Ch. 26..30: Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad Chapter 26-30

Chapter 26

Kent storms into the dining room, where the table is set for four. He sits down hard in his chair at the head of the table, waving at the place settings on either side of him. "Remove these," he says to the waitstaff, biting off the words in his frustration. "Have Daniel's and Fay's plates sent up to Fay's room, they'll take their supper there."

The waitstaff give each other worried looks but silently do as they're told. The chef comes out next, looking around the room.

"Sir?" He asks, his French accent heavy in the word. "Will you be dining alone?"

"Apparently," Kent says, angry that Fiona isn't here either. "Please bring it out."

The chef nods, impassive, and heads back into the kitchen. A few moments later he appears again with Kent's first course - salmon tartare with a small side salad and a freshly-sliced French baguette. Kent ignores the fish and reaches directly for the bread, slathering it with butter as he sits back in his chair and thinks.

Thinks, inevitably, about her.

God damnit, he almost couldn't take looking at her tonight, sitting there in her bed, crying as if her heart would break. He had tried - tried to break the mood, to cajole her out of it, to scare her out of it by pounding on the wall - But she had just kept crying -

He grits his teeth between bites of bread, angry with himself for not being able to control himself. For wanting, even now, to dash up those stairs and so something - anything - to make her stop.

But she was Daniel's problem now, a right with Daniel had just asserted upstairs. Kicking him out and keeping Fay all to himself.

Kent has tried, these past few weeks. Tried to distract himself, to busy himself with his work and his plans, tried to ignore her when she walks by, the light lily scent of her shampoo drifting through the air -

The wide-eyed expressions of her face, when she's shocked, happy, sad, angry -

God, she's at her best when she's angry, with that fire in her eyes, that courage she drags up from somewhere deep in her soul - he loves to prod her, to push her, to raise that fire in her -

The way it felt, those few times when he lost his control, when he caught her spying on him in the basement, for instance, and chased her up the stairs, pinned her against the hall of her room, saw the passion in her, then - the defiance -

The way it felt when she pounded her little fists against his chest - god, he had wanted to turn her around right there, press her up against the wall, press the length of himself up against her ass as he slipped his hand beneath her shirt, taught her a lesson about what it meant to defy him -

Kent squeezes a slice of the bread within his fist, crushing it, ruining it. Then he drops it to the table and stares at it.

God damnit, that girl. She will be the undoing of him. She made him just lose it - lose absolute control of himself, the one thing he never did. And she had absolutely no idea.

He had to get rid of her, Kent decided, looking blankly across the room. He'd send them away - marry them quick, send them back to the old country to his family there, where they'd be safe -

But the idea of it, of them building a life together, of her smiling at his son while she bore his children -

Kent grits his teeth and pounds his fist against the table once. God damnit.

He stares down at his plate as his mind races.

What could he do. What, really, was the other option. Could he, somehow, claim her for his own - convince Daniel to give her up, to move on to someone else -

Kent scoffs at himself, then, putting his hand over his face, disgusted. What was he thinking - trying to find a way to take his son's fiancé from him? It was unthinkable, despicable. Daniel would never forgive him, and Alden -

God damnit, Kent had never been in such a tight spot. Had never wanted something so badly, and yet had it so completely forbidden to him - in terms of morality, of honor, of political alliance, of family. Absolutely forbidden.

Yet as every day passed, Kent felt his control over himself slipping, bit by bit. If he loses control of himself, he knows that he will lose everything. And yet...

It doesn't help, sometimes, when she looks at him that way. When she half-lids her eyes and pulls her lower lip into her mouth. Like she's holding back too.

Kent slams his fist against the table again, forcing his mind away from the thought.

What the fuck was he going to do.

At that moment, the door to the dining room swings open and Fiona breezes in. "Hey baby," she says with a big smile, settling into her seat across from him. "What, you couldn't wait for me?"

She looks up at him, then, and her smile falters. She can see, clearly, that he's in a foul mood and she has to tread very, very carefully if she wants to get out of this in one piece.

"Wait for you?" Kent says, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why should I wait for you, when you are late?"

Fiona glances at the grandfather clock on the far wall and notes that, yes - shit - she was five minutes late. Still, she tries to keep it light as the chef comes through the door again, putting her own entrée and bread in front of her.

"I didn't know we were on such formal terms in this house," she says casually, trying a small smile. "I'm sorry, I won't be late again."

