Page 83 of Targeted By Desire

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

There’s so many things I wish I could apologize for. Not seeing the signs sooner. Letting my curiosity get the best of me. Being too noble to let shit slide.

You deserved a better father. A better world.

I’m sorry I can’t give either to you.

I don’t expect you to do anything with the enclosed documents. I’m not sure there is anything you can do.

I just want you to know the truth about what happened to me.

Because they’ll twist it. They’ll feed you lies; the same way they did to me.

This system, these people… it’s all corrupt. And I am so sorry I won’t be around to shield you from it.

But, please know that no matter what happens or what they say about me: I loved you. You are the greatest thing I’ve ever done. And I have faith you’ll do what’s right with the information I’m leaving you with.

Last time we saw each other, we said “Goodnight” when it should’ve been “Goodbye.” So, I guess that’s how I’ll end this letter now.

Goodbye, Simone.

I love you.

-Dad

Teardrops splat on the ends of the paper as I moved it aside, revealing the missing pages of my father’s notebook, the tops dated with the week of his death.

Through blurry, wet eyes, I read about the epiphanies he’d come to about his case. The reason why he couldn’t find his target was because people in his unit were laying in bed with them. Some of his bosses, his colleagues - his best friend. All of them were in cahoots with this crime organization, assisting with keeping their shipments under the radar and keeping their men out of jail. And the only thing they asked for in return was enough money for them to live comfortably and the inside scoop on other organizations they could bust. They got the credit and the organization took over their clientele; it was a win-win situation for both of them. And Dad had all the evidence to prove it.

Dad pretended to act like he didn’t discover their corruption, but Logan knew him better than anyone. He saw right through the fake smiles and excuses. He knew Dad was on to him.

His last entry lamented over knowing Logan, lowest in seniority and closest to him, was going to be the one to pull the trigger. He just didn’t know when.

“Simone,” Logan’s voice cut through the silence, echoing from down the hall.

I couldn’t force myself to move. To run.

I only stared as he appeared, smiling, in the doorway, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his brows pinching together. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I almost didn’t have words to say to him. My throat burned with curses and threats, but my heart ached from the hammer that’d slammed through it. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to douse the rage and find something to say.

“Did you kill him?” I asked. The question was absurd once said aloud. Logan couldn’t have. He loved my father. He loved me. He would never…

“Kill who?” His brows stitched in confusion. “Simone, what are you talking about?”

“My father.”

He let out a laugh I might’ve believed if I didn’t have evidence in my hands. “What? Of course not! Why…why would you even think that?”

My fingers tightened around the papers in my hand, unintentionally calling his attention to them.

He stared at the papers as he leaned against the doorway, blocking the exit, and crossed his arms. “What have you got there?”

“How…how could you? And then just pretend as if…” I could barely stomach the thought, let alone say the words. My chest ached as if a knife was piercing through it - the sharp tip of the blade plunging directly into my heart.

Logan’s feigned smile of obliviousness fell into a line. The warm, bubbly man I knew disappeared, leaving me alone with a stone-faced stranger. “I did what I needed to do.”