Another text dinged.
No clear shot of Nasir. Don’t worry. He’s got to come out sooner or later.
No.
No.
No.
A flush. The sound of running water. Haris stepped out of the bathroom.
“I was thinking…” he began. He trailed off as he saw her horrified expression. As he saw the phone she held in her hands.
“Well,” he said slowly, his voice low. “Shit.”
25
•
“Hena. Please relax.”
Relax?
She couldn’t relax. Every nerve in her body was crackling. Her pulse pounded in her head. She tried to draw in a breath, but her lungs were tight. Too tight.
“I can explain,” he said, his demeanor maddeningly calm.
The image appeared in her mind’s eye, unbidden: Nasir’s battered face, the shattered look in his eyes, the purple bruises, his shaking hands. His bloody fingers.
It happened here. In this room.
Her insides churned. This couldn’t be right. It made no sense. This wasHaris.
“Fine,” she said. “Go ahead. Explain. Tell me you weren’t the one hunting Nasir. That you’re not the reason he had to go on the run.”
“Hunting him?” He looked hurt. “I’d say it was more like he was hunting me. Always crawling back, asking for more money—again and again. Never a thank-you. Not once.”
Her guts twisted. This wasn’t an explanation.
It was a confession.
“You were the loan shark.”
He grimaced. “I don’t like that term. I’m there for people when they need me. When they’ve run out of options. I help them. Like your father did.”
My father.
Looking at her expression, he laughed gently. “You didn’t know? Yeah, I worked for him. Everything I am, everything I’ve built—it’s thanks to him. He was the best in the game.”
The blood drained from her face. She shook her head, her brain fighting to process his words. He watched her with something like pity. His eyes flicked around the cabin before landing back on her.
“I was curious if you’d recognize this place. He never brought you here, did he?”
Hena moved to speak, but nothing came out. Her hands fell to her sides, her fingers curled and digging into her palms.
“This cabin is his. Or it was,” he amended. “I helped him with the less savory aspects of the work we did. I dealt with those who took his generosity for granted. After his death, when no one claimed it, I decided to look after it. It’s my way of honoring his memory. This cabin looked after me as much as I looked after it.”
She felt sick as this information settled in. Haris was one of her father’s “kids”?