Page 9 of Heartless Sinner

“I know.” Dad sighs wearily. “But I don’t know what else to do, and I don’t have any other choices. You know things are bad. They’ve been bad since my accident. I was barely managing before, but at least I had a steady income.”

“So, what are you going to do? You’re seriously going to steal this chip? You with your bad leg and bad back?” He can’t even move now.

“I have to try. I don’t want to be gunned down in my own home.”

The horrific image forces the bile in my stomach to rise into my throat and burn. “Dad… this is a nightmare.”

“I should never have listened to Johnny. I just never thought my own son would do this to me.” His hands tremble. “I’ve run out of options, Scarlett. We have until Monday. That’s four days. If I don’t do this job, there is no other solution.”

My heart squeezes and grief pulls me under as I stare at my father and take in the distress and defeat on his face.

Dad can’t do that job. That could get him killed, too.

My mind races, trying to find answers, but what I come up with is worse than ever.

“Who hired Johnny for the job?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. That part is irrelevant, and maybe it’s best I don’t know.

“It’s an unknown name for security purposes.”

Of course, it is. “Who does the chip belong to?”

“Micah Delarosa. An underboss in the Italian mafia.”

My eyes widen. This all just keeps getting worse and worse by the minute. “Italian mafia, Dad?”

“It’s an in-and-out job. I’ve been assured that no one will know I was ever there. I’ll leave for New York tomorrow morning, and I’ll be back here in two days. Once I have the chip, we get paid.”

“I’ll do it.” The words tumble out of my mouth, confirming I’ve gone crazy. Dad’s face twists with fury. “Scarlett, no. Absolutely not.”

I clench my fists. “Dad, you seriously think you can do it? Be in and out without anyone knowing you were ever there?”

“I will do it. I—” He tries to stand by pushing against the wall and instantly falls back to the ground, shouting in pain as he grabs his bad leg.

“Dad!” I back at his side, holding his arm.

“Fuck, that bastard hurt my bad leg.”

“How bad is it?”

“It feels… broken.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, a silent conversation playing through the space between us.

“I’ll go to New York. It’s an in-and-out job. Right?” I try to sound like it’ll be as easy as walking through the park.

“Scarlett.” Dad touches my face. “No.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Scarlett...”

“I’m going, Dad. You knowyoucan’t.”

He doesn’t argue. The decision is made.

I’m going.

So much for positive thinking and getting my life back on track.

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