The Art of You

“I’m not going to sleep. The doctor told y’all three times now my brain is A-the-fuck-okay, so talk.”

“Based on that sailor’s mouth coming back, I’m going to have to agree with you.” Bella had the uncanny ability to unfuck any bad situation with her humor. When she threw a smile on top of it, I might as well throw in my hand and fold.

“Yeah, okay.” Constantine joined Bella at my bedside. She hadn’t left me alone for a second. He quickly glanced at my father, who was standing before the window, quietly observing us. “You want to fill him in, or do you want me to?”

“Go for it.” Dad’s attitude wasn’t lost on me, even if the drugs were still kicking around in my system, just not as strong as they were before.

Facing me again, Constantine began, “Last night, when I tried to get ahold of you, your phone kept going to voicemail, and then when you answered⁠—”

“The signal died,” I finished for him, remembering more of the pre-crash situation, but still recalling nothing about the after. And could I? I’d been lights-out, apparently. “Let me guess,” I said, putting two and two together now that I had an hour to stew and wonder what happened, “one of the security guards was dirty. I thought we were having them followed just in case?” At Constantine’s firm nod, more pieces clicked. “Someone ditched their tail, so you were calling to warn me. Who was it? One of the ambassador’s security detail? That’s who hit us, right? And they died?” Must be why we’re still alive if they caused the wreck. They could’ve easily taken us out after that since Bella and I lost consciousness.

I resisted the urge to allow that horrific scene to play out in my head. You’re alive. You’re safe. We both are.

“They think what happened to you was probably an accident due to the bad weather. The driver lost control of their vehicle and spun, which is why you were hit multiple times,” my dad piped up. “If it were on purpose, they’d have had their lights off so you wouldn’t see them coming and be able to avoid them.”

Lost control, my ass. I kept my attention trained on my father for clarity, unsure if he had plans to give any.

“Right, because if an asshole wanted to cause a wreck in the pitch black with shit visibility from the rain, they’d be able to see their target without headlights? Use night vision, then?” Constantine had a point. Sarcasm warranted and then some.

“The police are wrong about the accident.” I may not have recalled what happened afterward, but I remembered the gritty details from before. “They came around the bend, and I narrowly dodged a head-on collision. They still clipped us, though, which sent us into a spin.” More and more was coming back to me now without the drugs as potent. “They rammed us two more times after that. Let me make something perfectly clear, they hit us on motherfucking purpose.” My jaw strained as I stared at my father, trying to lift my head. “Please be sure to use those exact words when speaking to the police.”

My father refused to look me in the eyes as he ignored my statement, opting to carry on with the bullshit official version of events. “Well, it’s not the police making that call, it’s the Feds.” Then he killed me with his next words. “They’re handling the case because we’re dealing with a double homicide involving two of a diplomat’s security personnel.”

And there it was. Not one death, but two.

Chills rolled down my aching spine as I pulled my hand away from Bella’s touch, curling my fingers inward as I tried to latch on to something. A memory. Anything. Homicide? “Details.” I clenched my jaw. “Just get this over with. Tell me everything you know.” They couldn’t charge me with vehicular manslaughter. The fuckers hit us, not the other way around.

Without waiting for my father to control the narrative, Constantine took the lead on filling me in. “The ambassador’s security team split up into two vehicles. Malik followed Rafael and Carla’s Tahoe, and Eduardo and the other guy, Chris, were tailed by Marc. They were both supposed to be heading into the city where Carla planned to connect with Special Agent Cattaneo to see her daughter.”

That all tracked, but I could tell the minute my father took over what he was about to tell me wouldn’t. “Eduardo texted Rafael there was an issue with the SUV, so they were swapping it for Chris’s truck, which he’d left at a gas station not too far from the party. We confirmed the F150 was registered in Chris’s name. And according to Rafael, Chris had been sick earlier in the week, so he drove up from D.C. separately from his team. He came a day after the ambassador was escorted to New York but the night before the kidnapping took place.”

Sick my ass.

“That text from Eduardo when they pulled off at the gas station was the last Rafael heard from them.” I’d swear my father had aged fifteen years since the party last night.

Made two of us.

“Marc called to let me know Eduardo got off the parkway and went to a busy gas station. Eduardo and Chris went inside and then he lost them,” Constantine picked up where my father left off.

“They got the drop on Marc?” That was hard to believe.

“Hell if I know how, but they abandoned their SUV in the parking lot, which checks out with what Rafael told us they’d planned to do. Marc didn’t know they’d planned a vehicle swap for an F150, so he had no reason to suspect anything. But Eduardo and Chris had to have known they were being followed since they made an effort to sneak out of the gas station to get into the truck.”

It sucked, but it made sense.

“While you were asleep, we tried to hack the cameras at the station to see what went down, only to find out they’d conveniently been off for that time period.” And the bad news from Constantine kept coming.

