“If you walk out that door and pursue this, you’re no longer a part of this firm.” His pause is filled with hurtful things, like the unspoken sentiment that I’m no longer part of this family, either. While it breaks my heart for him to act this way, it doesn’t really surprise me. It’s why I’ve never challenged him before. On some level, I knew he’d be this way. It’s either his way or the highway, both personally and professionally. If I choose to walk my own path, I’ll have to walk it alone.
As if to drive home his point and the finality of it, he adds, “Whatever’s left in your office by the close of business will be thrown out with the garbage.”
I give him a single nod as I reach for the doorknob.
He’s throwing me out with the garbage.
Opening the door, I walk through it, walk away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known. And not once do I look back.
THIRTY-ONE
Nash
From my position on the stern, I can watch as the brightly lit Savannah skyline disappears on the horizon. I can’t remember being this homesick since the day I shipped out and left home for the first time seven years ago.
I’m not running for my life or going into hiding this time. I’m not sailing into the unknown this time. Not really. No, this time I know how long I’ll be gone and I know I’ll be safe on this luxurious boat. It’ll be like a millionaire’s vacation, every man’s dream.
Only it feels empty and lonely. Not much has changed in my life, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s bothering me so much. Or, rather, who is bothering me so much.
It’s Marissa.
I hate leaving her, especially right now, with everything a disaster between us. I hate the thought of her thinking I’m such a bad guy, of leaving her with the impression I did. I mean, I’m not the best guy, but I’m not the horrible monster she saw at the restaurant the other day. I haven’t been that guy since the day I met her, not truly.
Little by little, she’s made me feel again, and monsters don’t feel. They just damage and destroy and wreak havoc. That’s the reason I left, so I wouldn’t damage and destroy and wreak any more havoc. She deserves more than that, better than that.
But it sure makes me feel like shit to be watching land, and the possibility of going back to her, disappear right before my eyes.
Swallowing the sensation until it sits in the pit of my stomach like a bag of rocks, I turn and walk away from the railing, away from the view.
Away from her.
THIRTY-TWO
Marissa
Two weeks later
“So everything is ready and the depositions are scheduled?” Cash asks.
“Yep. And after that, Dmitry and Duffy will both go to safe locations with witness protection teams until the trial starts. Luckily, Jensen got the attorney general to help speed things along since this is such a big case. We were afraid the feds would try to take it over since it involves acts of terrorism as defined by U.S. federal law, but he’s agreed to let us prosecute it. It helps that I have ‘special knowledge,’” I tell him.
“I was hoping they wouldn’t see it as a conflict.”
“If I had to testify, we’d have a problem, but since Duffy’s testimony will be enough to get the only other people involved in my kidnapping, I’m clear to sit on this side of things.”
Just saying the words out loud still causes a flash of anger and bitter disappointment to course through me.
“Look, I know that bothers you. Duffy going free bothers the shit out of me, too. Trust me. He hurt us both. He hurt all of us. But his life will be over, just in a different way. He won’t spend it in prison and he won’t be dead for his crimes, but he’ll never be a truly free man. He’ll be hunted as a traitor for the rest of his life. Even in witness protection, wherever they stick him when all this is said and done, he’ll spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder, wondering if someone’s coming for him.”
“But all the bigwigs will be in prison.”
“Yeah, but Duffy will always worry that they’ve somehow managed to hire someone to kill him, or that they’ve paid off some law enforcement to give them his location.”
A fear that has steadily grown more powerful over the last couple of weeks rears its head. “Technically we have to worry about the same thing.”
“No. And that’s because the new leadership with this cell of Bratva has agreed to our protection. Even Slava and his cronies aren’t stupid enough to test the entire Russian mafia. They have ties, but their power is insignificant compared to that of a sitting head honcho.”
“God, I hope you’re right.”
I feel sweat break out on my palms.
“Besides, evidently my brother made quite the name for himself during his time at sea. And from what I understand, he’s put the word out that if anyone lays a hand on you, three hundred and sixty-five days from that moment, they’ll be dead a year.”
It takes my brain a few seconds to process that and laugh. But it’s an automated response. I’m still stuck on the fact that Nash has put out some kind of warning to anyone who might think to harm me.
But then common sense kicks in.
“I guess he needs to protect the people who are finally bringing him the justice he’s waited so long for.” I can’t keep the hurt and disappointment from my voice.
“I’m sure he wants to do that, too. But that’s not why he did it.” After a pause, Cash clears his throat. “Look, Marissa. I misjudged you. It took me a while to see the person you are deep down. But not Nash. I think he saw it right away.”
“Thanks, Cash,” is all I can manage past my wobbling vocal cords.
My heart aches. I want so much to believe Nash cared about me as much as I cared about him, as much as I still do. But if he did, he’d be here. With me. Where he belongs.
But he’s not. He sailed away. Out of my life. And one of these days, I’ll have to let him go.
THIRTY-THREE
Nash
Two months later
The balmy Caribbean air ruffles my hair as I stare out at the wide expanse of sea. As far as the eye can see in every direction, there’s nothing. I should feel relaxed and safe and satisfied after getting such an encouraging update from Cash. Everything is going along as planned, moving in the right direction. Marissa’s kicking ass and taking names. With that jerk-off Jensen’s help, of course.
I feel my lip curl at the thought of him cozying up to her over some law books. Just as it does every time I think of her with someone else, rage fills me. For a few seconds, I close my eyes and visualize throwing Jensen down on a fancy courtroom floor and beating the shit out of him, not stopping until his face is unrecognizable and my knuckles are a shredded, bloody mess.