Chapter 32

VIVIAN

The walk back to my parents' house was surprisingly longer than I expected. Probably because I did it on my own. Sebastian made sure to escort me out of the sketchy side of the park, so that people knew I was not "to be messed with" – his words, not mine. Basically, it was his way of telling the criminals in this town that Vivian Dawson is untouchable. However, I asked him to let me walk on my own from there on, mostly because I needed time to think.

As crazy as it might be, I was truly considering his offer. Not for me, but for the baby. He should have a father, but would having an outlaw dad be better than not having one at all? And if we were to remain separate, with Sebastian continuing with his line of work, would that mean people might potentially get to the child someday?

The way Sebastian put it, he evaluated every scenario. He said he didn't want me to end up like Lola, but he also said that because it was unlikely that the secret would be kept forever, the baby and I would be much safer with him than without him. He also assured me that being with him wouldn't force me to leave my friends, I could still see them, my family and everyone I know. I could still do my job and live a normal life. I had a hard time believing that, but he assured me that other than a few precautions, which are basically the same as any rich kid in New York City would take, everything would be more or less "normal".

It was a good logic, he probably was sure I would cave at the mention of my child's safety more than at his heartfelt confession. Because in the end, that's what this was all about. It wasn't much about me and my feelings – if any – for the baby daddy. It was all, or almost, about the baby and his safety. There was a high chance that, if I wasn't pregnant, I wouldn't need time to think about it, I'd have politely rejected Sebastian's offer.

Because the truth is, as much as I came to care about him over time ... I don't love him. I felt attracted when we were together in New York, sure, and maybe even now. I do care about him enough not to want him to suffer because of me. But ... love? Highly unlikely.

When you've loved the same man for so long, you don't just forget him and move on to the next one simply because he doesn't want anything to do with you anymore. When you've loved like I have, like I regrettably still do, it takes years to move on. If you ever do.

If I wasn't pregnant, nothing would matter. I would take my time, I would maybe even travel the world, seek new adventures and find myself again. I would rediscover my life, a life without Chris and his lies, his overbearing presence that I never considered as such until now.

But I am pregnant. A baby takes precedence over everything else by default. I had to focus on his safety and his future. Besides, the chances that I'll ever love again are way too feeble for me to even entertain the idea. However, a child needs both parents, so even though I know my mom and dad would be great help, my friends would swoop in immediately to be the greatest uncles and aunts ever, he'd still miss his dad. The question is, does his dad need to be the biological father?

With my head full of these dilemmas, I walked slowly back home, so slowly that when I got to my neighborhood it was already dark outside. What took me off guard was seeing police cars in my parents' driveway. For a moment, I worried something had happened to them, but then I realized Adam had probably called 911 when he saw me leave with Sebastian.

Nevertheless, everything seemed much calmer than I had imagined it would be. No red tape, no sirens everywhere, no onlookers badmouthing the reckless daughter that got knocked up by a drug lord, no journalists interviewing people that knew me as a child, only to be told that I was just a cute and sweet little girl, how could I ever do this to my poor parents?

I passed two officers that didn't even see me sneak past them, as busy as they were arguing about some basketball game, and I headed directly for the front door, which was wide open. In the living room, I saw my mom trying to calm my dad – always the more sensitive one of the two – as they talked to two people that looked familiar. Adam was pacing the room, eating his nails – as usual when he's nervous. When I moved closer, I saw someone else in the corner. "Dylan." I called out loud, forgetting that the other people in that room were talking about me.

"Oh, my God, Vivian!" My mom and Adam exclaimed at the same time, both rushing to me, but still being beaten by my ginormous dad and his bear hug.

He didn't say anything, he just ... hugged me. "I'm sorry, dad."

"You're safe, that's what matters."

"What the hell happened?!" Adam screamed before hugging me, too.

"I'm fine." I half smiled at Dylan, who was looking at me from the corner of the room. "I'm sorry I made a mountain out of a molehill."

When Adam pulled back, he sent me a curious glance. "But that was him, wasn't it? Sebastian ... or whatever his name is."

"Yes." I nodded. "That was Sebastian."

