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makes you think Richard and Matthew won't be able to convince the police of all you've done?”

The resulting grin painted the perfect picture of a madman. “The police chief and I have always had a good relationship when it came to protecting our citizens. He will not allow you or your depraved friends to destroy me with lies. There's no proof, nothing to connect me to anything. Why the hell would they believe a couple of disgusting men like them? I've seen what they've done to you. I have pictures. I've seen them fucking you on your goddamn dining room table, sucking your cock and licking your ass. They are perverts. They are not people anyone will ever listen to.”

Pictures? From inside our home? While I ignorantly went about falling for Matthew and Richard, my father had sent his man into our lives. And I had done nothing to stop it.

I'd heard the confession the FBI wanted, but I needed more. I rose from the chair, ignored the gun, and kept talking.

“Tell me about Danny Conner, Dad.”

His face paled. “How— ”

“I know all about your lover. I know you killed him.” I pulled the watch from my pocket and held out my hand. The watch sat on my flattened palm, shining and pristine despite its age. It felt heavy, as if the weight of my father's lies was tucked inside.

He shook his head, moving the gun from side to side with him, his eyes on the watch. “What?”

“You had his watch that night. You gave him the cocaine. Was there something in it?”

“No. I... I gave him his watch back because I couldn't keep it.”

“You put the coke in it!”

“Yes. But... I had to tell him it was over. I knew I'd break his heart. I wanted to ease his pain. I didn't want him to be lonely, to be sad. I-I didn't want to hurt him. Oh, God. But I did... I... ”

“Killed him.”

“No! I hurt him when I told him we had to end it. He was fine before then. He was high, but he was fine. He said he wanted some time alone. I left him in the bathroom and— I loved him. I didn't want him to die. I didn't want him to kill himself like that. I knew the moment I saw him on the floor that he'd done it to himself.”

A part of me hadn't wanted to admit the possibility existed that Conner had committed suicide. I'd never trust my father, but at that moment, I knew he was right. Whether he did it or not to hurt my father, Danny Conner had done the worst thing he could to his lover. He'd left him with a lifetime of guilt.

My father looked at the gun. He twisted his hand until the gun lay flat like the watch in my own hand. He stared at it as if he couldn't figure out how it had gotten there. “Oh, God. He'd hate me. He'd hate who I've become.”

I took a step toward him.

He shoved the barrel of the gun my way again. “Don't move!” His hand trembled. He jammed the gun in the air. “I cannot give up after everything I've done to get here. Don't you see that? I can't have lost everything for nothing.”

“But you have.” I gave up on the gun and looked at my father. “You can't control everything. You don't know everything.”

He glared at me and raised the gun higher. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about how you'll never be president.” I took a step closer. “You'll never be anything ever again.” Another step. “Including my father.” Step. His finger twitched over the gun's trigger.

I removed the small listening device from behind my ear. I let the smile of victory tell him what I held.

“You aren't the only one with connections. My friend Walter owns this wonderful technology company. They create all sorts of gadgets, undetectable shit to pick up the smallest sounds. He has a few friends in the police force himself, as well as the FBI. Would you like to meet them?”

That was the prearranged signal to let the agents know I was ready on my end. If they'd gotten what they needed, it wouldn't take long. If I could keep him distracted long enough...

His nervous gaze darted around the room. The fingers holding the gun squeezed around the handle.

Please don't let them lose me like this.

I fixated on the gun's barrel. One more step.

My hand rose before I'd decided what to do. At an inch from the gun, I met his stare again. A swell of tears filled his eyes. Mine met a similar fate.

I covered the last fragment of space between my fingers and the gun in a slow creep. I gripped the barrel and lowered it.

My father let his hand move. If he'd wanted to, he could have fought me on it, kept the gun pointed at me. And of course, he could have fired.

The gun dropped lower and lower. His shoulders slumped, and the furious, determined look disappeared, replaced with a vacant one.

When he spoke, his voice was neutral and possessed no emotion. “The moment I saw you fucking that boy in your dorm room I changed. That's when I lost everything.”

“No. It was when you took away every ounce of love from yourself that you lost it all.”

He blinked. A lone tear fell to his lapel. “Danny.” The misery of that whispered name sounded all too familiar.

The FBI forced their way into the house from every possible angle. My father recoiled two steps before they were upon him. They collected the gun and wrapped handcuffs around his wrists. His head hung low as they read him his rights and hauled him toward the door. Two other officers escorted Barry Fowler out behind my father.

An agent talked to my mother in the hallway. She nodded as the man spoke, but she never looked away from me. Tears overflowed with each blink of her eyes.