His eyes narrow further, and Fiona realizes she miscalculated. Shit. The right choice would have been all apology - no joke. She screws her mouth shut, looking down at her plate and taking a piece of bread out of its little basket, fiddling with it between her long- nailed fingers.

"Do you think," Kent asks slowly, dangerously, "that I should wait for you? That as the man of this house, I should be at your beck and call?"

Slowly, Fiona shakes her head. "No," she says. "You're right, I should have been on time."

"Damn right you should have been," Kent says. He knows, deep down, that he's being unfair to her. He doesn't care, really, if she's been late. But he's so worked up - feels so powerless - and Fiona is there to take it out on.

"After all," he continues, pushing his plate away from him. "You are not my wife," he says, cruel. "You are here, eating my food, wearing the clothes I buy you, spending my money, in my house, just so you can give me pleasure. When I desire it."

Fiona blinks at him then. Never, ever, has he stated their relationship in such stark terms. He never called her his girlfriend - she knew it wasn't really like that - but really? He had basically just called her his whore.

Kent sneers at her, watching the realization of his insult break out onto her face.

"Is that..." Fiona starts, unable to stop herself. "Is that really how you see me?" Slowly, she puts down her piece of bread.

"Yes," he says, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the feeling of power that comes when he sees her balk. "And right now, I want you to go upstairs. To my chamber. I want you to wait for me there."

"Kent -" she says, going pale.

"You are not my wife," Kent says, banging his hand on the table. "You are here at my leisure. And if you decide that you no longer wish to be, no longer wish to receive my generosity and my gifts," he says, "you are free to leave at any time." Her chin begins to shake a little, in fear and frustration. What had she done wrong? Still, she knows her place in this relationship. In reality, she always has. Kent lets her get away with a lot - treats her, spoils her, rarely contradicts her. But really, deep down? She's here for one thing.

Slowly, she stands and giving him a proud look she can't help - walks from the room, heading up the stairs. To the third floor, the attic. The room that he keeps there. The room she absolutely hates.

Kent calls to the chef for his next course. When it's delivered, he quickly slices the steak into pieces, biting it down without tasting it. When he's finished, he tosses his napkin onto the table and follows Fiona up the stairs.

 

Chapter 27

I'm wolfing my breakfast down as fast as I can the next day, already wearing my riding boots and the tight fawn-colored jodhpurs I found not-so-mysteriously in my room this morning. I look towards the galley, but Kent isn't cooking today. I drink my orange juice in one big gulp and Daniel laughs at me. "Seriously," he says, his plate still full. "You're not going to get my dad to appear any faster if you choke on your food."

Where is he? I can't wait to get to the stable - to see Heathcliff again - to get started -

I smile at him and he grins back, tilting his head to the side. "It's so good to see you happy, Fay," he says. Then his expression falls a little. "I'm just sorry I didn't think of it first - I had no idea you wanted a horse - I could have easily -" "It's okay, Daniel," I say, putting a hand on his and giving him another bright smile. "I didn't know it either. Or, well, I've always wanted one - but I had no idea it was a real possibility."

He laughs lightly at me. "Anything money can buy, Fay," he says warmly. "If you can dream it, we'll get it for you."

"Hmmm," I say, winking at him. "You do know that I have a very active imagination. You might regret that, Danny-boy."

He laughs at me again as I stand up, stretching. Kent comes through the door then, pausing a moment to look at me. I drop my hands and give him a big smile as he comes over. "Hi!" I say, excited.

He looks at me again, a little indulgent, and then tosses a piece of paper onto the breakfast table. "Sorry to have to burst your bubble, sweetheart," he says, a little rueful. "But the stables have to wait until tomorrow." My face falls immediately with disappointment. "Wha - what?!"

He shrugs, indicating the paper. I glance at it, realizing it's an invitation. Daniel picks it up.

"Looks like your dad feels bad, Fay," he says, raising his eyebrow. "The invitation explicitly says that he and Tristin are having a party tonight to welcome you as a member of their family."

Daniel looks up at me, holding it out so I can see. "Looks like he's trying to make amends. Public ones."

I take the invitation from him, studying it, sighing. The party is tonight, five o'clock, but with all I'll have to do to get ready...

"Damnit," I mutter, my shoulders slumping, looking between them. "I guess I have to go."

"We have to go," Kent says, pointing at the envelope which is explicitly addressed to the three of us.

"What about Fiona?" I ask, picking up the envelope as well.

