re married to, I’d suggest lowering your voice.”
I glance around to find every eye on me. Well, almost every eye. The grumpy guy in the corner seems bored with anything but his plate. Swallowing hard, I sink weakly back into my chair. “I can’t imagine how scared they must have…” I stop, the thought of being locked inside a dark, damp crate leading me down a dangerous path.
“Those screams…” he says solemnly, his guilt wrapping me in chains and forcing me down it, anyway. “I’ll never be free of them. They’re like a permanent stain…”
“On your soul,” I finish softly. He doesn’t answer, and I don’t want him to. I have no desire to explain the surface level meaning of thatphrase, much less the deeper one. “Tell me you didn’t walk away.”
His posture straightens. “Of course not. The moment I knew they were shipping women in those things, I pulled my gun.” He pushes his plate away, the weight of the confession pulling the corners of his eyes and mouth down. “I didn’t know how many crates of women I’d let disappear out of my city, but I was prepared to go down fighting for that one.”
“Well, you’re very much alive, so that means those women aren’t. What happened?” My voice sounds monotone and robotic. I don’t like how easily I turn cold and indifferent when I’m trying to distance myself from the ugliness that constantly borders my life.
“Dagger happened,” he clips, hatred seeping out from between his clenched teeth. “He stared at my gun and laughed. I thought it was because I was finally standing up for what was right.” He shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “I should’ve known better. He was about to take my moment of strength and twist it into my greatest weakness.”
“Yeah, I know this part of the story.” I slump into my chair. “It’s when he threatened to kill me, too.”
He stills. “No, he didn’t.”
“What do you mean, ‘he didn’t?’” I ask, desperately grappling for a truth that keeps slipping away. “That’s what you said—that you stopped fighting back and did what they wanted for over twenty years to protect me.”
“I did, but Dagger never threatened to kill you, Becca. He threatened to sell you.”
Chapter Eleven
BECCA
Asilence falls over the restaurant, so still a feather could fall without drifting one way or another. I stare at my father, every part of me on pause while my thoughts struggle to catch up. “I-I don’t understand. Sell me, to who?”
“I never wanted you to find out like this.” He drags his hand down his face, taking the corners of his mouth with it. “Christ, I never wanted you to find out at all.”
A black wave of panic rises in my stomach. “Answer me.”
“I don’t know. I was too afraid to find out.”
“So, the man who killed your wife threatens to sell your daughter into a trafficking ring and you just shrug your shoulders and keep your head down? You’re the chief of police. You had resources to?—”
“To what, Becca?” he snaps. “To send after him so he could make good on his threat and turn my little girl into some sick billionaire’s sex slave? I’d just buried my wife. I couldn’t takethe risk.”
“But what about everyone else’s little girls? Didn’t they matter?”
