Beyond the Lies by Abbi Cook

Author:Abbi Cook
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-07-03T02:50:06.969991+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Sophie

“What did you do before you became a bad man?” I ask, needing to know the man who takes care of me is more than just a villain.

King shakes his head and shrugs. “Nothing. I guess I was a bad kid who grew up to be a bad man. I don’t know why you have such a hard time believing that. Was your uncle something before he became a bad man?”

I don’t have an answer for that. My Uncle Victor last appeared in my life at my third birthday party. I barely have any recollection of it, but from the pictures I’ve seen of that day, he’d become that bad man King talks of by then. There I sat at a picnic table in my backyard blowing out the candles on my birthday cake in my frilly pink dress with a big white bow in my hair and my mother standing beside me smiling in that stunning way she always did when she was truly happy. And behind us a few feet away, my father and his brother stood glaring at one another, my father pointing his finger in my uncle’s face, and my Uncle Victor staring back with hate in his eyes.

“I don’t think people are born bad, King. You had to be something else before you took this job,” I say, more curious now than before.

His dark eyes look flat, not like when we’re together and every time I look into them I can’t help but get lost in them. Now he seems so different from that man.

“You want me to be something honorable, but other than taking you off Tap and trying to make sure you eat and have somewhere to sleep, there’s no honor inside me.”

Why he insists on downplaying the good he’s shown me I don’t know, but I shake my head, not buying this bad guy thing anymore. “So you’re saying you and Tap are pretty much the same? How can you expect me to believe that?”

I expect my mention of Tap to upset him like it usually does, but this time, he rolls his eyes and smiles. “He’s an asshole, so no, we aren’t the same. He’s also a moron, like you said, so again, not the same at all. His version of bad fucks things up. Mine gets things done.”

Watching him speak, I can’t help but like to see him light like this, so I joke, “Bad man. Is this what you put on your tax returns for the IRS? Like I had to say I was a student last year. Do you write in bad man or is there a more technical term for what your job is?”

My question makes his mouth drop open for a few seconds. “You’re funny, Sophie.”

“I get my sense of humor from my mother. I also got my nursing skills from her, too,” I say proudly.

Suddenly, I miss her and my family, the life I had, more than I can handle. I don’t know what makes it hurt so much now, but I begin to tear up just thinking how worried they must be about me.

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