Kent shrugs, impassive. "She can come if she likes. It won't matter."

I nod, hoping she'll come. I always feel braver when she's around to make me laugh.

"What," Daniel asks, looking at his father. I turn my attention to him as well, wondering what Daniel is seeing. Kent's face is grave.

"I don't know," Kent says, shaking his head and rubbing his chin. "I don't like the looks of this."

"Why?" I ask, frowning.

"My guys looked into it," he says, gesturing towards the invitation. "Alden is using this opportunity to introduce your entire extended family - cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone."

I go pale at this, a little scared. If just meeting my step-mom went so poorly...

"And in exchange," Kent continues, "he's invited all of our people as well. It was different, when I had Alden come here - there was just a small guest list, only those who needed to be here -"

No one you introduced me to, I think, twisting my mouth a little, but okay.

"But tonight," Kent says, not noticing the face I'm making, "he wants all of his people, and all of my people, in a room together. And not on either of our turf - in an outside location."

I glance at the invitation again and see, indeed, that he's invited us all to meet at a local country club.

Kent continues to shake his head and Daniel joins him. "I just don't like it," Kent says pensively.

Daniel nods but I look between them again. "Wait," I say, "catch me up. What's so bad about that?"

Kent says nothing, staring at me - challenging me, I think, to figure it out myself. But Daniel shakes his head and explains. "Fay," he says, "when big families get together like this, sometimes other gangs see it as an...opportunity. Two birds with one stone, as it were." "Or," Kent says, picking up the thread. "Because Alden has greater numbers than us, he could see it as an...opportunity. To pressure us into deals we're not happy making. It's...non-preferred."

"Oh," I say, raising my eyebrows. "Maybe we should...not go."

Kent shakes his head again. "No, he's got us cornered there. He's already sent out the invitations to all of his people, all of mine. It's short notice, but...if I keep you from it, it will look like I'm keeping you from your family." Daniel and I nod, understanding.

"Well," I say, hesitating, "I could just go...alone..."

Kent freezes then, looking at me with humor and disbelief in his eyes. Then, he bursts out laughing.

"Not a chance in hell, Fay," he says, walking by me and giving me a little swat on my jodhpur-clad b**t. "Go get ready!" he calls. "We're leaving at 4:30, sharp! I want you two looking good!"

Both Daniel and I stare at him as he walks away.

"Did he..." I say, shocked.

"Just..." Daniel continues, his voice low and unbelieving.

I turn to look him, my eyes as wide as saucers. "Did your dad just smack my a*s?"

A few hours later, Fiona is putting the finishing touches on my hair. I groan a little as she pins the last piece into place, finishing it off with some hairspray. My entire scalp hurts, each strand of hair having been combed and tugged and curled and pinned and sprayed.

The hairdo is a triumph, of course. It's so elaborately curled and swept up delicately off my shoulders that I look like I could be getting married.

"You're gorg," she says, leaning down so that I can see both of our faces in the mirror. She laughs, then, giving me a kiss on the cheek and then whipping her lipstick off my skin with her thumb. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

I stand up and let Fiona help me into the little black cocktail dress she's chosen for the occasion, the fabric shimmering subtly in the low light of my room. It skims off my shoulders and cuts high on my thighs - definitely racier than anything she's put me in before. "Are you sure this isn't a little...risqué?" I ask, considering myself in the mirror. "For like, a meeting the family sort of thing?"

"When it was your dad, it was one thing to look like a pretty pretty princess," Fiona says confidently, zipping me up. "But trust me, I know women like those you're meeting tonight. If you come in looking like a little girl, they'll eat you alive."

We both look at me in the mirror and I'm surprised by what I see. If last time I was the Mafia princess, tonight I am dressed as the Femme Fatale. The woman who can wreck it all if she wants, and walk away laughing.

"You look as if you could breathe fire," Fiona says approvingly, passion in her words.

"Do you really think so?" I ask, turning to look at her.

"Baby Fay," she says, shaking her head at me with a little pity in her eyes. "Our innocent little baby. You really have no idea what you've got going on, do you?"

I frown at her, not understanding.

"You could have them all in the palm of your hand," she whispers to me, holding out her own in front of my face to demonstrate. "With just one look. You could bring them all to their knees."

I snap my head back to the mirror, wondering if it's true. Thinking, suddenly - perversely, I know - of Kent on his knees before me. And what I'd make him do if I had him there.