“Great, these dead assholes have an alibi as to why they were in that truck so it wouldn’t look suspicious.” None of this was good, but bottom line, they died, not us. And the FBI could call it an unintentional accident all they wanted, it didn’t change the fact I was innocent in their deaths.

Constantine’s spine straightened, only for his shoulders to roll forward from exhaustion. Doubtful the man had slept. “I’m assuming they found you because they tagged the Porsche while you were inside the party. I don’t buy the story the Feds are selling about them taking the same back road as you to bypass traffic on the parkway, and they just happened to come across your path.”

“Let me guess,” I said under my breath, “the Feds didn’t find evidence of a tracker?”

“No,” he was quick to answer me. “The second I realized I couldn’t get ahold of you, I tracked your location through Izzy’s phone and sent the local police the coordinates to find you.”

“It gets worse.” That was the last thing I wanted to hear from my old man. “They didn’t die from the accident.”

“Way to bury the lead.” I’d targeted my dad with my frustration. “How’d they die, then?” What in God’s name was everyone keeping from me?

“They found two nine-millimeter slugs in Eduardo’s chest. Same for Chris. Both hit from about ten feet away. Both double-tapped just left of center. Their sidearms were still strapped.” Constantine may have been speaking, but my attention was fully focused on Bella as he shared the shocking news.

Someone had a Glock on that road while I was un-fucking-conscious? All the things that could’ve gone wrong last night played out in real time in my head, like pages of a book flipping fast and uncontrollably.

Scene by scene.

All horrible and bloody.

She’s alive. She’s safe. I had to drill those words into my head so I didn’t have a heart attack.

“We don’t know who killed them. The truck was left abandoned, and the rain washed away any evidence of a possible third person there.” My father’s use of the word “possible” stole me free of the hellhole I’d been in—the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens running rampant in my brain—and back to him. “The question is,” he said rather steadily given the subject, “why not also kill you and Isabella? Even if this person was in a rush to take off into the woods, they’d have had time to take you two out, especially if you were unconscious.”

“You’re telling me those two men were executed, and we have no proof anyone else aside from me was there to pull the trigger?” Is that what you’re saying?

“Unfortunately.” My father rubbed his eyes. “I’m hoping your saving grace is the fact that when the police arrived, they found you unconscious and still strapped upside down in the Porsche.”

I processed everything he’d shared, trying to wrap my head around the information. “Just tell me it wasn’t my Glock used to kill them.” I uncurled my fist and looked down. “Any residue?”

“They swiped your hands. Isabella’s, too. No residue. Your tox reports were also clean.” My father blinked, and I knew the moment he connected the dots of what I’d admitted. “Wait, you were carrying?”

“Of course I was carrying. The lockbox I’m sure the police already found in the trunk will be empty because I, uh, was holding it when . . .” Shit. A new memory unlocked. After the accident, I’d been prepared to take a shot if needed. “So you’re saying the police didn’t find my gun there when they arrived?”

My father shook his head no. “No murder weapon, which is another reason I don’t think they’ll charge you yet.” He quickly removed his phone from his pocket and held it between his palms, probably itching to call two people. First his campaign manager, then his army of attorneys.

“Redact the word yet from your statement, sir.” Constantine was always going to bat for me. When my father didn’t answer him, he focused back on me. “Your hunch about Eduardo and Chris was right, or they wouldn’t have come after you. They had to be insiders. They were probably hoping to catch up with you and force you to take them to the men we had as hostages so we couldn’t turn them over to the FBI. They didn’t want them giving up their names in an interview.”

My father’s exasperated sighs and overall agitated demeanor were starting to grate on me, but they didn’t seem to bother Constantine at all. He went on with his theory, ignoring my father completely. “There had to be a third person in that truck with them, someone they met at the gas station, but we can’t prove that since the cameras were off.”

“And maybe this third person realized Eduardo and Chris intended to take out his buddies instead of rescuing them, so he surprised them alongside the road and killed them,” I added, following his line of thinking, in agreement. “He kept us alive to come after us later, figuring he could force us to locate his detained friends. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there, which meant he had to leave the truck.”

“Or maybe he even followed them in his own vehicle but had no time to drag you all away,” Constantine noted.

“But Eduardo and Chris didn’t know about the real plan, right?” Bella chimed in. “They had no clue Lola was being rescued by our people, so they wouldn’t have had the foresight to tag the Porsche during the party.”

“But if they had someone on comms outside, who wasn’t on the guest list for us to vet, and they were transmitting⁠—”

“They’d overhear what happened in the library, and they’d have time to send someone to locate my Porsche and set the plan in motion,” I finished for Constantine. “So, how do we prove this? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like the Feds want to accuse me of manslaughter. They’ll say I assumed they caused the accident on purpose, considered them threats, and shot them in cold blood.” No way I killed them, right? “Was my window even down? Broken? I mean . . . I could take those shots even upside down if I had to.” To protect Bella, no doubt in my mind. I was unconscious though. I mean, I was, right?

