Page 304 of Mangled Memory
“It is, Ayla.”
I had already left the room when it dawned on me that he hadn’t called me Mrs. Barone. He’d called me Ayla.
I’ll take that. It may be a little victory, but I need all theWs in the win column I can get.
Especially now.
That’s because I’m sitting at my father’s bedside while police stand watch outside his door. I don’t care if he wants me here or not. I have questions I need to have answered, and I have the ultimate noose to hold around his neck.
“Dad?”
He looks like absolute dogshit. He stirs and opens his eyes. They go wide in fear before he schools his features. He’s a terrible bluffer. I must get it from him. But I’m channeling all I’ve got for this ruse to work.
“I have questions about yesterday and everything that went down.”
“Not now, Ayla. Can’t you see that I’m not okay?”
“Now, Dad. This isn’t up for debate. I need to know why those men came after me.”
His face reddens and I swear he could pop a blood vessel in his forehead if they weren’t already broken from the fists used on him. “I don’t know.”
I move the push button for his pain meds out of his reach. “Try again. That was the second time. Am I right? Or was it the third?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The night Christian was shot.”
“Yeah, that was them. As if I gave a shit if something happened to that man.”
That wasn’t what I was asking, but it’s one more answer.
“And they came back for me that night too? Disabled our security system and tried to get me.”
His gaze comes to mine. “Your brother should’ve known it was a vulnerability. He always did half-ass work.”
Breathe. Don’t react. “The men, Dad? Why did they come back for me?”
“They thought if they kidnapped you, I’d pay up.”
“Thought or knew?”
He scoffs before moaning and reaching to rub his chest. He must think better of it because he lets his hand drop and looks back to the pain med pump.
His eyes gauge me, and he knows I know. No need in beating that dead horse.
“Are there any more out there I should be worried about?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Oh, you care. You should answer.”
“And why is that?”
“Because if you don’t answer every question I have, Mom’s participation in the PLS trial is gone. We have proof that her documentation request and recommendation for the trial were forged. Christian is heading there now to discuss. So, yeah. You care and you will answer.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.” I hold his eyes and channel my inner bitch hoping against hope that I’m selling this bullshit story in a convincing way.
