Dane

Fuck.

​​

He was going to have to tell her the whole story now. There wasn't any choice.

Her face hadn't changed when he said it, but she moved her body. While he remained sitting with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up like a shield in front of him, she turned around to face him, sitting so close she leaned one arm on his knee. Then she put her other hand on his again, wrapped her tiny fingers around his palm so they were holding hands. The touch of her skin made him want to pull her into his chest, to cover her completely, so nothing could touch her without getting through him. The temptation to do exactly that was strong. But he knew she wouldn't let him back away from this conversation now.

"Please, Dane," she breathed. "You can tell me."

His breath caught. He sank his head back against the wall again, praying that she understood he was going to speak. He just needed a second to figure it out.

When he straightened again, her eyes were wide with concern—for him—her forehead pinched. But she didn't look afraid.

"I…" he tried to start, but couldn't find the words.

"I know you didn't put your hands on someone else and kill them. You aren't a murderer," she said firmly. "So, tell me why you think you're responsible for someone else's death?"

Dane blew out a breath and started talking.

*****

He was twenty-two years old. His sister was nineteen.

With his imposing size, and the things his father had taught him, he'd earned some side cash during college escorting girls to and from events and parties, so they were safe. It had won him more than an income, he'd developed a reputation. Someone who could be trusted. Someone who wouldn't take advantage.

He'd never been viewed as safe before in his life. He discovered he liked it. And after hearing some of the stories from the women who paid for his help, he knew people like his father and those around him were far more common than anyone wanted to think.

Innocent women needed bigger, stronger people to help them stay safe. And he had both the strength, and the desire to do that.

He had a vision for building on that small seed of a business in a much more organized way. And Talia, his sister wanted to help. She hadn't entered college. Was drifting. But willing to work. Together, they had a dream. But to start they needed money.

Things had been tense with his father ever since he'd left at eighteen—not to turn his father in, but to turn his back on the path his father had laid out for him since his early teens.

Those first couple years away from his dad had shown him just how messed up his father's way of thinking was. Despite wanting to do better, wanting to be better than his father, he discovered his father had molded him. His mind had been…programmed. No matter what the circumstances, Dane always saw the angle. Always saw how people could be manipulated. And usually found himself using that to his advantage.

He'd worked hard to be someone who gave to others, instead of taking.

But when he decided to approach his father that year, he'd known it was going to take every skill and savvy he'd been taught to get through it.

He'd been so naïve. He'd genuinely thought he could make his father do what he wanted.

So, he'd set up a meeting with his dad and taken Talia, the only one of his father's many children—with several different women—that their father had ever expressed affection towards. Dane had been so certain that of any human being on earth, Talia was the most likely to appeal to his father's good side. If it existed.

As his father requested, they met at a back table at a high end restaurant, in a space no other diners had been seated. The staff were incredible attentive, and his father's assistant was with him. He was dressed in a fine, wool suit and, as usual, looked like he'd just come in from the boardroom.

Dane had been confused by the gleam in his father's eye when they'd first sat down. His father had seemed almost excited. Certainly pleased that they were there.

It had bolstered his confidence. Made him cocky. Stupidly so.

So he'd launched in, and laid out his plan, his father nodding along until Dane had thought, maybe his dad was changing. Until his father offered to mentor his business and implied they could use the access to people to their advantage. Of course he'd see it like that. Dane had scoffed.

"I don't need your help, I need your money. I'm not interested in becoming a part of your…circle, Dad."

His father's face had gone tight. The first clue. "Oh?"

"No. My business will be legit. You're going to buy my silence."

His father's hawkish gaze sharpened and he leaned back in his chair. "I am?"

Dane fixed him with a glare, ignoring Talia's warning hand on his thigh under the table. "I know who you are. I know what you do. And I know who would like to finish you."

His father raised a single eyebrow, tapping his finger on the tablecloth. His only hint to the tension that had made the room suddenly cold. "Is that right, son? You've got my number, huh?"

"I don't want your number. And I don't want to destroy you. You'll do that all on your own. I just want to be able to live my life. And I don't want you breathing down my neck. So I used what you taught me."

"Really? How?"

Talia's fingers dug into his thigh, but he took her hand and held it. "If anything happens to me after this meeting, there's a dead man's switch. The right people will receive a package with all the necessary leads and information to be able to uncover you."

His father didn't move or react. A good sign, Dane thought.

"All you have to do is give me the money, and leave me alone, and I'll do the same for you. I'll keep your secrets. The right agencies will never hear about you from me. And the right journalists will never get a whisper. Just some cash, Dad. That's all."

His father's jaw twitched. "How much."

"Quarter of a million."

His father coughed. "Is that all."

Dane had felt tough and strong and certain. He'd leaned forward across the table, using every advantage of his greater size and strength, just like his father had taught him to. "Yes, that's all. I'm not stupid, Dad. That's nothing for you. A small price to pay for my silence, and my loyalty."

His father's eyebrows rose. "Loyalty?"

"Yes, loyalty. I could have had you caught out anytime. I could have sent anonymous tips. I could have pointed journalists at you. I never have. I keep your secrets."

"Until I don't do as you ask," his father said, pointedly.

"Only in this. And only once." It was the first time he'd had the jolt of nerves, the first hint that he might not have thought this through well enough. But he was in it now. He'd shaken off the doubt and plowed on.

His father held his gaze for a long moment. "I don't think you want to do this."