Page 105 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

“Listen, about those guys moving in on your territory…” She trails off, her gaze flicking to the cracked dashboard. “I could spare some of my people to help you defend it.”

The offer takes me by surprise.

“Why the hell would you do that?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

She shrugs, her jaw working. “We can’t exactly let everyone know we’re at each other’s throats, can we? If we’re going to keep up this whole ‘allies’ charade, then we might as well act like it.”

I narrow my eyes, studying her face. Is she serious? Offering to help me defend my turf when she could just as easily sit back and watch me struggle? Even if I let myself believe her bit about keeping up appearances, I’m not sure I’d do the same if the situation was reversed.

“You sure about this?” I ask, not even trying to hide my skepticism. “Your people might not take too kindly to the idea of helping me out.”

She meets my gaze, her dark eyes fierce. “They’ll do as I say. And I say we help each other out on this one.”

I don’t commit, but I don’t turn her down either. We’ll see how this plays out.

Quinn and I head inside, climbing creaky stairs to the second floor. The place smells like stale smoke and old takeout.

“Which one is it?” I ask, glancing at the numbers on the doors.

“Here.” Quinn stops at a door with a worn brass knocker. She raps sharply, the sound echoing in the narrow hallway.

Footsteps approach, and the door swings open to reveal a balding man with a paunch. His eyes widen at the sight of Quinn. “You Jonah’s kid?”

She nods, stepping forward. “You knew my dad?”

“Tommy Russo. Yeah, we ran in the same circles for a while. Come on in.” He steps back, holding the door open.

I follow Quinn inside, my gaze scanning the small, cluttered apartment. The furniture is mismatched, and the walls are covered in vintage concert posters. Russo offers us a seat on a lumpy couch, then takes an armchair facing us.

The guy looks harmless enough, but I stay on guard, watching Quinn out of the corner of my eye. She carries herself with an ease that’s damn near impressive. She’s all business, no hesitating or second-guessing herself.

“When was the last time you saw my dad?” Quinn asks, getting right to the point.

Russo scratches his stubbled chin. “Gotta be… what, five, six years ago? We lost touch after that.”

“Do you know why?”

He shrugs, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “Your dad… he went dark for a bit. Fell off the radar.”

“Dark how?”

“He started running with a rougher crowd. Your dad knew how to handle himself, but it seemed like he was looking for trouble.”

Quinn’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Russo. “Do you know who these people were? Any names?”

Russo shakes his head. “Sorry, kid. It was all pretty hush-hush. Your dad kept his cards close to his chest.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens, and I can almost see the frustration building in her. “Okay. Thanks for your time.”

We get to our feet, and Russo walks us to the door. “Take care.”

We head down the stairs, the afternoon sunlight making me squint after the dimness of Russo’s apartment.

“Well, that was a dead end,” Quinn mutters, her hands shoved in her pockets.

I’m about to suggest we hit up the next name on our list when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, my stomach sinking. It’s one of the nurses from my dad’s care facility.

“Hold on a sec,” I mutter to Quinn, stepping a few feet away and answering the call. “What’s going on?”

“Your father’s had another episode, Mr. Morelli.” The voice coming through the phone sounds breathless. “He’s calmed down now, but I thought you should know.”

Shit. The facility where my father lives is a good half-hour drive from here, and I don’t wanna go there with Quinn. But before I can come up with an excuse to shake her, she’s at my side, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” I lie. “Just an errand I need to run. You can make the next stop without me if you want.”

“No, that’s okay.” She crosses her arms, clearly not backing down. “I don’t mind coming with you.”

Love how she’s acting like I fucking invited her. I clench my jaw, knowing there’s no point in arguing. “Fine. Let’s go.”

We climb back into Quinn’s car, and I give her the address of the care facility. As we drive, I feel her gaze on me, curious and questioning. I keep my eyes fixed on the road, my jaw tight. I don’t want to talk about this. Not here. Not now. Not with her.