One of the cops, a brunette woman in her thirties that looked a lot like a young Salma Hayek, called me: "Could you please come over here for a moment, Ms. Dawson?" She said gently, and the fact that I spotted a light Mexican accent in her voice only confirmed my first impression. "We'd like to ask you some questions."

Squeezing my mom's hand, I took a deep breath, and went to sit before them, on the same spot where my parents had been a moment ago. I couldn't help but notice that they were both dressed a bit too elegantly to be detectives working in this Godforsaken town, yet they looked familiar. "I'm sorry about this, detectives." I mentioned, trying to ignore Dylan's attentive gaze on me. How did he get here so fast from New York? And who called him? Sebastian said he was laid back in a hospital, was that a lie?

"I'm Agent Ferrera," the brunette introduced herself, "and this is Agent Durant," she pointed at her partner. The fact that she underlined the word agent at each introduction might have been meant as a correction, but it felt more like a defensive response to being called a detective. Like, how dare you mistake me for some low level detective, I work for the majestic FBI – cue any TV show or movie from the police perspective involving FBI agents.

I nodded, unsure what to make of their presence in my parents' house. "Since when FBI handles abductions?" I couldn't help but quip. I didn't mean to be rude nor spiteful, I was just tired and I needed rest. The long hours of conversation with Sebastian wore me out, plus his offer hung over my head like some sort of impending doom.

"Since the potential abductor is one of FBI most wanted." Agent Ferrera said, sounding surprised, as if wondering how I could forget that small detail about my ex being one of New York City's most dangerous criminals.

"He didn't abduct me." I blurted out without thinking. I wasn't sure why I was defending him, since Sebastian technically did abduct me. Up until a few hours ago I was certain that the only thing that kept me alive was the fact that I was pregnant and that once I gave birth, I would be no longer useful to him. Then he came in with his heartfelt love declaration, calling me his queen and making all sorts of promises ... I was confused, I won't lie.

"No?" Agent Durant butted in, arching his eyebrow. "Then what do you call it when he takes you from your own home?"

"I ... went voluntarily." I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but more than my mom and Adam's confused looks, my dad's concerned one, I felt Dylan drilling a hole into my head from behind me. I still had no idea how and why he was here when only a couple of hours ago Sebastian said he was laid back in a hospital. Granted that Sebastian might have lied, but why would he? More specifically, why would he lie on this particular topic?

"You went voluntarily with the same man you were hiding from?" Agent Durant insisted, sounding perplexed and condescending at the same time.

"He wanted to talk." I shrugged, then turned to Adam. "I'm sorry I worried you for nothing."

"What did he want to tell you?" Agent Ferrera asked.

"Well, what does your ex normally want when he comes knocking on your door 3 months after the breakup?" I shrugged again, feigning a nonchalance I didn't feel.

"He wanted to get back with you?" Agent Ferrera asked, clearly fishing for more interesting answers than my love life.

"Yeah, he said he was sorry and ... the usual things." I guess I can add to my resumé the skill able to lie to the FBI without batting an eye. A lot of corporate management positions might open up for me just with that.

"Where is he now?" Agent Durant asked more aggressively, only to get a light pat on the leg from his partner, which was either meant as a warning to let her conduct the interrogation or to be gentler.

"I don't know where he went," that was the truth, "we talked for a few hours, then I walked back home. I have no idea where he is now." He actually didn't tell me where he was going, but he did say it was better if I didn't know. Now I understood why. You can't be accused of harboring a fugitive if you really don't know where he is, can you?

"So, you didn't talk about anything other than your relationship?" Agent Ferrera insisted. "He told you nothing about his job in New York or any kind of suspicious activities?" I merely shook my head in response, and she could barely hide an exasperated sigh. "Ms. Dawson, may I know why you've been hiding from Mr. Banks if-"

"Woodthorne," I mentioned, hoping none of my face muscles betrayed me, "his name is Sebastian Woodthorne."

"Also known as Tyler Banks and a lot of other aliases."

"No, the man I dated, the man that was here today was Sebastian Woodthorne."

"Are you saying they are two different people?"

"I don't know, I have never met a Tyler Banks." Hey, Siri, can you go to jail for lying to the FBI so brazenly? Asking for a friend.