 

Chapter 28

Fiona gives me a tart little smack on the b**t then, breaking my reverie and laughing as she hurries over to the jewelry box waiting on my vanity. I give her a weird look and cover my a*s with my hands. "What is with people today," I murmur. She laughs again as she comes over to me, standing behind me so that she can hook the diamond solitaire around my neck on its slim silver chain.

"You got the ring?" she asks, smacking her gum.

"Oh, yeah," I murmur, walking swiftly over to my bedside drawer and pulling it open. I reach towards the back, fishing it out and pushing it swiftly onto my left hand.

When I look at Fiona, she's crossing her arms and shaking her head at me.

"A million-dollar diamond," she says, "and you shove it in your bedside drawer?"

"Um," I say, biting my lip in response. I hadn't even thought about it. I look around, wondering where else I should have put it -

"Nevermind," she says, laughing at me more.

"Fiona," I say, taking in her vintage Juicy velour sweatsuit. "Won't you please come? I'll feel so much better with you there."

"Ah, baby Fay," she says, coming to take my arm and give me a smile. "You'll be fine. I've got a headache, is all - I'll be more comfortable here."

I frown at her, knowing that something's up. But, she knows more about this world than I do. If she doesn't want to go, I'm not going to push her. "Okay," I say, sighing as I headed for the door.

"Wait wait!" she calls, unzipping a garment bag and revealing a gorgeous mink stole.

"Oh my god," I say, walking back towards it. "It's beautiful -"

"Yeah," she says, admiring it. "Vintage. You lucky girl."

Smiling she goes to wrap it around my shoulders.

"Wait," I say, not wanting to touch it. "Is it...like real? Were those alive?"

"What are you," she scolds, "some kind of tree hugger?"

"It's wrong," I protest, staring at it. "I feel so bad, thinking about those little animals -"

"Baby," she says, taking my face in her hands. "It's vintage. These minks died over sixty years ago. No new minks died so you could look fabulous."

I hesitate, my eyes taking it in. It is so beautiful.

"Come on," she says, wrapping it around me before I can say anything, tucking my hands into the little pockets at the bottom which help me keep it around my shoulders. "It would be an insult to these little minks, to leave them in the closet for another sixty years. Take them out! Let the world admire them!"

Laughing, I head out of the room and down the stairs, brushing my face against the wrap, enjoying the feel of the soft fur against my cheek.

I stop though, halfway down, when I see Kent at the bottom standing with his arms crossed, his feet apart. Staring at me.

Shy, suddenly, I hunch my shoulders up towards my ears, clutching the mink close against my chest, pressing my thighs and knees together. I'm abruptly very aware of the shortness of my skirt. I don't break eye contact though. Instead, I bite my bottom lip hoping - ridiculously that I look okay.

I swear I hear him growl as his brow lowers, his eyes locked on mine.

"Fay!" Daniel calls, joining his father at the bottom of the stairs. "Wow, you look stunning." He gives me a big smile and I start to move again, focusing on him as I come to his side. "Thanks," I say, giving him a little punch on his shoulder. "You look pretty cute yourself."

He gives me a charming, bashful smile, and I'm reminded again just how good-looking my fiancé is. Both of our faces turn to Kent, though, as he snorts at us, shaking his head.

"Come on," he says, nodding towards the door. "The cars are waiting."

With that, we head out of the house. On our way to meet my entire family.

I whistle a little as we walk into the ballroom at the country club, impressed. This place has a grand, old-fashioned kind of charm, with freshly buffed fine oak floors, brass chandeliers, and sweeping views of the golf greens all along the southern wall.

As soon as we enter, a waiter comes up to offer us champagne. Kent doesn't make eye contact with him, merely saying "whiskey, neat," and surveying the guests. However, Daniel is more polite, nodding and smiling as he takes two glasses from the tray, passing one

to me.

We only get a few steps into the room before we are bombarded with attention.

"Is this her?" A plump woman says, hurrying over and reaching out a hand to take mine. "Is this our darling lost Fay?"

"Um," I say, smiling at her, pleased at the warm reception but already a little overwhelmed. "Hello -"

"Yes," Kent says, stepping forward, not letting the woman pull me away. "This is Fay. We're so pleased to be here, Rosemary."

The woman pauses, giving him a warm smile. "Well of course, we're always glad to see you, Kent," she says, her eyes darting between us.

