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“Dana, you’re in control. Whatever you want me to do, just say the words,” Dylan said as he hitched his pants and squatted down. He held my gaze as a hand reached up and clasped the fist that I kept rubbing my chest with.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t plan for you to find out in that manner, but them coming here? That shit set me off. Perhaps I should have warned you beforehand. I’m sorry,” Dylan said.
“Dana, I won’t say anything,” Max promised, a look of sympathy in his eyes.
I didn’t like that. Nobody wanted to be a pity object. I’d earned the guy’s respect, and now my family had turned me into someone to be pitied.
“No!” Dylan bellowed forcefully, as if he’d read my mind. “No one here would judge you by them. Who the fuck wants people like that?”
“Not me.”
“Go ahead, put a stop to the illegal activities. That poor pool boy, is he okay?” I asked, feeling sick. What a bunch of assholes my relatives were!
All sweet and innocent with their public persona, all generous and caregiving, but underneath were hearts full of darkness and hate. I could well imagine Mom and Shania trying to force the pool boy to sleep with them. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’d seen them harass other young men who’d worked for the family, but to go as far as threatening someone with deportation when they were legal? Vile indeed.
“Honey, go home. Take a day to get shit straight,” Dylan said.
“No, I want to see the file.”
Dylan held my gaze and slowly shook his head.
“Sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that,” he demurred.
“Yes, I do. Dylan, I have the right. And I’m stronger than you think.”
Dylan swapped glances with Davies, who shrugged.
“Dana, what you’ll read will scar the gentle person you are. This concerns blood family. Do you really have to know? Can’t you accept that what Dylan has said is the tip of the iceberg and leave shit alone? We’ll deal with the situation, Hawthorne’s always do, and you know that,” Davies asked.
“No. Davies, I need the information,” I replied after a few moments.
It wasn’t that I wanted to know, it was I needed to. I came from these vile people. I may not be like them, but even so, my blood committed the wrongdoings. To understand the pain, I had to read that file.
“They’re not real family, Davies. You guys are. But I’m blood-tied to them and have to acknowledge the crimes. I might be able to help some of their victims,” I replied.
“Hawthorne’s have already helped them.” He looked at me once more. “Okay, you can read it, but I want a promise. As soon as you’ve finished, you let Dylan call Ezra to take you home. Trust me, Dana, you will want to rest after you learn what they’ve done.”
Without a choice, I nodded. I’d probably have agreed to anything to get my itchy fingers on the investigation.
“Place everything into away mode and come to my office in ten minutes,” Dylan said, resigned.
It was comforting than Dylan worried so much about me. But I had to know. Otherwise, the maybes and possibilities would always haunt me. Puffing out my cheeks with a sigh, I watched as Dylan nodded and walked off. Arturo and Davies crowded the desk.
“Are you sure?” Davies asked.
“Yeah, Davies. I don’t want to be the person everyone has to protect. Being the victim doesn’t sit well.”
“No, Dana, you’re not as obviously strong and in your face as the Hawthorne females, but deep down, there’s a quiet strength to you. And you’re a Hawthorne; that’s all that matters,” Max replied as he, too, moved closer.
“Do you really believe I’m all that?” I asked in wonderment.
“Yes. Why do you think Dylan went off the rails when you chased after Irish? You frightened the shit out of everyone that day. Dylan nearly broke his neck, trying to reach you. You don’t understand how much the team worries about you,” Arturo replied.
“I know you care,” I murmured, attempting to avoid their gazes, which were drilling into me right now.
“No, Dana, caring is something we do about people who ain’t one of us. Honey, we love you like one of the Hawthorne Females, but you’re a nicer version. You’re a sister to most of us, and you always make time when we want to complain about anything,” Davies stated.
“I don’t moan. I’m a man’s man,” Max denied instantly, and I giggled.