Both agents looked at me flabbergasted, but no more than Adam, who looked like he was going insane trying to piece together the pieces of the puzzle. "Ms. Dawson," Agent Ferrera leaned closer, as if to say something in confidence, but her tone was highly formal, in contrast with her low soothing voice: "I hope you know that lying to the FBI is a serious felony."

"It's not." Adam scoffed theatrically, which made every head turn his way, including mine. "Giving the FBI a false statement is illegal. Lying per se is not."

"And what's the difference?" Agent Durant bit back, evidently annoyed.

"What, they don't teach basic grammar at Quantico?"

"Mr. Knight, please refrain from this kind of childish backtalk. This is serious business." Agent Ferrera said. Somehow every word that came out of her mouth sounded polite, no matter what.

"Adam dated an FBI agent," I mentioned, trying to avoid him getting arrested for quarreling with them or worse, getting shot for God knows what reason – it'd be so Adam. "That's why he's ... well acquainted with the Agency's ... policies."

"Poor soul." Agent Durant scoffed.

"Oh, come on, now, honey, don't be jealous." He winked in the agent's direction, which only made him madder.

"Please ... let's not get sidetracked." Agent Ferrera lost her calmness for a moment, and stood up. "Ms. Dawson, I believe Detective Powell has already explained to you how dangerous Tyler Banks is. I also believe you are aware of the countless crimes he is accused of ..." she eyed my belly, "I don't think you would want such a man near your child, would you?" Oh, if only she knew I've been asking myself the same question for hours.

"The man I met was Sebastian Woodthorne." I insisted boldly. "I don't know Tyler Banks in person and I don't have the certainty that he and Sebastian are the same man."

"And you will abide by that statement?" Agent Ferrera wondered. "Even in court?"

"You cannot subpoena her, Rachel," Dylan made his voice heard for the first time since I arrived, "there is no proof whatsoever that she's ever been anywhere near Tyler Banks."

I didn't miss the glare she sent him, nobody did. Hell, it seemed made to butcher him more than just kill him. "Yeah, you made sure of that, didn't you?" She spat through gritted teeth, losing her calmness for a bit longer and a bit more evidently now. Clenching her jaw, she grabbed her jacket. "Well, we'll see how things progress." Having said that, she left, her partner on tow. From the window, I saw the officers that had been outside leaving as well.

Adam exhaled loudly, dropping onto the couch. "Fuck, that was intense." I couldn't help but smile at his childishness.

"Are you sure you're alright, honey?" My mom wondered, coming to sit beside me.

"I'm okay, mom." I smiled at her, caressing her hand. "But I could use a cup of tea ..." I didn't, really, but I wanted to remain alone with Dylan without my parents. Luckily, she got it immediately, so she brought my dad with her to the kitchen. I sent Adam a significant look, but he merely scoffed, dismissing me.

"So, you really just talked?" He asked, confused as ever. "But when you were at the door, you-"

"Did he shoot you?" I asked, turning to Dylan, ignoring Adam for a moment. I stood up, needing to see him better with my eyes, since he hadn't sat down for a moment and looked kind of stiff. "He said he shot you and that you were in hospital."

Dylan smiled lightly. "Who said that? The same Tyler Banks you've never met?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry, I ... I wasn't sure."

"I'm lucky we got divorced, otherwise you'd have costed me a very uncomfortable night on the couch tonight." He walked over to the sofa where Adam was sitting, but still remained standing.

"Wait," Adam gasped, "you mean ..."

"Rachel-that is, Agent Ferrera and I were married for less than a year. It was a long time ago."

"Is that why you can play her like a violin?" My friend smirked.

"Adam ..."

"What? You saw how she was ready to skin him alive. Only an angry ex-wife would."

When Dylan took a few more steps to get next to the fireplace, I noticed a limp in his walk – a Dr. House kind of limp, like he could still walk without a cane but not completely. "What happened?"

"Ah, you know, she was fresh out of Quantico, I was fresh out of the Academy, we worked on a case together and-"

"No, I mean what happened to your leg." I pointed at it.

"You said it, he shot me."

"On the leg?" Adam asked for me.

