With a little guffaw of disbelief, she says, “So, I was just the most expendable option.”
“Do you have proof?” Ethan asks, features set in a thunderous scowl. “Do you have evidence that this is true?”
“I do. I have a whole folder. I’ll show it to you, if you need it. I wouldn’t make up something this heinous, believe me.”
“That son of a bitch,” Ethan says, shaking his head. He still looks surprised, but he’s clearly putting it together in his mind. Then, to Willow, he says, “This is why he came to my house. It wasn’t to defend you at all, it was to cover his own fucking ass.”
Ethan is angry, but Willow looks a little traumatized. I guess I understand. Hearing that your own father cares so little for you that he used you as a pawn in the name of business, that he had you kidnapped, terrified, abused—that he ruined your life to further his own agenda? That can’t be easy to swallow.
“I need to be alone,” Willow says.
She turns to leave, and I want to let her, I really do, but I remind her, “Willow… I really need you to call him.”
“No, you don’t,” Ethan says, shaking his head. Turning to Willow, he touches her shoulder and tells her, “Go ahead.”
“Ethan,” I say, meeting his gaze with an unspoken warning.
He meets mine, his blue eyes burning with vengeance. “You don’t need her to call him. You need me.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“He’ll show up if you call?” I ask, a bit skeptically.
Willow glances between us, then decides this isn’t worth an argument and heads down the hall, closing herself inside what I assume is their bedroom.
Ethan nods, patting the pocket of his jeans, feeling for his phone. “Yeah, he’ll show up for me.” Turning on his heel, he heads back to the living room.
I glance down the hall where Willow went—I don’t suspect she was faking her reaction, but it crosses my mind anyway. In her position, she could’ve retreated to the bedroom to retrieve a weapon of her own, or to call ahead and warn her piece of shit father that I’m coming for him.
Since I don’t think I have to worry about the former, I ask about the latter. “Would she call to warn him?”
Ethan shakes his head, grabbing his cell phone off the coffee table. “No. Not now. That asshole put us both through hell. I’d be thoroughly pissed off at her if she did something like that now, and she knows that.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“I still think Willow’s the better bet. I know he won’t bring a heavy guard to meet her, I don’t know what he’ll bring to meet you.”
“I meet him unguarded all the time,” Ethan grumbles.
This is news. Eyebrows rising, I ask, “Why?”
Glancing back toward the bedroom, he says, “Let’s go outside.”
I figure he means the hall, but Ethan doesn’t stop until we make it to his car. He nods to the passenger side for me to get in, and though I’m not at all used to being a passenger, I do.
“Why hasn’t he killed me?” Ethan suddenly asks, staring out his windshield.
I shrug. “Salvatore said it was because you’re with Willow. You weren’t looking into it anymore and enough time’s passed now, he probably figured it wasn’t a major threat. If she ever left you, he probably would’ve, just to tie up the loose end.”
“That’s fucking awesome,” he remarks.
“Isn’t it?”
Ethan nods. “So, how do we do this? Do you have more people coming, or what?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m gonna take him out myself.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ethan says. “What if he doesn’t show up alone? I mean, I do meet him unguarded all the time, but that’s when he’s calling the meeting. If I’m calling it, even for a good reason, he might bring a couple people.” Before I can say anything, he says, “And if Willow called, he wouldn’t have come. Not right now, not with everything that’s going on. He’s in hiding right now. He’s not coming out unless there’s something on the line—and no, he obviously wouldn’t care if Willow was on the line.”
“So what’s on the line?”
Ethan sighs, glancing back at the entrance to his apartment. “Leave that to me. I know what to tell him to get him to show up. I’ve been doing work for Salvatore for a while now. It started out legit, but… he started asking me to do more, and I needed the money.” Glancing back at me, he adds, “Willow doesn’t know.”
“She wouldn’t approve?”
He shakes his head. “She wouldn’t want me putting myself at risk.”
That’s understandable. Kind of hard for me to relate to, since all the women I’m around on a daily basis accept our lifestyle as normal, but I can see why outsiders would object.
“Well, what happens next isn’t your responsibility. You make the call, I’ll take care of the rest,” I tell him.