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"That's great, baby," he said, making me want to find sarcasm there, but all I heard was sincerity.
"And I just... I am over it," I admitted, not knowing what was possessing me to share that. "I want all of this over so I can move on."
"And start a garden in Russia."
I sighed. "Why are we talking about this? Why are you even here?" I stopped then, my stomach dropping. No, seriously. Why was he here? How was he here? How did he know where to look for me? If he could find us so easily, then anyone else could, right? We were going to have to leave. I was going to need to leave my beloved garden and chicken baby.
"Scotti, relax," his voice reached me, sounding a strange mix of amused and reassuring.
"Relax?" I snapped, moving over to the fire and poking it to make the flames soar higher, warming my face to the point where I almost worried about my eyebrows. But my eyebrows could be damned. The evidence needed to disappear immediately. And I needed to pack. And call my brothers. I just... I couldn't let them come back for me though. That was too risky. I needed to call a cab, see if they were willing to come out this far. Then I needed to pack and clean. Normally it took four or more hours to clean, but I would have to do my best in under one.
"Scotti, fuck, what are you doing?" Mark asked, moving with me as I frantically ran to my room and started stuffing items into my bag.
"I have to pack. We have to go," I snapped, whipping past him to move into the bathroom.
His wide-palmed, work-calloused hand grabbed my arm just below the sleeve of the tee, curling tight, and yanking me to a stop. "Jesus, calm the fuck down. What do you mean you have to go? Five minutes ago, you were reading a gardening book."
"Five minutes ago someone didn't show up out of nowhere, knowing exactly where to find us. I think you don't fully grasp the meaning of a 'safe house.'"
"Scotti, the only reason I found you is because the news report gave the county and I knew that my parents crashed in a cabin up here once back before any of us came along when they were worried about the law sniffing around them. I think the only people who know this place exists are those who have stayed here."
Okay.
Maybe that made me feel mildly better.
But I wasn't convinced either.
"I have never seen a criminal as fucking paranoid as you are. And trust me, honey, I know a lot of damn criminals."
"Yeah, but most criminals operate under the eye of the law, keep a low profile. We have a lot of fanfare involved in our job. Every time we do it, we draw attention."
"I know a guy who is a sniper. His jobs routinely make the news."
"Sure, but the word sniper implies that it is done from far away and that no one sees him."
"Alright then. Well, I know contract muscle, arms-dealing bikers, Italian mob, a lawless military..."
"What point are you trying to make here, Mark?"
"That your only option in the world isn't to run. You could lay low for a while, make sure all blows over, then build a life here. As Scotti, not Angela or whatever other names you go by. I'm assuming your legal record is clear. As are your brothers."
"I was eighteen when we started," I said with a smile. "Before that, I had a mother and four over-protective brothers. I couldn't skip homework without getting someone on my ass. Let alone sneak out or drink underage."
"So, why not give it a thought?" he offered. "Maybe if you sat and hashed it out after all this time, you might see it's possible to stay. Hell, you could even crash here if you wanted until it all blew over. Why not think about it?"
I didn't want to get my hopes up, that was why.
I didn't want to start getting ideas, start making plans, only to realize at some point that I would have to scrap them all and start again.
But then again, he was right.
My brothers and I concocted the plan a decade ago and had just... pursued it since then. The targets were all planned. The towns we stayed in after were all planned. The budget was mapped out. And the end game had always been the same.
Maybe they had doubts as well. Maybe they had wishes to stay. Maybe they knew a way that we could go about doing it.
"Just think about it, yeah?" he asked, ducking his head low, catching my eyes.
"Why are you pushing this so hard?" I asked, needing to know his motives. Well, actually, maybe a part of me was really hoping he was as messed up about the separation as I was, no matter how ridiculous it may have been.