Dylan shrugged. "We weren't even that far from each other. Either a shitty aim or a highly precise one. I haven't decided yet." That reminded me of Sebastian's words: if I wanted to kill him, he'd be 6-feet-underground, not laid back in hospital. So, it definitely was the second option – a highly precise aim.

"But what exactly happened?" I insisted, needing to know.

"I should ask you that." Dylan frowned, leaning against the wall, looking actually tired. For a moment, he even let a pained expression seep through his normally calm features.

"Are you okay?"

"I got shot in the leg three days ago, Vivian," Dylan gave out a short laugh, "I wouldn't say I'm perfectly fine, but I'm not doing too bad either." He eyed me carefully. "And I'm starting to think it was thanks to you."

"I didn't know-"

"What did I tell you? Men like Tyler Banks tend to get obsessed over their women."

"If he was obsessed with her, he'd have killed you," Adam butted in, "I mean, come on, guys, just get a room already. The tension here is insane."

"Adam ..."

"What?" He shrugged theatrically. "You wanna tell me he came all the way here from New York just because he's a concerned dutiful cop? You know that most cops in New York wouldn't chase a shoplifter through 2 blocks in Brooklyn, imagine crossing the whole country." He looked at Dylan for a moment. "No offense."

"None taken." Dylan shook his head, lightly chuckling. "But for what it's worth, yes, I am particularly invested in this story."

"I knew it."

"But it's not because I want ..." I would have sworn he blushed a bit, then cleared his throat. "I'm only doing my job."

Adam scoffed, but I sent him a dirty look and he shut up, albeit disgruntled. He seemed stuck believing there was something going on between me and Dylan. I'd have to be truly crazy to start a new relationship now of all times possible.

The truth is, even if I did accept Sebastian's offer, it wouldn't really be a relationship. I would basically trade my life for my child's safety. Would that be insane? Mothers do that all the time, putting their children first. There's no doubt that having a powerful dad would protect the kid. I guess if I had to renounce to my love life for him, it would make sense.

"Thank you." I smiled at Dylan. "I'm guessing Mr. Sulky there called you?" I hinted at Adam, who was now scrolling through his phone. I didn't understand why he was so mad all of a sudden, as if he didn't know the situation between me and his brother, not to mention the whole Sebastian drama. How could he think I'd fall into Dylan's arms just like that, I couldn't even fathom it.

Adam scoffed, standing up. "I definitely didn't call him." Having said that, he left the room. I'd have sworn I heard him yell at someone on the phone on his way out.

"So, if Adam didn't call you, how ..."

"Sixth sense?" Dylan joked, smiling kindly. Then he shook his head. "My partner told me she overheard our captain say Tyler Banks had left New York. I couldn't, technically, mention your name since ... well, you know ..."

"I'm not on any record, yeah, I know." I smiled gratefully. "Thanks for that, by the way. It would have made everything a lot more complicated."

"Yeah, well, since officially you're not involved, I couldn't get permission to come here as law enforcement, but it's obvious that once I heard he left the city, I was sure he'd come for you."

"He might have just skipped the country."

"Nah," Dylan shook his head, "I mean, sure, he might have ... but not before trying to take you with him." He eyed me carefully. "Because that's what you really talked about, isn't it? He wants you with him."

Sighing, I dropped against the wall beside him. "Says the baby and I would be much safer with him than without him."

"Said every psychopath ever."

"You don't believe him?"

"As a cop, I don't usually believe anything that comes out of a criminal's mouth." Before I could reply, Dylan added: "But ... I don't think his intentions are malevolent."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I believe he truly has feelings for you." Dylan pursed his lips, as if not wanting to admit those things but doing it for the sake of honesty. "I studied his file, his late girlfriend was ... the period they spent together, his criminal activity decreased, even almost vanished."

"He said the contrary." I frowned. "He said she wanted him to stop but he couldn't."

Dylan shook his head. "There might be gaps in police information, of course, but I ... well, since my ex-wife is involved in this case ..." he grinned cheekily, "I was able to peek FBI files on him."

