Page 122 of A Vow So Soulless

When Curse puts the phone on speaker, I can hear Caruso whistle.

“Oh, old Charlie boy. Rich British son of a bitch. Pretty nasty loan shark. He’s got a private resort on one of the smaller islands. Only accessible by boat.”

“Tell me you’ve got a fucking boat for us,” I say. Cristo Santo. At this point I’d fucking swim to her if I have to.

“I’ve got something better,” Caruso replies. “I’ve got a helicopter.”

Chapter 42

Deirdre

I sit in the boat staring up at my dad on the dock for so long that the two men are forced to unstrap me and physically pull me out of the seat. They try to lift me out of the boat, but my skirt gets snagged on something. One of the men pulls out a knife, and I cringe away from the blade as he saws through the silk, turning the flawless full-length gown into a garment that ends choppily above my knees. I’m lifted much more easily from the boat this time, held by the waist and then deposited on my ass on the dock, facing towards the boat. I stare down at the beautiful beaded silk, the dress I wore for Elio ruined in the bottom of the boat, and feel a small part of myself die.

“Here, lass, up we go now,” my dad says, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me into a standing position.

“Don’t touch me!” I surprise all three of them, and myself, with the force of my scream. I rip my arm out of his grip and get shakily to my feet on my own. My muscles feel looser than they should. My whole system slowed by whatever they injected into me.

My dad looks good. And that is like a slap in the fucking face. He’s sun-kissed, healthy, wearing shorts and a fine linen shirt that rustles in the warm breeze. His hair is a little longer than when I saw him last, and it looks like he’s even lost some weight.

He’s been living one good life out here without me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my throat scraped raw. “Why am I here? Where is Elio?”

“Elio?” My dad looks surprised I’ve mentioned the man that I’ve been living with since he abandoned me. “Back in Toronto, I’d imagine. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Why the hell am I here?” I don’t even know if Elio is alright. It looked like he was hurt badly in that blast. My hands crawl anxiously up to my head, clenching at my hair until it pulls hard at the scalp. “You have to take me back!”

“Back?” My dad gawks at me. “No, Dee. I always meant to get you back eventually. My business partner has finally helped me to do just that.”

“Get me back? You’re the one who left me there!” I point my finger wildly out over the water, swinging it like it’s the arm of a compass that can find Toronto and Elio by some kind of magnetic force. “You signed me away to La Cosa Nostra when I was eighteen fucking years old! You ran away like a coward on my birthday when that Camorra soldier was coming at me with a gun! And now you’re trying to tell me that it was all part of the plan? That you were going to come back for me eventually? After my life was already completely destroyed?”

My arm drops, heavy and limp to my side. “You want to know who was there when you weren’t? Elio. That very first night you ran, he took a bullet to protect me. While you were getting on a plane for this fucking paradise, Elio was getting stitched up from a wound that could have killed him if he hadn’t been just a little more lucky than he is.”

“See?” my dad says, nearly scoffs, defensiveness clear in his voice and face. “I knew he would be good to you. Take care of you while I was gone. That’s why I felt good about making that deal with him.”

“That is bullshit and you know it!” I snap. How have I never truly seen this side of my father before? This wriggly, gaslighting person who lies like it’s nothing? “Elio Titone is a monster and in many ways he was a monster to me. But he’s my monster now. He’s my husband. And you have to send me back to him!”

I stop shouting and try to get control of my breathing.

Maybe if I can just find the right angle, the right negotiation tactic, I can swing things around my way.

“I won’t tell him it was you,” I say quickly, already hating the promise I’m making because I know my husband is going to try to get the information out of me by whatever means necessary. “I won’t tell him what happened. I’ll make something up. Just get me on a plane. Send me home!”

The open, placating look my father has had on his face for most of this time suddenly cracks, then crumbles completely away, revealing something hard and cold.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?!”

“Because Mr. Brigham’s taken an interest in you.”

My head snaps to the side, because it’s one of the other men who’s spoken now.

“Ah. There it is,” I say grimly. “What happened to, ‘it was always the plan to get you back’?” I ask my dad. “I’m still a pawn to you. Only problem is I’ve got a knight behind me now.”

Not a bright, chivalrous knight. A dark knight. One clad in black leather instead of white armour.

“He is going to find me,” I promise my father, promise all of them. “If you don’t send me back, he will come for me.”

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