"Rosemary is your aunt," Kent tells me, accepting the glass of whiskey that the waiter is quick to bring back. He takes a sip, looking to me, apparently allowing me to continue the conversation.

I open my mouth, wondering what to say, but Rosemary picks it up for me. "We remember you from when you were a baby, of course," she says, gushing, waving several people over from a nearby table.

I blink in surprise - but of course, they would have known me. Of course I had biological aunts, and uncles, and cousins - people who loved me as a child. I just had really never thought of it before.

It seems like I meet hundreds of people that night - the large Italian family I never knew that I had. Everyone wants to say hello, pressing my hand, telling memories they had of me, welcoming me.

People from Daniel's side are here too - fewer, of course, but several cousins with the same dark hair and green eyes. I'm pleased to meet them all, but I admit that I'm surprised that Kent stays at my side the entire time - sometimes interceding with the answer to a question before I can provide it, sometimes guiding me towards or away from a certain person with a little tap from his hand on my lower back.

He doesn't interfere, quite - but he is a constant presence during the evening.

As we work our way across the floor, I see that we're heading - ever so subtly - towards my father and his wife at the front of the room. The children are there - Romulus stands on a chair to wave at me before his mother tugs him down.

"Um," I say, hesitating a little. "I think I'd like to...visit the bathroom," I say, "before I take that on."

"Of course," Kent says, turning with me, putting a hand on my back to show me the way.

"Dad," Daniel says, his face frustrated as he steps in front of us. "I'll take her," he says, shaking his head. "You've been kind of hovering all night -"

"Nonsense," Kent says, frowning at him and nudging me forward. As a trio, we head towards the alcove with the little restroom sign. Daniel pushes the point further.

"Seriously, dad," he murmurs, "you can go, I'll stay by her side - I can handle this -"

"No, you can't Daniel," his father snaps, taking an aggressive step towards him, cutting me off in my path. "You have no idea what the politics are in this room - who it might be dangerous for her to talk to - who is out for blood, who could be a possible friend." Daniel's face twists, angry. "And whose fault is that, dad?" he asks, his voice hurt and stubborn. "You never involve me in these conversations, you never -"

"It's your fault, Daniel," Kent snarls, Daniel falling silent. "It's your fault. Before tonight you've never been interested in the family business - always more interested in college, and books, and whatever the hell it is you do all day. And tonight, because she's here -"he throws out a hand towards me, "what, suddenly you know what you're doing in this world? Suddenly you're a boss, a Don, in the business?"

Daniel frowns at his father, crossing his arms across his chest, clearly hurt. "I can handle myself," he says, still angry but a little cowed. He knows, deep down, that his father has a point.

Kent opens his mouth to speak again but I push past him, eager to get away. "Um, I'm going to go to the bathroom," I say, looking over my shoulder at them. "While you two...sort this out." They ignore me, turning to continue the argument even in my absence. When I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Kent is still standing there, but Daniel is not.

"Where did he go?" I ask, looking around for him.

"He went to cool off," Kent murmurs, his arms crossed. I can tell he's still pissed, but he's putting on a controlled front for everyone in the room.

Just then, a waiter at the front of the room rings a gong. I jump and blink a little at the noise, surprised. What the hell does that mean?

Apparently, everyone else knows, because they start to filter away towards tables. The waiter scurries over to us, bowing a little. "If you would please, sir, miss," he says, gesturing towards the head table. "Just this way."

Kent nods and we follow him to a long rectangular table with just three seats left. I watch as the waiter pulls out the furthest chair, gesturing towards it with a smile and looking directly at me.

I glance back at Kent, who gives me a smirk. I narrow my eyes at him a little, knowing that he's not going to be of any help.

With that, I sigh, thanking the waiter and sinking into the chair seated directly next to Tristin, my new wicked stepmother.

 

Chapter 29

Tristin turns her eyes to me as soon as I am seated, the baby in her lap looking up at me curiously. "Hello, Fay," she says, her face cold. But hey, at least she's talking to me. "Hi," I say, giving her as bright a smile as I can manage. Romulus peaks around her to give me a happy wave, which I return.

My father, on Romulus' other side, turns to me as well. "We wanted to apologize, Fay, as a family. For the events at our house yesterday."

"Oh, please," I say, waving a hand to dismiss it. "Don't worry about it. I understand that it's...awkward. That I'm sort of a new addition, and that I screwed up some of your plans. I'm...sorry about that, by the way." I look into Tristin's face as I say it. "Not a new addition, Fay," my father says, looking at me steadily. "A love one returned to us after a long parting."

