Page 46 of Toxic

I blurt out, "John's fired. I'll hire and pay for my own driver going forward."

Dad snorts. "John didn't tell me anything until I called him to confirm where he dropped you off. It was after I got summoned into an emergency meeting with the head of all the crime families in New York City last night."

Bile crawls up my throat. I don't know what he's talking about, but I'm about to find out. I'm sure I'm not going to like it one bit.

I'm going to kill Cara for taking me there.

"What are you talking about?" I blink hard, willing my tears not to fall.

He crosses his arms. "How do you know about the club?"

My voice trembles. "Cara asked me to go out. I didn't know where we were going. How do you know about it?"

He glances at his empty tumbler as if needing more whiskey. He pins his focus on me. I want to crawl into a hole. He answers, "It's the only place in the city every crime family has agreed to co-exist peacefully. It's off-limits for violence."

Dizziness hits me. I plop down in the chair. I don't get involved in my father's business, but I'm not naive. While things were blurry, I know Dante and Gianni broke those rules because of me. Panic slaps me, and I cry out, "It wasn't their fault."

"So I hear."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

My father sits on the couch next to my chair. "Tell me you didn't know that man you were with has Abruzzo connections."

My mouth turns dry. Since I was a child, my father warned my brothers and me to stay away from the Abruzzos. They're the only family I'm scared of as much as the Baileys and Rossis. I shake my head hard, not wanting it to be true. I manage to get out a, "No, you know I wouldn't ever associate with them."

Dad's expression softens. "Are you okay?"

Shame forces the hard exterior I've created since Sean died to replace my shock. I square my shoulders. "I'm fine."

Dad shifts in his seat. Anger laces his tone, and I know it too well. It's the one I hear when he's trying to stay in control. "Gianni told me he had you pinned down."

A flashback occurs, but it isn't of last night. It's five years ago when all those men held me down, and Sean was screaming for them to stop. I fight the tears, sadness, and rage. I repeat, "I'm fine."

Relief fills my father's expression. He states, "Don't go back to that club, Bridget. It's not a place for you."

I don't care to go back to the club. But all the years of feeling pissed off over Sean's death flies out of me. "But it's a place for you?"

My father is no saint. Since my mother left, he's gotten more ass than Hugh Hefner in his glory years. But I have a feeling, all the things I saw at the club last night are only the tip of the iceberg. Something about it being okay for my father to spend time in the club but not me adds another layer of anger to my well of never-ending fury.

"I'm the head of the O'Connors," he states.

I sarcastically laugh. "So that allows you to fuck your women in public?"

"There are things that go on in that club—"

"That are okay for you, and I'm assuming my brothers, but not me? God, you're a hypocrite."

He grinds his molars and stares at the ceiling.

I rise. "Time to end this lovely chat."

He snarls, "You will not step foot in that club again. Do you hear me?"

I shrug. "Maybe we should create a schedule."

"Bridget," he bellows.

I jump, not used to my father shouting at me.

---