"Bad, bad ex-husband." I joked, playfully elbowing him in the stomach. Ok, I guess I could see why Adam would think there was something between us. Dylan and I became friends over time. And I know that I don't have a great record when it comes to male friendships, but I truly didn't see Dylan as anything other than a kind cop that took interest in my case and possibly a friend with whom a few years from now I could grab a beer or two to laugh about this insanity. Granted that I reject Sebastian's offer, that is, which was still up for debate.

Dylan shrugged. "We all do what we must." He smiled. "The point is, because I could cross-reference police  and FBI intel on him, I could tell the timelapse he spent with her coincided with a decrease in his criminal activity."

"You think she almost veered him onto a more legal route, then ..."

"I think he may not want to see it that way, but her influence on him was a lot stronger than he'd like to admit." Dylan confirmed my ideas. "However ... her death was like a trigger. Whatever improvement he may have made with her, losing her sent him down a dangerous spiral."

"He became a ... top dog, though." I mused, the words feeling unfamiliar and silly to my own ears. "I mean, her death may have pushed him back into the abyss, but he reemerged a victor, so to speak."

Dylan shook his head. "He was already a top dog, as you say. That's why the attempt on his life."

I pursed my lips, trying to wrap my head around this new info. "So, it was like ... Michael with Mary, only the opposite."

"What?"

"The Godfather." I said, as if that was supposed to be self-explanatory, but Dylan seemed just as confused as before. "In the third movie, Michael tries hard to get out of the criminal business, but they keep pulling him back in. Eventually he leaves, but then his daughter Mary takes a bullet that was meant for him and he kind of ... pretty much goes crazy. Only he still doesn't get back into the business because the reins of the family are in Vincent's hands." I paused, thinking about my comparison. "In this case, it was the opposite. Lola's death pushed Seb-I mean ... Tyler back into his criminal business."

Dylan seemed to ponder for a moment, as if needing to process my words. Then, eventually, he smiled. "That's quite the romantic spin on this."

"Well, you said it, she almost pushed him onto a more legal course."

"Emphasis on almost." Dylan commented. "There's no saying what he was up to, maybe he was just laying low or maybe FBI wasn't able to connect anything to him. I mean, this guy is smart, he even managed to get fully acquitted a few days ago and no one understands how."

I frowned, confused. "He was on trial?"

"Yeah, but he was acquitted on every single charge. Both FBI and NYPD are still wondering how that was possible. Like, did he threaten the jurors one by one? Did he bribe the judge?" Dylan shook his head. "My point is, you don't know the depths of his affairs, Vivian. Nobody does. Probably not even his most trusted handyman does."

"You think I'm insane for even thinking about going with him." I smiled a bit sarcastically, because I knew I was crazy for considering the option.

"I think ... you're about to make a decision based on anything and anyone except yourself."

Startled, I looked at him quizzically. "What?"

He hinted at my belly. "You're thinking about the child. Should he have a father? Will he be safer with his biological dad? And you're thinking about everyone else. If you reject him, will he go after your friends and family? Will you ever be free of him if you say no? Isn't it easier to just say yes and let him protect you from evils that he himself attracted to you in the first place?"

I was flabbergasted. Only Chris had ever been able to read through me like that, understand my thought process, the emotions that guided it and the indecision behind it. "How ... I mean, I haven't told anyone, how ..."

Dylan shrugged, offering me his usual gentle smile. "Even though my mom thinks I'd be better off as a dentist and everyone else thinks I'll never be as good as my dad, I'm not that much of a lousy detective, you know." He chuckled.

"But that wasn't a cop's instinct. That was more like ... Sherlock Holmes level of deduction." I chuckled, feeling a bit more relaxed. I guess talking to someone you don't have to lie to for their own safety does make things easier.

"You're right, I'm actually a stalker and I followed you all the way here from New York because I was sure you'd be vulnerable." He said, barely able to keep a straight face.

I laughed almost immediately. "Really, Detective Powell, given the current situation, you think that's an appropriate joke?" We both laughed, but when we sobered up, I smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks, though. For your support and ... everything."

"I should thank you." He turned his whole body to me. "I'm pretty sure I'm still alive only because you wouldn't have forgiven him."

My smile faded a bit. "He asked me if ..." I could feel my cheeks a bit red, "if you and I ..."