"Yes," Tristin says, her voice low and rehearsed. "You are a member of this family." Her eyes flick to Kent and Daniel then, and I wonder why.

The rest of the dinner proceeds a little blandly. The food is good, the chitchat a little dull. I get a lot of family history, then, with Alden showing me pictures of my grandparents and telling me about their journey to America from Italy.

I look at the old photos curiously, trying to see pieces of my features in their faces. I've never really considered, before, that I'm actually Italian. I never thought much about my ethnicity, but with my red hair and pale skin, Italian had never popped into my mind. I glance quickly at Kent and Daniel - with their dark skin, thick black hair, and roman noses, they look Italian.

"Thank you so much for showing me these," I say to Alden, handing the pictures back to him. "I'm learning so much about myself these days."

"And you have so much more to learn," he says, giving me a warm smile, which I return.

The party goes quite late, with everyone drinking and chatting. At some point, a DJ comes out and begins playing the oldies that this crowd apparently favors - lots of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. It's not a bad time, overall - even Daniel is laughing and chatting around.

Only Kent seems to be having a poor time - or, at least, not a good one. He's very stern, always glancing around the room, looking over everyone who comes to say hello. I purse my lips, considering him as he looks critically over an old woman who introduced herself as my great aunt. Does he ever have a good time?

Kent feels me watching him and turns his attention to me, raising his eyebrow.

I shrug at him and shimmy my shoulders, encouraging him, without words, to try to loosen up and have a good time. He smirks at me and then looks away, continuing his surveillance.

Too serious, I think, getting up to get another drink. Kent stands to go with me, but I put out a hand to stop him.

"Really," I say. "I'm just going to the bar for a glass of wine." I indicate the alcove in the wall where the bar is stationed, only a few feet away. "I'll be back in a moment."

He hesitates and then settles back in his chair. "I'll be right here," he says. I nod and briskly step away.

A younger set of people are standing by the bar chatting. They raise their glasses to me as I sidle up.

"Welcome to the family, cousin," a tall guy with closely-cut black hair and broad shoulders says to me. "We've missed you."

"Really?" I ask, nodding to the bartender who hands me a glass of wine. "Um, are we really cousins?"

"Sure," he says, laughing. "I'm Michael, this is Chris," he says, indicating the slightly smaller version of himself next to him, "and our sister Amy."

"Oh," I say, raising my brows. "Wow, it's really nice to meet you."

"Not quite cousins," Amy says, leaning in familiarly to talk to me. Her words are just a little bit slurred - not sloppy, but I can tell she's had a couple of drinks. "We're second cousins! Your dad is our mom's cousin, which means," she screws up her face in thought, thinking, "we have great-grandparents in common."

"Wow," I say, taking a sip from my glass. "Um, my family - I mean, the family I was adopted into - we didn't pay a lot of attention to that sort of thing. So to find out I have great-grandparents and second cousins all in one day..." I raise my eyebrows in emphasis and they laugh, nodding.

"Yeah," Michael says. "It must be a lot, to go from nothing into a big Italian family like this."

"We remember you, though!" Amy says with a big smile. "Because you were our little redheaded Baby Fay -"

I blink, suddenly, at the way she says that. Baby Fay - only one other person calls me that -

"We used to play with you at family parties," she continues, "like I remember one summer, our other sister Fiona -"

"Hey," Michael says sharply then, nudging her with his elbow.

"Oops," Amy says, lifting her fingers to her mouth. She rushes to continue, then, trying to move the conversation on. "Yeah, anyway, I remember you when you were so little on the slip-n-slide -"

"Wait," I say, putting out a hand to stop her. "Fiona? Is that -"

Suddenly, though, Kent is by my side. "Fay?" He asks, looking sternly at my new cousins. "Did you have some trouble getting your drink?"

Michael, Chris, and Amy stare at Kent, maybe a little star-struck. "Kent," I say, gesturing towards them. "These are my cousins -"

"Come on," he says, ignoring them and taking me by the arm. I look back at them and grimace a little, shrugging as I let him pull me away. They all give me a little wave. As I walk away I see Michael say something sharp to Amy, who cringes. "What's the big deal," I murmur to Kent when we're out of earshot. "They were nice -"

"I don't know them," Kent says, bringing me back to the table. "And if I don't know them, they're a liability." He glances back at them and shakes his head. "We can't take risks like that, Fay."

