The Woman in the Trunk - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,62

wrong all these years. He wasn't a decent man. He was the lowest kind."

"And what kind is that?"

"The kind who betrays his own family."

Christ. I could have written this speech for her.

Family over everything.

That was the code we lived and died by.

"How did he betray his own family?"

"Last night, you had a guest come in while we were all having our... meeting," she fumbled on that word, choosing it carefully.

"Yes. An associate of mine."

"Well, I'm sure you have no idea about this. I think people can hide their sins pretty well when they know powerful, moral men would be angry if they uncovered them."

"Are you talking about Paulie?" my father asked, the name making Giana cringe for a second before she shook it off. "What are his sins, then?"

"He rapes children," she told him, gaze going up to hold my father's. "He raped me when I was fifteen."

"There are a lot of men in the world who have a taste for young women," my father said, shrugging, suggesting that it could have been another man.

But I was reading more into that. Into the almost defensive way he said it.

Shit.

Fuck.

Goddamn it.

He knew.

He knew what Paulie had been up to.

He looked the other way.

Or he outright allowed it.

Either way, shit just went from bad to worse, and I had no way to get that information across to Giana.

So she went on.

"That's true, unfortunately. But I remembered something very specific about this man. A port wine birthmark on his left hand. I even drew a picture of it after the rape. I had told my father about it. And last night, he shook the hand with that very birthmark on it. He knew, Mr. Costa. He knew that Paulie raped me as a little girl, that one of his friends had raped my mother. Worse yet, I think my father let him do it, gave him a key to our apartment to do it."

"That's quite the little story you've created in your head. I'm sure if I invited Paulie over here to talk about it with us, he would say he had nothing to do with that event."

This is the part where things were going to get even more touchy.

Because he couldn't call Paulie.

This was not going to be good.

As if sensing the train of my thoughts, Giana's gaze finally met mine, her brows pinching at whatever she found on my face.

Shock.

Fear.

Resignation.

Those were all things I was feeling right then.

She could have seen any—or all—of them.

"That's not going to be possible," I told my father, making him half-turn to look at me.

"What's not possible?"

"Having Paulie over."

"Why not?" my father demanded, words a snapping sound, already sensing I was about to say something he didn't want to hear.

"Because he's in a couple garbage bags being transported to a safe location."

"A couple of garbage bags?" my father repeated, not great with subtlety.

"I always believed our family was against pedophilia. I didn't want him disgracing our name. I handled it."

"Who the fuck gave you the order to do that?" my father shouted, loud enough for Giana to shock back.

I couldn't blame her.

My father's anger was of the explosive sort.

If you weren't prepared for it, it could be scary.

I, however, had been on the receiving end of his rage since I was a kid.

I wasn't worried about his words, his tone.

What mattered right now were his actions.

"He was our best collector. He brought in more than all of the others combined. Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"He touched children."

"Who the fuck cares what he did if he got the job done?" he roared back, making my stomach twist.

It was one thing to believe your father was scum. It was a complete other to learn that there wasn't a word to describe how disgusting he was. That he could look the other way to children being abused.

This was the man I'd pledged loyalty to.

I didn't see the gun coming out.

I should have expected it, but I was reeling from the revelation.

I sure as fuck felt it when the bullet ripped through my shoulder, though.

Giana's screech pierced my ears as the pain gripped my system, as Chris burst into the room, and the men upstairs came running across the floor, down the stairs, and in as well.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" my father raged, waving the gun, making his men jerk around, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a bullet meant for me. "You think you're the boss of this family?" he