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She’s quiet for a moment, then she says, “By any means necessary, honey.”
She ends the call without waiting for me to reply. I stare at my booted feet on the light-colored floor, trying to figure out what this new information means for my girl now.
Me: Answer your phone next time, asshole
My phone vibrates in my palm, the familiar photo of my brother’s face lighting up the screen. I grunt and send it to voicemail, opening up our text thread instead.
Me: I’m busy. Call back the recent unknown number. It’s Ma.
I stare at my phone for a full minute, but he doesn’t text me back or call me again. I assume he’s already on the phone.
I stroll back into the workspace. “Saved by the bell, Richard.”
“You’re going to let me go?” he asks, hope making his voice high.
“I thought about doing it here, you know. There’s something . . . poetic about the way blood splatters. There’s no careful precision behind it, no practiced brushstrokes or angles. It’s pure instinct. I could do a whole series. I’d call it Hounds and Savages.” I chuckle a little, shaking my head at my own pun and pulling myself away from my vision.
A glance at Richard and I notice he’s not laughing. If anything, his complexion is paler than it was.
“But then I remembered that my girl likes it in here, and I think she might have some moral objection to riding my face in the same space where you took your last breath, yeah? See, she’s just and moral and so fucking beautiful it makes your teeth ache.” I shake my head as the image of her beautiful face flashes before my eyes as clear as if she was standing in front of me.
“I-I?—”
I pivot to face him now, feeling a little crazed. “Have you ever had that, Richard? That kind of instant connection with someone that snowballs into something so magnificent that you’ll do anything to protect it?”
“W-why are you telling me this?”
“Just making conversation, man. But if you want to skip this part and go right into the?—”
“No, no, talking is good. I love talking,” he says quickly, a slow smile spreading across his face.
I smile. “So tell me, where the fuck is my girl, Richard?”
His smile falls and he looks around the room like the answer is going to pop out at him. “Your girl?”
“Yeah, see, that was my mother on the phone. Turns out, she made it out of the house with my nephew. But my girl?” I step toward him, angling the knife so it presses on the soft tissue between his ribs. “My girl wasn’t with them. Which means you haven’t been truthful with me, Richard.”
“I swear I didn’t take anyone from the house,” he says, tripping over his words.
“Well, of course you didn’t—you’re here. I need a name.”
“But I-I don’t know who took her. They didn’t tell me they were taking anyone. It was supposed to be a scare tactic, that’s what our president agreed to. But I don’t know what Masters told his guys. They seemed . . . I don’t know, fucked-up or something.”
I cock my head to the side. “Fucked-up how?”
“I don’t know, like maybe they were rolling or they were just amped up for violence. Shit’s contagious, you know? One thing led to another, and pretty soon, Masters had convinced everyone the only move was to take out your house.”
“And my girl? You plucked her from my house like she’s a wildflower in a field. When none of you deserve to even breathe the same air as her, let alone touch her.”
“I-I don’t know anything about that. I swear.”
I nod, tapping my phone against my thigh. I open my contacts and scroll to the one saved for our cleanup crew. “Alright Richard. I believe you.”
9
BANE
Maple Leaf Diner is exactly how I remember. Straddling Rosewood’s city line, it’s right on the cusp of our protection. Thankfully, the other side of the line is the start of neutral territory. Considering how it went down with Three Crowns Tavern in Silverstone, that’s not as reassuring as it used to be.
