Page 111 of Daring You

“Then what are you here for?”

“To try to make some sense out of this.” I sniff hard, then sift through my tote. “Here are all the documents pertaining to your old identity. I’ve deleted all traces from the firm’s database. I’m going to give them to you, so you can destroy them, or keep them, basically do whatever you want with them. It’s your choice.”

“You’ll get fired for this.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’re not scared? Disappointed?”

“I’m terrified,” I laugh dully. “And incredibly disappointed in myself for letting it get this far, for allowing Mike to get his hands on it, for the information even getting to Altin Yang…there are a lot of things I regret. But this, being in this dank-ass bar with you, throwing these folders in front of your face and telling you to fuck ‘em, this is the proudest I’ve ever been.”

Ever so slowly, Ben smiles.

I mirror a tentative one back.

He clears his throat, breaking the moment, then lays a hand on the folders on my lap. “What does this mean for me?”

“I can’t do anything about Yang’s knowledge. But he’s built on integrity, and the only thing he wants is for you to be questioned in a closed-door deposition. As for Mike, I’m working on a plan for him, but he’s nothing if not an opportunistic asshole, so if this information doesn’t gain him anything, he likely won’t use it.”

“Astor, sorry to be so blunt, but I fucked his fiancée. Dude wants to have me murdered.”

“Ex-fiancée, and he’s not the type to whisper your name to known, violent drug gangs. Especially since in our line of work, we know it’s often the messenger that’s dismembered and made an ‘unavailable’ witness.”

Ben taps a finger on the files, and I feel them against my thigh.

“And you?” he asks. “What would you advise me to do?”

“As a human being, or as your lawyer?”

“Both,” he says.

I take a deep breath. “I would say, you have two choices. You can nip this in the bud and take it to the press yourself. Tell them who you really are and that you remember nothing. Make it so public that the mafia—or anyone else—would be very stupid to come after you.”

“People have orchestrated car accidents for less.”

I concede his point, but say, “In this case, the benefits might outweigh the risks. You were a four-year-old boy who witnessed a crime a little over twenty years ago. If I had you on the stand, I could easily discredit you.”

Ben furrows his brow as if insulted, but more likely he’s attempting to keep the Earth on its axis as he wobbles.

“The fact that you’re recalling something decades old,” I continue, “And that you were a toddler with an unreliable memory to begin with, makes you a weak witness on both sides. You’ve lived peacefully and privately ever since, giving no indication that you’ve remembered anything to do with your parents’ murders.”

“You’ve missed one key fact.”

I arch a brow.

“I remember.”

Someone smacks a pool cue against the balls, sending a crack both inside and outside my head. “What?”

“I’m…” Ben massages his brows. “I’m starting to remember. I think it’s all this talk about it. It’s forcing me to look back. But I remember a name that was said that night. Lopez.”

I lay a hand on his denim-clad thigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure it’s not your mind playing tricks on you? That name has been thrown around a lot in the news—”

“I’m not watching the news.”

“—and it’s extremely common.”

“Astor, listen to me.” He grips my wrist on his thigh with a firm, urgent tightness. “I”m remembering. I know what they did to my parents. I—I know…”

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