Back To Back - Cameron Chelsea M. - Страница 24

“You don’t want to know.”

“Fuck you, I want to know. Tell me now.”

What is it with stubborn men? I’m surrounded by them. I cross my arms and I’m about two seconds away from stomping my feet like a toddler.

I need to tell him about his father, but I have to deal with this first.

“I was doing surveillance and I had to turn my phone off so I wouldn’t be detected. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, Saige. I really am.” That I believe. He does look sorry.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Jesus.” I have to walk away from him for a minute. I go and sit on the hard couch. I hate this apartment. It’s clinical and cold and boring.

Sylas comes to sit next to me.

“You fucked up, Sylas. Big time. I really need to tell you something. If we’re going to do this, you and me, you have to tell me what’s going on. I don’t need to know every single detail, but if you’re going to be gone all night, I need to know.” He listens to me and nods, his hands clasped together.

“You’re right. I’m just not used to being accountable to someone else. It’s just been me for a long time.” I’m not exactly buying his explanation, but I have to tell him about his father.

“The reason I’m so upset with you is that my father told me something and he asked me not to tell you, but I think you need to know.” He sits up and I decide to take his hands in mine.

“Tell me,” he says, but there is absolutely no way to prepare him for this.

“Your father didn’t die in prison. He’s alive and he’s in Texas.” I watch as my words hit him. He’s still. So still. His hands are clamped on mine and his face is frozen.

Finally, he blinks and surges to his feet.

“That’s a lie. He’s dead.”

I shake my head.

“He’s not.” I reach into my back pocket and bring out one of the surveillance pictures I was able to snag. He unfolds it and stares at it. His hand shakes.

“It isn’t possible,” he whispers. “It just isn’t possible.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. I seem to be saying that a lot lately.

“No,” he says, crumpling up the picture and throwing it on the floor. “It’s a lie. He’s dead. He’s dead!” He storms through the apartment, and, if he’s anything like my father, I’m glad there isn’t a whole lot of stuff for him to destroy.

“I don’t know more of the details. My father does. He wants to kill him.” That makes him whirl around and glare at me.

“Where is he?” I’m not sure which “he” Sylas is referring to.

My throat is so dry. I need some water. “My father? Or yours?”

“Yours,” he growls. “Mine is dead.”

Shit.

“I don’t know. I think he’s at home.” As soon as I say it, he’s charging toward the door and I’m rushing after him.

“If you’re going to see him, you’re taking me with you,” I yell, but I don’t think he hears me. It’s hard for me to keep up with him as he barrels down the street to the BMW. He gets in and slams the door and I have just enough time to yank open the passenger side and throw myself in before he peels away from the curb.

I click my seatbelt, and tell Sylas to put his on, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m in the car. His foot is slammed down on the accelerator and he runs through two red lights.

“Sylas. You’re going to get pulled over and then we’re never going to get there.” He doesn’t acknowledge me, but he does pause a little at stop signs and he’s not so aggressive on the accelerator.

We make it to my parents’ house in one piece and I cringe because my mother’s car is there, along with my father’s. This is going to be interesting to explain.

Sylas out of the car and through the door before I can unclick my seatbelt. I rush after him and Martha comes out, flustered.

“Where is he?” Sylas roars. Dad appears at the top of the stairs and Sylas take them two at a time to get to him.

“Sylas? What are you doing here?” Dad says warily.

“I told him,” I say, loud enough for Dad to hear before Sylas gets to him. He reaches Dad before I’m halfway up the stairs. I scream as Sylas grabs my father’s throat and shoves him backward until he’s slammed up against the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sylas roars into my dad’s face. I finally reach them and throw myself on Sylas.

“Let go of him!” I scream in his ear. But it’s like trying to move a raging bull. I watch as Dad tries to get free, his eyes popping and his skin getting whiter.

“Let go!” I scream, pounding on Sylas. If I don’t do something, Sylas is going to kill him.

“Sylas, you’re killing him.” He must hear me on some level because he opens his hand and Dad crumples to the floor, gasping. I rush to him, to make sure he’s okay.

“Dad?” He gasps and holds his hand up.

“I’m fine,” he wheezes and coughs a bunch of times. There are red marks on his throat and I know there are going to be bruises.

He slides upward until he’s sitting with his knees up and his back against the wall.

“I’m fine, really Saige,” he says. His voice is raspy and I wonder if I should call an ambulance. I turn and look up at Sylas. The rage is still in his eyes, but there’s something else there that’s even stronger.

Pain.

I’ve seen it before, but never this strong. Never this intense.

“Sylas?” I say and he looks down at me. He clenches and unclenches his hands, staring at them as if he’s never seen them before.

“I’m sorry?” he says, like it’s a question. “I’m sorry.” He blinks, totally dazed.

“Are you okay?” I ask Dad again. He nods and I stand. I reach out to Sylas. I touch his shoulder and then push him a little. He doesn’t resist, so I grab him and lead him down the hall to my room. Even though he just tried to throttle my dad, I’m not afraid of him.

I close the door and turn to face him. He’s sitting on the bed, still looking thunderstruck.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

“I know,” I say. “But you did.” He nods slowly. I walk until I’m standing right in front of him.

“My father can’t be alive. He can’t be.” He reaches out and grabs onto my waist, burying his head in my stomach.

I reach down and stroke his hair. I’m watching the destruction of the man I love. He’s breaking apart in front of me and I don’t know what to do to hold him together.

“I used to dream that he was alive. That he would show up and find me, or find Lizzy. Back then I thought he just had a hand in her death. I didn’t know he caused it.” His shoulders shake and I just keep stroking his hair and holding onto him.

“He can’t be alive,” he says again, but he doesn’t seem as sure. I’m about to say something, anything, but there’s a knock at the door. It opens and Dad pokes his head in. Sylas looks up and I’m glad that I’m standing in between him and Dad.

“I’m sorry,” Sylas says.

Dad just nods once.

“This is why I said not to tell him, Saige,” Dad says, looking at me. Is he seriously telling me this is my fault?

“He needed to know. That man killed his mother.” I find myself feeling protective of Sylas. He’s never had anyone to protect him. He’s always been the protector.

Dad rubs his neck where the red marks are already starting to turn into bruises.

“You’re lucky your mother is passed out.” She likes to mix meds and alcohol and has a tendency to sleep for long periods in the middle of the day.

“You’re a liar,” Sylas says, and stands up. I still make sure I’m between the two men.

“I wish I was. I only just found out myself. He was able to weasel his way into Witness Protection and then he was able to change his identity a number of times and completely fall off the radar. I was only able to find him because he showed up in some surveillance photos. But you don’t have to worry about him. I have a team that’s on the way to get him and then I will dispose of him.”

Sylas just keeps shaking his head.

“No. No, no, no, no! Stop lying!” Sylas screams. He’s not going for Dad again, but he’s getting worked up.