I sigh at him. "Kent, if I'm going to come to these things to meet my family, you have to let me, you know. Meet my family."

He just glares at me and turns away to survey the room again.

People are starting to filter out, I notice - it's definitely a smaller crowd than it was before. Even when I glance at our table, I notice that my father and stepmother are gone, which seems a little odd.

Daniel sees me looking for them. "A problem with the baby," he says, shrugging. "They all left a minute ago."

Kent stiffens next to me, though, and I turn my eyes to him. He's looking very closely at the people left in the room now, who have, indeed, grown a little quiet. There are very few children left, mostly men in suits standing quietly at pairs. Looking, largely, at us.

Kent reaches out a hand then and just as he grips my arm -

BAM -

The sound resonates through me and I can't help my little yell of surprise - god damnit, it sounds like a firework has gone off in the room -

BAM BAM BAM -

The sounds echo throughout the space and suddenly Kent has thrown himself over me, blocking me with his body, pushing me towards the far wall -

Daniel is next to us as an instant, crouching down, pulling me away with him -

I hear a few more pops and bangs and then the room starts to fill with a grey fog -

"Was that," I gasp, trying to see around Kent, who blocks me, "was that gunfire -"

Kent he ignores me, turning to Daniel. "Smoke grenades!" he yells, looking around to our left and our right, trying to see the source, "you know what to do -"

Daniel turns to me, taking my hand and looking me seriously in the face. "We're under attack, Fay!" he yells. "We've got to RUN!"

 

Chapter 30

of it -

Daniel grabs me by the hand, pulling me to the south side of the room where a terrace balcony runs. Kent is close behind us, providing cover. There's a door there at the corner of the room and I'm filled with relief when I see it - but suddenly, a man jumps in front A man all in black, wearing a ski mask -

I stop short and start to pull Daniel back, but my act is disrupted when I hear a BANG at my ear and scream again, clutching the side of my face.

The man in front of us falls and Daniel bolts forward, dragging me with him, I turn slightly to look behind at Kent and see a gun in his hand - What the how the hell did he -

"Go, Fay!" he yells at me, clearly frustrated at my delay.

I nod and turn my attention back to Daniel, who reaches the door and pushes it open, pushing me against the wall.

Kent darts out, quickly scanning - then I hear more noise, see his finger pulse again as he shoots -

There are screams, thumps - I hardly have any time to process anything as Kent yells "clear!" and Daniel pulls me through the door. We run ahead of Kent then as he follows closely behind, watching our backs.

All of a sudden, I realize that there are bodies that we're stepping over - there's blood on the ground - one of the men on the ground moans, reaching for his gun and I skitter away. Before he can reach it, though, we're beyond him. Panic is rocketing through me, so much that I can't think, can only act - can only follow Daniel wherever he's leading me -

We run to the end of the terrace and wait for Kent to pass us. He goes down the stairs first, expertly sweeping the area, firing efficiently at the threats he sees. Daniel looks anxiously behind us, but no one comes through the door - "Clear!" Kent shouts up and we start down the stairs. "F*****g hurry, Daniel!" he shouts, and I almost stumble in my haste.

When we get to the bottom there is a moment of quiet where we huddle together with Kent.

"Listen to me," Kent says, his eyes darting between us. "I don't know who did it, but this is a setup, targeted at us. They want one of us - maybe all of us -" his eyes shift to me, "Maybe just Fay. So we have got to get out of here, fast." Daniel and I nod and I feel my panic subside just a very little bit under Kent's expert command. I trust him to know what to do.

His eyes sweep over me then, lighting on my stilettos. "Get those fucking things off your feet," he says and I hurry to pull them off, standing barefoot on the cement at the bottom of the stairs. Then, he looks around once more.

"We're going to make a run for it," he says, gesturing a hand out towards the golf course spreading out before us. "Across the greens, into the darkness. Head for the trees, and then keep going. When I say go, you two run." He looks us in the eyes then. "Whatever you do. Don't. Look. Back."

I start to tremble, a little, and he steps close to me, taking my face sternly between his fingers. "Do not fall apart on me now, Fay," he growls. "Cry at home, if you must. Never on the battlefield."

I nod quickly, working to do as he says - pull myself together - and then he crouches down, ready to cover us as we go. "One," he says, and Daniel and I crouch forward.