"Yeah, I know, I've heard the same question many times. My partner, my ex-wife, my captain ... everyone keeps asking me if I'm so invested in this case because I made the worst mistake a detective could ever make. Falling in love with a victim."

I would have sworn his light brown eyes sparkled, but it was probably the confusion of the moment. Not to mention the fact that I felt sleepy, the past few hours were exhausting. "I don't feel like a victim."

"But you are. You were thrown into this mess without the slightest clue."

"I got myself into this trouble." I shook my head. "I hooked up with the first guy that seemed decent, even though I kind of suspected there was something wrong with him." The fact that he never wanted to talk about his job, or the fact that it took me a long time to get a full name. I stupidly thought this was some fairy tale where he was prince charming in disguise, while I should have remembered all the crime shows and movies I watched. Note to self: if he seems too good to be true, there's a high chance he's a psycho.

"So what, you fell in bed with the wrong guy," Dylan scoffed, "that has happened to 90% of women. It's not your fault. You had no idea who he was."

I cracked a small bittersweet smile. "Someone would say it was a slutty move." I mused, thinking about Chris' words the last time we spoke. My Vivy wouldn't sleep around, he said. He was half right. His Vivian would never hook up with a random guy without thinking about the consequences. I did it for the first time, and look what happened.

Dylan gave me a baffled look. "Slutty? Who would say such a thing?"

"It doesn't matter," I shook my head, feeling a dire need to sleep, "he's not in my life anymore."

"Ah ... ex-boyfriend that didn't take the breakup too well?" Dylan joked. "I mean, another ex."

I smiled a bit. "Why did you and Agent Ferrera separate?"

"She was ambitious, I wasn't ambitious enough." He shrugged. "I'm a simple guy, I like my job and I'm not interested in a career advancement. She aims high – first female director of the FBI kind of high. I would have been a deadweight."

"Lovely."

"The way I see it, relationships are 50/50. There's you and there's them. The moment there's an imbalance, whether it's in your favor or theirs, it doesn't matter, it's a sign something went wrong. The choice is to either correct the course or keep on hoping the discrepancy won't become toxic co-dependency."

"You chose the first one."

"Oh, no, I chose the latter." He chuckled to himself. "Rachel, like the pragmatic woman she is, chose to end it. We were barely 23, I was a pathetic lovesick mess at the time, I'd have let her walk over me like nothing. Thankfully, as cold as she might seem, she's not cruel."

"But you two are still in touch ... why?"

"We're not." He shook his head. "I merely bumped into her when she was sent to get the files NYPD had on Tyler Banks. Until then, I didn't even know she was on the case."

Those words confused me and at the same time reminded me that both Rachel and her partner looked very familiar. I couldn't remember where, but I was sure I'd seen them somewhere else. When I thought they were detectives, I thought I'd seen them around town without really paying attention, but since they were FBI ... "How did Rachel know I was here? You called her?"

"She followed me." Dylan rolled his eyes. "Said she was sure I'd do something stupid like coming to you first thing and she assumed Tyler would do the same. She's pretty good at her job."

"So, when Adam called the cops, she and her partner just showed up?"

"Pretty much." Why did I feel like there was something more to it? "Why?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, half smiling. Checking around, I saw we were still alone. "I guess my mom thought we'd need some privacy." I chuckled to myself, noticing the tea on the coffee table.

"She came in a moment ago." Dylan smiled. "I saw her for a moment, then she disappeared." His light brown eyes truly sparkled this time as he looked into mine. "You think she, like Adam, believes there's something between us?"

I shrugged. "My mom is a romantic soul, and I guess that, according to her, given the circumstances, for her daughter there would be no safer arms than a cop's, right?" I laughed at my own joke.

Dylan didn't laugh, though, instead he gave me a coy smile. "In all honesty, Vivian, if I was more of a rule-breaker, I'd have already kissed you." Oh. I definitely did not expect that.

"Why am I not surprised?" A male voice came from the entrance of the living room. "It's what you do now, isn't it? Jumping from one bed to another."

Shocked and appalled, I turned to the source of those accusations. "Chris." I called, unable to believe my own eyes. Was I hallucinating?