Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
She must have Stockholm syndrome.
“Honey, he–”
“Angie, please. I don’t wannna talk about it. Have you talked to Mom?”
“Have I…have I what?”
“Mom? Does she know about either of us?”
My brain did some sort of backflip just even considering our mother.
“Uh, no. Are you fucking kidding me? Dare send a private eye up there to find out what happened to you and she didn’t give a shit about either of us. She’s a junkie and a drunk who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. The last words she said to me were ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish’ and she meant it. I feel the same about her.”
We were both quiet for a minute.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Holly looked older, more beautiful than ever, but it was like I wasn’t sitting across from my baby sister. It was like she was someone else. It was surreal.
I guess I should’ve expected it to feel different. We’ve been apart for over two years and a whole lot has happened to the both of us.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I haven’t a clue what she’s been through. I would never, ever want her to know the details of what I’ve been through.
My relationship with my sister would likely be different from what it had been. We lived in different countries, for one. We were both with “connected” men. We’d both been stolen away from our lives and imprisoned.
I’d found my happily ever after. I only prayed that she would, too. Here, in this place, I didn’t think she could.
“Forget the negative stuff. God, Angie, it’s so good to see you,” she said.
“No one calls me that.”
“What do they call you?”
“At the place I was at, they called me Felicia.”
Holly sucked in breath, her mouth in an O.
“It was a punishment, a way of breaking me. Convincing me I was someone I loathed.”
She knew how that’d impact me, being called my mother’s name.
“What about Dario? What does he call you?”
“Angel. He didn’t even know my real name, but he called me that a couple times and I took it on as my new name.”
“That’s what your dad called you.”
“Yep.”
“New old name.” She smiled brightly.
I felt a little bit warm inside.
“Have you contacted anyone else? People in South Carolina?”
“No. Up until now it hasn’t been safe. I’ve only been out a few months. Hopefully I can. Eventually. Dare told me that Charlie and Betsy still live on my dad’s farm and that they’ve been putting money away in my account, I guess dividends from the farm, for if I ever turn up. I don’t wanna put them in danger though, so I’m gonna wait a bit. I’d hoped that was where you went.”
“It’s where I’d have gone if I could’ve.” She smiled at me. “But, don’t wait too long. Never know what can happen.”
“True that.”
My little sister was wise; she always had been. I’d ask Dare if maybe we could consider visiting the farm at some point. I wanted them to know I was okay.
I didn’t know how my sister and I would have a relationship with her here but for now, at least I knew she was okay.
“You gonna go see Mom? If Dare says it’s okay?”
I frowned. “No.”
“What if seeing us, if us talking to her after all this time could help her decide to get better? What if she isn’t getting better because she’s lonely?”
I’d heard stories from Holly about how awesome our mother was before Holly’s dad died, how he’d gotten her sober. I’d never seen it.
“Let’s talk about Mom later. Right now, tell me about you, about your life here.”
She gave me a disapproving look.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re looking for reasons to convince me not to marry Alessandro. Stop that, Angie. I can barely wait to become his wife.”
She may be eighteen now, but my little sister was looking to me to be as naïve as she’d been at fifteen, when I’d first left for Thailand.
I put Angel and Holly in the car. Holly was still crying. She’d thrown a fit at the news she was leaving. But Alessandro took her into another room and shut the door and in less than five minutes, she was back, solemn, obedient.
He and I had talked, briefly. He wasn’t an easy nut to crack, but we’d sat, he’d poured me a drink, and then he shocked the hell outta me when he said,
“Dario, can I ask you something? For a favor.”
“Ask,” I invited.
I’d already thanked him for helping us with our problem ‘in the east’ and he’d smiled a little, not replying. I still didn’t know why he’d lent those resources but without them, it would’ve been a fuck of a lot harder to do what we did so seamlessly. The guns, Jonas? The bomb-making materials? He was directly responsible for Kruna being no more.