The car pulls around to the back of Kent’s mansion and enters a garage. When I get out of the car, Kent is standing at the entrance to the house, his arms crossed.
The guards move to the trunk to remove my dad.
“Why did you do this,” I ask, glaring at the mafia boss.
He looks me in the eye. “Because I knew that if I let you say goodbye, you’d tell the driver your address and lead us right there.’”
I gape, realizing, of course, that I did precisely that.
“Whereas,” he continues, “if I told you that we wanted to take your dad for leverage, you’d have clammed up and given him a chance to run. Honestly, Fay,” he says. “You’ve got to become a little more canny if you’re going to survive in this world.”
I hang my head, suddenly ashamed and exhausted. He’s right, I’m too naïve.
The guar
