Page 52 of The Finish Line
“Too many.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Way too fucking many on both sides.”
“Those scars on your back. They’re from gunshots?”
I nod.
“When?”
“A year to the day I sent you away, to the day Dom died. Not a coincidence. I was finishing a run a block from my Charlotte office when I got gunned down on a fucking city street. Just more evidence that it wasn’t over, which only convinced me I was a fool to think about ever coming for you.”
“Did you—” her voice clogs—“did you . . .”
“Almost die? Yes. I was touch and go for about a week, from what Tyler said. And honestly, at that point, I didn’t give a fuck if I did. It would have been a relief for me.”
Her eyes water. Tentatively, she reaches out and cups my jaw. I cover her hand with mine.
“The aftermath of that night turned out to be far more than we could handle. I was in no position to drag you into that mess, no matter how much I wanted you back. I had eyes on you everywhere. So did your father up until the day he died. It was a silent partnership with my birds and his added security.”
She winces.
“I’m not saying this to guilt you, Cecelia. I just want you to know they may seem like excuses, but they are good reasons for me, reasons why I couldn’t contact you, couldn’t come to you. It was way too fucking dangerous the first few years. Those still wearing wings, still dedicated to the cause, were heavily vetted during that time. To some others, the ones we weren’t sure about, we made them believe the brotherhood was dissolving, becoming a thing of the past. Once all hell broke loose, we shrank in size, and in the end, Sean and I decided it was for the best. We knew what we were doing as far as you were concerned. It was safer for us to hurt you emotionally and for you to hate us for it. The more you resented us and stayed away, the better off you were.”
She runs her tongue along her lower lip, her eyes searching mine before she pulls her hand away.
“After all this time, you and Sean really never... talked?”
“I tried,” I admit. “Of course I tried. I tried to get him into the business side when his son was born to keep him safe, to keep Tessa safe. But no, Sean and I haven’t been the same since the day they returned from France and saw us together.”
Her voice is distant when she speaks. “All this time, I thought at least you had each other.”
I shake my head. “I had my precious fucking club, and that was all I had left, and it was falling apart day by day. Everything I worked for went up in flames the night Dominic died. And I didn’t care at that point, but it was the people who depended on me, on us, that kept me going. When the fog of war finally lifted, I got lost. I got lost in my head. And I guess in a way you could say—I went a little crazy.”
“I’m . . .”
“Sorry? Don’t ever be. It was only the first real taste of reaping what I’ve sown. I told you long ago I knew it would catch up with me at some point. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon. There’s more, and it’s coming, but they’re waiting for us.”
She nods as I turn the ignition and glance in the rearview at the necklace hanging from it. I reach up and pinch the metal wings between my fingers. “When I got here, Sean texted me, asking about you, and for the first time since Dom died, he asked about me. I think he’s finally trying to forgive me.”
Dropping the necklace, it sways back and forth as I put the car into gear.
“We’ll never be the same, but I knew that when I chose you over him, and that was before.” I exhale, and dread cloaks me as I fill her in on the rest. “Cecelia, they will always be after me, and I use the term loosely because the they is interchangeable. The night I came to you with that head wound? That was the result of another attempt on me that I wasn’t fucking expecting. I put more holes in him than necessary to make sure that was the end of the threat, but instead of doing what I should have and erasing any more threats, I laid low and came straight to you that night.”
“Who was it?”
“A house call from an enemy I made in France in my early days for an associate. And there’s a really good chance that’s not the last retaliation. There are long memories in this game.” She mulls over my words. “With you, I continually broke my number one rule. With you, I wasn’t thinking like I should have. I never really did after we got together, but I didn’t want to be without you.”
I stare at the open road before us.
“If we do this, really do this, you need to know, if they ever get to you, the most valuable thing in my fucking life, it’s game over for me, Cecelia. End of. I can barely handle dealing with the possibility of losing you. I’ve only survived this long without Dominic, and losing you, and Sean, my respect, my purpose, I just stopped fucking caring about everything that mattered to me personally. I became someone I didn’t recognize, and there was no one there to stop me from...” Flickers of the nights I let depravity consume me flash briefly, shadowing the rest of the light of day in darkness. I reach into those memories in an attempt to describe my state of mind. “I felt better not fucking caring, liberated in a way I have never been because I had nothing to lose. I had no one close to me anymore to worry about, and I was relieved. My head wasn’t racing so much, and I wasn’t...” I shake my head. “If they get to you now,” I grit out, “they take everything. So, this meeting is more than necessary. But all of this can stop right here, right now. I can’t walk away from you again, I can’t push you away again, and I never will, but you can order me away. If that’s your decision, I’ll respect it, because Cecelia, there’s a very real chance you could die for loving me, and I can only promise to try to keep you safe.”
It only takes her a second to nod before she straightens in her seat. “Like I said, I made the decision a long time ago, Tobias. Let’s go.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tobias
Age Twenty-One
Walking under the cover of the canopy of trees at the entry of the park, I shove my hands into my jeans, keeping a leisurely pace. A lone bird swoops in from above, catching my eye as it flies overhead before landing on one of the low-hanging branches. Eyes fixed on the bird, I feel his watchful return stare following my progress as I stroll past. My mind wars with the significance of its appearance as my gut tries to decipher if it’s a warning or a signal to keep going. I decide on the latter, walking further along the outskirts of the park. It doesn’t take me long to spot the group of men gathered in pairs at a cluster of tables, most of them older, mid- to late-sixties. All of them are situated across from each other, chessboards in between. Only one man sits alone, the pieces on his board scattered as if mid-game, the chair opposite him empty. Pulse kicking up, I take the last few strides, positioning myself amongst them before sliding into the vacant chair. The men surrounding us don’t so much as spare me a glance, too immersed in their own games.