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Chapter 38
DECLAN
Ifind my Dad back at home in his office, riffling through some paperwork.
“Hey Dad,” I say from the doorway, grabbing his attention.
“Hey!” he replies, seeming happy to see me. “Come in. I’m just trying to organize some of this shit.”
“What you need to do is throw some of this shit out,” I say. My father is a borderline hoarder with paperwork. My mother had always been on him to get a better system, and I had found myself saying similar things in recent years.
He smirks at me. “Someday, son,”—he motions to a large pile of papers that look as if they predate even his birth—“this will all be yours,” he promises with a glint.
I shake my head. “Don’t remind me.”
“What brings you here?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask before I unload my needs on him.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m slower than I was, but I feel great after the steroids. My next appointment, they’ll lay out the options for me and we go from there.”
I nod. “Does the name Eric Runge ring a bell?”
“Why?” my father asks automatically, and based on his reaction and his tone, it does.
“I found Vivian’s old landlord, and he said that a guy named Eric Runge came and asked if a Falco lived there, then told him to take a hike. Said he told him he would take care of his problem with me.”
My father marinates on the information for a moment. “Yeah, I know the name.”
My hackles go up. “Who is he?”
“He’s a dirty work-for-hire shitbag. I haven’t heard the name in a long time, though. I thought he had given up the job for hire. Last I heard he worked for someone.” The pulse in my father’s temple starts to throb, the one I see when he’s pissed about something. And something about this Runge guy has pissed him off.
“Maybe you two just don’t run in the same circles anymore,” I offer, trying to calm him down. The “low-life way” was what my father had called his life before my mom. He’d been a hustler, an enforcer, and countless other things that had been unsavory, as he put it. When he met my mom, she begged him to change his ways, and he had. He said going legit hadn’t been the easiest or the most profitable, but he would do it all again for her.
“Maybe,” he says thoughtfully.
“Can you point me in the right direction on where to find him?”
My father looks up at me quickly. “Why?”
“I just want to speak to him,” I say coolly.
“Declan, Vivian is safe. Leave it alone,” my father warns.
I feel my blood pressure rise at my father chastising me, at his unwillingness to help me try and protect Vivian. “If you don’t want to help me, just—”
“This is dark shit, Declan. What we do, how we deal with people…we just skirt over the edge to illegal. Guys like Runge worship their illegal ways like a religion. He names his prices and does anything, and I mean anything for that price. There is nothing sacred to him.”
“So I should just ignore the fact that the woman I love was almost killed and let this motherfucker walk around free?” I demand.
“Woman you love?” my father repeats back to me, and I am suddenly aware of the words that had come flying out of my mouth in the heat of the moment.
“Yeah,” I say gruffly and a little bit surprised, realizing it is totally the truth. “Dad, something just doesn’t add up here, you know?” I say, bringing us back to finding Runge. “This is more than a coincidence, and I need to find out why. Hell, our name was thrown around. They asked if a Falco was there, for fuck’s sake Dad,” I remind.
My father’s face remains neutral. He gives nothing away, and I wait him out. “I’ll ask around,” he finally says.
“Thank you,” I say, turning to leave.