She glances around as we pull up to the facility, taking in the well-kept grounds and simple, modern buildings. “What is this place?”

“An errand,” I repeat, getting out of the car and heading inside.

A nurse I vaguely recognize—Becky, I think her name is—meets us at the front desk.

“Mr. Morelli, I’m glad you came. Your father is in his room. He’s resting now.”

I nod sharply. “Thanks.”

Becky’s gaze drifts to Quinn, her eyebrows drifting upward a little as she takes in Quinn’s teal hair and tattoos. “Who’s your friend?”

“A colleague,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Can we go see him?”

Becky nods, leading us down a quiet hallway to my father’s room. My heart is pounding in my chest as we approach, and I force myself to take a couple of slow, deep breaths. Seeing my dad like this always hits me hard.

He’s sitting in a chair by the window, his eyes closed, looking older and more frail than I remember. A book is sitting open on his lap, his thin chest rising and falling slowly.

“He fell asleep a little while ago,” Becky murmurs. “He should be okay now, but we’ll keep an extra close eye on him.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

Becky gives me a sympathetic smile and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I glance at Quinn, feeling uncomfortable under her steady gaze. “He’s got some kind of dementia,” I explain, my voice gruff. “Went downhill fast.”

I watch as my dad’s eyes slowly open, his gaze unfocused at first. Then he spots me, and a smile spreads across his weathered face.

“Nico, my boy,” he says, his voice weak but warm. “It’s so good to see you.”

I nod, keeping my distance. “Hey, Dad. How you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just fine. Who’s your friend?” He peers at Quinn, his smile never faltering.

“This is Quinn,” I say, not offering any more explanation.

“Lovely to meet you,” my father says. “Nico, you should bring her around more often. It’s nice to see you with friends.”

I clench my jaw, fighting back the urge to snap at him. Instead, I force a tight smile. “Sure. We can’t stay long though. Just wanted to check in.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, reaching out to pat my hand. “You’re such a good son, always looking out for your old man.”

I pull my hand away, unable to bear his touch. “We should get going.”

As we leave, I can feel Quinn’s eyes on me. We climb into her car, and she doesn’t start the engine right away.

“I thought you said your dad was an asshole,” she says, her voice careful.

I lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes for a moment. “He was. He is.”

“But he seemed so…”

“Nice?” I finish for her, opening my eyes to look at her. “Yeah, that’s the fucked up part. The dementia has screwed with his mind. It’s almost worse now, because he has no fucking idea what he did to me.”

Quinn’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “After my mom died, he just… checked out. Gambling, depression, hitting the bottle, you name it. He was never there for me, not when it mattered. And now? Now you’d think he was father of the year.”

I’m ready to drop it, but I can tell she isn’t satisfied with my half-assed answer. My chest tightens. This bullshit wasn’t on my agenda today, but fuck it. The cat’s out of the bag now, right?

“He let them take me,” I say, the words bitter on my tongue. “Some guy he owed money to. I was…what, thirteen? Fourteen? They took me as collateral, said he’d get me back when he paid up.”

Quinn’s eyes widen, her mouth dropping open slightly. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened?” I snap, my voice hard. “I fought my way out. I wasn’t gonna sit there and wait for my dad to get his shit together. So I waited for an opening, attacked my guard with everything I had, and made it out on my own.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes dropping to the floor. “That must have been scary as hell.”

I shrug, not wanting her pity. “It was what it was. If I’d waited for him to pay them or find a way to rescue me, I probably would’ve died. So I figured out how to take care of myself.”

“And now you’re taking care of him,” she says softly. “Even though he let you down.”

I clench my jaw, the old wounds still fresh. “He’s still my father, no matter how much of an asshole he is. And that means something.”

She gives me a look I can’t interpret, her brows drawing together. “So, that’s it? You just… forgive him?”

“I don’t forgive him,” I say, my voice low and fierce. “But I won’t be like him. I won’t abandon my family.”