"Two," we get ready, and then there's a long pause...I almost look back, when suddenly -

"THREE!" Daniel launches into an all-out sprint, my hand in his. I work hard to keep up, but he's faster, more athletic than me -

Still, I push myself, willing my legs to whirl, to push, to run as fast as I can.

I hear the sound of gunshots ringing out behind us, of footsteps -

At some point, something tugs on the back of my dress but then it's gone -

When we reach the treeline I look back, just a moment, and see that there's a body behind me - what tried to grab me -

Kent is about halfway behind us, running too, squeezing off live fire as he goes at dark forms chasing him from the club -

Suddenly, though, he stumbles, grabbing his arm -

"Daniel!" I shout, slowing, trying to turn back -

"Come on, Fay!" Daniel yells, gripping my hand harder and yanking me forward.

"But your dad -"

"He told us to go! Don't turn back!"

I hesitate, but the decision is made for me as Daniel's hand pulls me forward, locked around mine. I follow him, my breath coming fast and sharp in my chest, an ache rising in my muscles as I push, push.

As we go, it gets quieter. We run through a small set of woods, across the soft green grass of some golfing greens - even through and over a tiny creek that stands in our way as we head towards another set of trees - this one larger, a copse of pine. When we're under their boughs, I fall to my knees.

"Please," I pant, putting my hands down on the ground as well, ignoring the spikes of old dry needles that press into my palms and legs. "Please, Daniel -" I say, sucking air into my lungs "I just need - just one minute -"

"Okay," he says, crouching down next to me, looking around warily. "I think...I think we may be okay for now - we may have lost them -"

I nod, agreeing, but not really knowing whether or not he's right. I concentrate on the ground, on getting air back into my lungs, the sweet feel of it bringing clarity to my thoughts, to my panicked emotions.

"What was that," I ask, looking up at Daniel with worry and horror on my face. He's much calmer than me, both physically and mentally. "How are you so okay - have you done this before?!"

He shrugs. "Once or twice," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It doesn't get...better. But you stop being so shocked, after your first time."

I laugh ruefully, then, realizing that Daniel means that this won't be the last time this happens to him, or to me. This is part of the life.

I open my mouth to ask more when a dark figure comes into sight. Both Daniel and I scramble back-

"It's fine," the figure says, coming forward and stretching out a hand. My fear subsides when I recognize Kent's voice.

"Dad," Daniel says, rushing over to him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Kent growls, but I can see that he's clutching his left arm with his right hand. Daniel bends down to look at it but Kent flinches away. "Seriously, it's not deep," he murmurs. "The phone is in my pocket," he says next, nodding down at his suitcoat. "Get it out, text Carlos. Drop a pin to let him know our location and tell him to meet us."

Daniel nods, taking the phone out of his father's pocket and following his instructions. As he does, Kent turns his eyes to me. "Are you all right, Fay? You're not hurt?"

I shake my head no, but then realize that I'm trembling all over. He watches me closely. "Um," I say, trying and failing to put a smile on my face. "I'm really okay? I don't know why..." I look down to survey my shaking limbs, "I don't know why I'm shaking?" "You're in shock," Kent murmurs, coming closer to me and going down on one knee so that we're face to face. He looks me in the eye. "I need you to take a deep breath, Fay," he says. I open my mouth to protest - I don't know why - but he interrupts. "No," he says sharply. "No arguments. Just look at me."

I do. I lock eyes with him, taking in his serious face, his steely control. The gun still clenched in his left hand.

God damnit, I start to shake harder.

"With me, Fay," he says, holding my gaze, speaking softly. "One," he says, taking a deep breath in. I do the same, pulling as much air into my lungs as I can. When he exhales, I exhale.

Then, again. "Two," he says, taking another deep breath. I do the same.

We continue like that for a while, until count fifteen, when Daniel interrupts.

"Okay," he says. "Carlos is here -" he points into the darkness beyond the grove of trees. "About five hundred feet that way, there's a road. Carlos is on it. He says it's clear."

"Let's go then," Kent says, standing up. I stand up with him. He breaks my gaze for a moment to hold out the gun to Daniel, who hesitates and takes it. Then, with his free hand - slick with blood, I notice - he takes mine.

Kent nods to me. I nod back. And then the three of us quietly walk through the night, Daniel running point, Kent walking quietly next to me.

I look down at our joined hands, then, as we head towards the car that will take us home to safety and wonder, passingly, why it is Kent who holding my hand right now. And not Daniel.