good to me, and I was about to throw him under the bus. He told me I was one of the few people in this world he could trust…and I was about to stab him in the back.
But also save my father.
I was downstairs when Cato walked in the door.
This time, I kept it unlocked so he didn’t have to pick the mechanism in the door.
“That was quicker than usual.” He was in black jeans and a black shirt. It was way too hot for a black suit or a blazer, so his casual attire was appropriate. If the heat didn’t get you, the humidity would.
“Would you prefer I lock it?”
“I like to time myself. A challenge.” He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks…” I avoided the sincerity in his eyes because it felt wrong to enjoy it. I grabbed the bouquet of flowers I’d gathered from my garden and carried them outside.
Cato followed behind me, his arm circling my waist. “My driver can take us.”
“Ugh, I would rather drive, if that’s okay. I don’t want to visit my mother with strangers in the front seat.”
Cato didn’t put up an argument as he led me to the old car in the dirt driveway. It was almost eight years old and small. Even in the front seat, Cato’s legs would have a hard time fitting. He got into the passenger seat without complaint.
I started the car. “Your fifty men aren’t going to follow us, right?”
He looked out the window. “They always accompany me.”
“I know, but I’m not sure if that’s appropriate. We’re going to a cemetery…” Hearing myself talk just made me hate myself more. Was it as obvious to him as it was to me?
Cato didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Alright.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and made the call. “Wait for me here. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.” He returned the phone to his pocket and stared at my house. “Done.”
I didn’t expect that to be so easy. I expected a further argument, at least a few questions.
But Cato trusted me implicitly.
After a short drive, we were about two miles from the cemetery. The radio was off, and we sat in comfortable silence while my flowers lay in the back seat. Both of my hands gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, and the air didn’t seem cool enough to combat the sweat that formed on the back of my neck.
Cato was quiet, looking out the window without making conversation. His knees were apart, and his hands rested on his thighs. My car was far too small for a man his size, but he never insulted my piece-of-shit ride.
My pulse was so powerful in my neck, I could actually hear it.
I wondered if he could hear it too.
The closer I got to the gates, the worse I felt. My gut told me this was wrong—and my heart was in agreement. I wanted to save my father, but I didn’t want someone else to take his place.
Especially Cato.
Cato had been good to me, even when he behaved like an asshole. He respected me, treated me well, and he had a good heart. Sometimes his true selflessness was lost in his work, but I knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. He took care of his mother when other men would be too greedy to share their wealth. He would take a bullet for his brother. And sometimes I wondered if he would take a bullet for me.
I knew he didn’t love me. But he cared about me.
And I cared about him.
I’m sorry, Father. I slowed the car down until it came to a stop in the middle of the street. There were fields around us and homes in the distance. The sky was too beautiful for a tragedy to happen today. Both of my hands were still on the wheel as the self-loathing hit me. I hated myself for turning my back on my father, but it was his fault he was there. I’d told him to walk away from the business—but he didn’t listen.
“What is it?” His voice was particularly cold, a direct contrast to the summer heat.
I turned the wheel and turned the car around. “Cato, there’s something I need to tell you.”
From the left came a squadron of black cars, along with a tank in the front. An actual tank. They turned the corner in the road, hidden from