Page 56 of Wicked Lies

She sat next to him on the bed. “He put her in the hospital?”

“He killed her.” Nick drew in a quivering breath. “Left her for dead on our kitchen floor.” Saying the words made his throat raw and dry.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, making it impossible to tell if she was repulsed or shocked.

“I knew the cops weren’t gonna do anything. They didn’t care about people like us, so I went to Frank.” Nick relived the day in his memory. “He gave me a gun, and we tracked the bastard down.”

Nick knew exactly where to find his father. He’d spent plenty of nights dragging him home from his sleazy hangout.

When he and Frank entered the bar, Nick called him out to the alley where they faced each other, father and son.

“You finally did it,” Nick said. “You finally killed her.”

“She was nothing but a worthless tramp.”

“Shut up.” Nick’s hand shook as he pointed the gun at his father.

“You don’t have the balls to pull the trigger,” his father taunted, “'cause you’re useless like that cunt mother of yours.”

He held the gun with both hands to control the shaking as all the years of anger, fear, and frustration welled up in him.

His father spewed out a mean, harsh laugh. It was the last sound he ever made.

A shot rang out a second before his knees buckled. His eyes registered one emotion, shock.

Frank stepped to Nick’s side and slipped the gun from his limp hand. “I didn’t think you’d be able to do it, kid.”

Nick stared at his father’s limp body, then nudged him with his foot.

“Don’t worry; he’s dead. You don’t take a shot like that and live.”

Nick scanned the alley, concerned about onlookers. “I thought you were still in the bar.”

“I figured you might need some help.” Frank curled his lip. “You were right. He was an annoying prick.”

“I wanted to do it but . . .”

“That’s why I came for backup.” Frank cupped Nick’s shoulder. “The first time is the hardest. Then it gets easier.”

“I guess.” His voice sounded far off and dazed.

“Get outta here and let me take care of it.” Frank holstered his gun, then eased the other weapon out of Nick’s fist and shoved it into the back of his pants.

Nick stared at his father’s limp body, and he felt washed clean for the first time. Free from guilt, free from anger. Just free.

Cheryl’s arms cradled him in a soothing hug.

“I never wanted to do anything more in my life, but I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“Because you’re not a killer.” She unwrapped her arms, and Nick was forced to look into her face. Miraculously, he saw compassion.

“It’s more than that.” He wanted to get the words right. “It’s because he was my father, and I was supposed to love him—and he was supposed to love me.”

“We were both betrayed by the people who we thought should care for us.”

Her words made sense. You can’t hurt someone who’s lost everything, and you can’t scare a person who has nothing to lose. Only now, he did have someone he cared about, and the fear of losing Cheryl twisted him up.

She stroked his cheek. “And although it’s made us horribly vulnerable, it’s also made us incredibly tough.”

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