me, but why should it? I’ve lived most of my life with my head stuck in the sand, only lifting it out when I wanted something. “So that’s who Ray works for?”
“With,” he says pointedly. “Not for.”
“Is there a difference?” I turn, wondering at how his eyes ice over.
“Yes. Groups like his don’t just let rich guys buy membership. Not with money. They buy in with blood.”
A chill whirls up my spine. I fold my arms, still not quite sure what he’s hinting at.
Does it even matter whether or not Ray was a full-fledged member of this criminal group?
“Cornaro doesn’t partner up with anybody on even terms,” Flint says, every word breathing more tension into the air. “He fucking uses people. Always to his benefit. From what we’ve learned, it seems like there was already a loose association between the Cornaro Outfit and your old man. King Heron went through a rough patch ten or more years back. Took tons of losses, the company almost went tits up. Then Stanley Gerard found himself a new investor. Ray just took it further, deepened the bonds, thought he’d climbed in bed with somebody who’d help him shit gold since it worked so well for your dad.”
I shake my head. “I don’t get it. What does King Heron have that they’d possibly want?”
“Ships. An easy conduit to move illicit cargo. They’ve got a hand in everything, Val. Trafficking weapons, drugs, people all across the South Pacific. If it’s illegal, it’s a Cornaro job.”
Disgust fills me. “It isn’t just ships. More like...no morals.”
“Huh?”
“No morals,” I repeat. “You’re right, it started with my father. He was willing to do anything to save his company. I remember this time when I was younger, he was so stressed. There were months where he’d fly off the handle or shut himself up in his office downstairs, whispering to people on the phone long after I should’ve been asleep. Sometimes, I’d hear him through the vents, even if I didn’t understand what he was saying, or why he had all these new phones. He would’ve filed bankruptcy if he hadn’t made a deal with the devil.”
“Burners, babe. He stocked up on cheap, disposable phones to stay in contact with Cornaro assets without leaving a trace,” he says.
I sigh. “Gerards aren’t good people, Flint. And you know what they say about birds of a feather...”
He’s looking at me oddly, almost like he’s confused.
I’m definitely not.
I’m finally seeing the blinding truth. It’s sickening.
Flint takes a step back, still eyeing me, something tugging at his lips.
“Do I repulse you?” I ask.
“Repulse me?” Something flashes in his eyes. Anger. Shock, maybe. “Val, what the fuck?”
“I should,” I say, “because I repulse myself.”
I’m breaking down, too numb to feel anything except my lungs hitching, the tears in my eyes burning so hot.
I can’t be here.
He reaches out to grab me, but I tear myself away, running for the house.
14
Prized Bird (Flint)
Val can’t go anywhere, but still I follow, stunned at why the hell she thinks she repulses me.
Is she really that blind? The incessant ache in my blood for this woman couldn’t be further from pure fucking revulsion.
This has to be the amnesia shit, an acid torture eating away at her from the inside.
There’s no good reason she ought to be repulsed by who she is.
She had no say over her old man reaching into a cookie jar with teeth, and then her fuckwit brother digging deeper, until he got bit.
I catch up with her on the lanai. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Is there more?”
She spins around, throwing her arms in the air. I grab her by the wrists, pull her in, and lock my arms tight so she stops flailing.
“More? Jesus, I hope not!” Tears stream down her face. “I hate the girl I was. I wish I hadn’t remembered anything, Flint. W-wish that stupid amnesia was permanent.”
“Bull. You can’t mean that,” I growl, pushing my forehead to hers. “Stop it, baby. Breathe for me. You’re only thinking about the bad shit right now. You’ve got a lot to cry over, but it’s no reason to hate yourself. Never.”
“But I do mean it...” She covers her face with both hands, untangling from me. “There’s nothing redeemable. It’s not just those men, or Ray, it’s...it’s everything. I’ve lived a crappy life. I’ve been a brat. It’s pathetic!”
Nope. She’s still not talking sense.
That’s a mighty big problem.
I move like lightning, grasping her wrists again, pulling her hands away from her face. I have to