“They found one of those emergency tools on the ground. The kind you use to puncture glass and cut through a seat belt. Based on the evidence, the window was broken from that and not during the crash.”

At Constantine’s words, I closed my eyes. “The only way I did that is if they were an immediate threat to Bella. I wouldn’t have shot to kill unless I had to.” I let go of a deep breath and opened my eyes, remembering the lack of residue on my hand. Another saving grace. “No way I hid the gun and washed my hand free of the residue, then managed to get back into my seat upside down just in time to lose consciousness before the police arrived. It sounds ridiculous even saying it, let alone doing it.”

“We’ll figure this out.” Constantine folded his arms and gave me a firm nod, letting me know he believed I didn’t kill those men.

“All I know is that we can’t let the media get wind of this. It’ll cause too many headaches for all of us.” My father, always the politician.

“What does the ambassador think about all of this?” Bella, sliding in with the all-important question I’d been too focused elsewhere to ask myself.

My father faced her, undoing the top button of his shirt. There was something in his eyes, a look I’d seen from him a few times in the past. He’d honed his abilities to lie over the years to the point I could barely detect his bullshit anymore, but every so often, if his emotions got the best of him, the mask fell.

What is it you’re keeping from me?

Before I could press him, he answered Bella’s question. “Carla’s already back at the embassy in D.C. with Lola, and her main focus is on being with her daughter. She’s obviously relieved her kidnappers are now in FBI custody as well.”

“And Rafael?” Constantine asked with a quick follow-up. “Tell me he’s still around to answer questions.”

“He went back to D.C. with Carla, but he answered the Feds’ questions before he left. She didn’t want to travel without him, though. He’s the only one she trusts from her team right now.” When my father undid his second button, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“What aren’t you telling us?” There’s something, I’m sure of it.

“Nothing. This just doesn’t look good for any of us.” He waved me away as if that quick dismissive gesture would shut me up.

I knew him well enough to know I’d have more luck prying a seal from a shark’s mouth than information from my father if he didn’t want to talk.

“Don’t forget, you came to us for help,” Constantine pointed out in case my old man chose to ignore the favor he’d called in to us.

My father brushed him off and gestured toward the window. “The media is camped outside. I’m sure someone in the Bureau will leak the full story to the media anytime now.”

And there it is. It was possible he wasn’t keeping secrets, just interested in keeping his job. He was worried about negative headlines impacting his reelection campaign.

“I assume your brothers turned over the two men they kept alive to the FBI a long time ago?” Like, before we knew we’d need to interrogate them ourselves.

“Yeah, and I doubt the FBI will confirm whether or not Eduardo and Chris were working with them,” Constantine responded.

How the hell did I let myself get in this situation to begin with?

“Unfortunately, given my son is involved in this mess, the Bureau won’t share details of an ongoing investigation with me. So, I’ll probably know after the media does.”

So, we’ll be on our own to figure this out. I held my jaw at the sudden burst of pain radiating there, and a new memory unfolded in my mind in the process. Bella had been about to share what Kit had done to upset her. A reporter was why I’d pulled over to begin with.

Bella fidgeted with her sling, staring at my arm, once again appearing to be lost in some type of stupor. She’d been mostly quiet throughout this conversation, offering her support simply by standing by me, and I was grateful.

“And how much do the media know?” I honestly didn’t care about the grief they’d cause my father, only the headache they might cause for Bella and her family.

“That you were in an accident on the way home from my party. That’s all for now, but it’s already too much,” my father answered. “I need to get you out of this hospital as soon as possible.”

“You think the Feds will let us go home?” Bella asked, her voice still as fragile as glass.

“I’ll make sure of it. After all, you’re technically in this mess because of me, right?” My father’s sarcasm was frustrating, but not too shocking. “To help explain how you got mixed up in all of this, I had to let the FBI know you were working with Agent Cattaneo to rescue Carla’s daughter. But without the murder weapon, and no witnesses to rely on, the Feds don’t have anything to hold you on. Plus, you were out of it when the police arrived.”

“I’ll see if Alessandro can look at last night’s security footage from the party,” Constantine suggested. “Hopefully, there’s an angle of the parked cars to see who may have planted a tracker on the vehicle. If Alessandro can’t hack the system from afar, he’ll have to head to Scarsdale and handle it on-site.”

“Handle it quietly. I’ve promised the director there won’t be any interference from you all with this investigation, and I don’t need to give them more ammo to lock up my son.”

Right, that’d ruin your chances of reelection. I kept my sarcastic thoughts to myself for now. “You do know I didn’t kill those men, right?” I didn’t need to remember what happened after the crash to know that truth deep down in my bones. Their blood isn’t on my hands. “You believe me, right?”

My father’s brows stitched together, and his quiet nod instead of a resounding yes about broke my heart.