Inevitable - Kristen Granata Page 0,51
the doorknob starts to turn, I push my way inside.
“Easy, tiger.” Clemmons laughs as he closes the door behind me.
I’m about to charge him like a linebacker when the shine of the knife in his hand catches my eye.
“Have a seat.” He gestures to the couch where Gwennie sits on Jen’s lap, tears streaming down both of their faces. Tommy’s beside them on the next cushion with a knife of his own.
I rush over to them, kneeling in front of the couch. “Are you guys okay?”
Gwennie jumps into my arms, her tiny body shaking like a leaf.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, looking into Jen’s eyes. “I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Of course everything’s going to be okay.” My head jerks up as my father steps into the room. “See, Gwyneth? I told you Uncle Graham would come.”
I place Gwennie back on my sister’s lap and rise so I can tower over my father.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” he asks. “You should’ve brought her to our little party. I’d love to meet her.”
My fists clench, itching to slam into his face. “I’m here. What do you want?”
“I want you to finish the job you started.” He slips his hands into his pockets and pops a nonchalant shoulder. “Simple.”
“There is no job, Dad! I searched his entire office. There was nothing inside the safe, nothing in his files. The man’s clean.”
“He’s not clean! You have to keep looking. You can find something. I know you can.”
“It’s over, Dad,” Jen says. “You have to let this go.”
“It’s over when I say it’s over!” Dad steps closer to me, gritting his ugly yellowed teeth. “You think you can disobey me? You think you can walk away? You’re nothing without me.”
“I think it’s you who’s nothing without me. Otherwise,” I say, spreading my arms wide, “this whole production wouldn’t be happening.”
“You think you’re so much better than me. But look at yourself. How can you betray the woman you care for, sneaking behind her back while you play footsie under the table?”
Fuck. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw your photo in the paper from the night of the charity event. Page Six. You two make a lovely couple.” His voice drops, low and menacing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in love with her.”
The acid in my throat rises and I try to swallow past it. My chest heaves, my stomach contracts. “Leave her out of this.”
A smug smile spreads across his face. “Ah, so you are in love. The question is: Does she love you? She won’t be satisfied with your lifestyle. She’s just like her mother! A selfish, stuck-up, rich bit—”
I wrap my fingers around his jugular and drive him backward until his shoulder blades hit the wall. “Maybe I’ll just kill you. Bury you along with your fucked-up vendetta.”
“Uncle Graham!” Gwennie screams.
Something sharps digs into the back of my neck. “Let him go,” Clemmons growls.
I squeeze my father’s throat even tighter, knowing how easy it would be to end it all, right here and now. But there are still two men with knives, and I have to protect my sister.
I have to be smart.
I loosen my grip and my father slumps forward, clutching his throat and gasping for air.
“Try that again and you’ll regret it,” Clemmons says.
I laugh. “If you think a knife is going to stop me, you haven’t done your homework.”
“It might not stop you, but it’ll stop them.” His eyes flick to Jen and Gwennie, then back to mine. “You’re not that fast.”
“You wanna test that theory?”
“Enough!” Dad shouts.
I swing my gaze to my father. I take several steps toward him and cross my arms over my chest. “I found the letters, you know.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “What letters?”
“Eric’s suicide letters. They were tucked away in Montalbano’s safe.”
“So? What’s that got to do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you, and you know it.”
“The boy had issues.”
“Issues that you exploited!”
Dad scoffs. “There’s no proof of that.”
My jaw goes slack. “Are you fucking kidding me? A young man killed himself because of how scared and overwhelmed he felt, knowing your people were coming after him to collect their debt—a debt that you created!”
His eyes roll. “Look. Eric had a gambling problem. That wasn’t my fault. His father has plenty of money. He could’ve bailed his son out. He could’ve paid off the debt without batting an eye. If anyone is to blame for Eric’s death, I’d say it’s Anthony Montalbano.”
Though his logic makes sense,