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“That would be Clair,” I said.
“Right.” He took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Fuck, Luca. This is so much worse than I could’ve imagined.”
“I know. I thought that safe house was the last of them, but they keep springing up again like mold.”
“For now, lay low here. We’ll watch over Clair until the Don gets in contact.”
“You’re going to be in the crosshairs then,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve got the guys coming here. We’ll watch the place in shifts. Make sure Colleen’s safe, too.”
“How could the Jalisco pull this off?”
Steven shook his head, slow and sad. He sipped his whiskey, then stared at it, then threw the rest back. He put the glass down, let it rattle, watched until it came to a stop.
“We’ve been strong,” he said. “Too strong. Alliance with the Russians made us go soft. Maybe we needed something like this to shake things up.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“We got complacent. But we won’t be complacent anymore.”
I nodded, staring at the table top.
I kept thinking about Clair back in the house, screaming for her mother, trying to run to her. I kept thinking about the Jalisco guy, knocking her mother to the ground. The poor woman never wanted any of this, just wanted to be left alone at her own house. And now she was in Jalisco hands, despite trying our best to keep her safe and out of harm’s way.
“We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow,” I said, voice low. “But things are going to get bloody. You know that, right?”
“I know it,” he said, his face serious.
“All right.” I stood up. “I should make sure Clair’s okay.”
“You do that. I’ve got more calls to make.”
“Thanks, Steven.”
“Yeah, brother.” He nodded at me. “You’d do the same, if you were me.”
“Sure would.” I walked around the table, back to the steps, took them slow.
Clair was still at the window when I walked into the room. She half turned to me, opened her mouth like she had a question, but nothing came out. I could see the fear, the anguish in her expression. I went to her, took her hand, and pulled her to the bed. I made her get under the covers, made her lie down. I turned off the light, got in behind her, pulled her body against mine.
She felt warm and small, so damn small.
I kept thinking about her fear, her screams. About the bullets in the air, bursting into the wall, the shrapnel hitting my face, scratching it up.
I would do anything for her, I realized. I’d kill anyone for her, go as far as I needed to go just to make sure she was okay. And now that they had her mother, I knew this wouldn’t stop until they were all dead, and I was standing over their bodies.
Clair hated killing, hated that I could be a monster.
But she needed a monster now more than ever.
I didn’t want her to look at me like that, with fear in her eyes, fear and loathing. I was afraid if I let myself loose, she wouldn’t be able to see anything else.
There was no other choice, though.21ClairI woke up in a strange bed, sheets tangled around my legs, sweat on my skin. I took a gasping breath like I was surfacing from underwater and sat straight up, staring around the bland room, at the closet door on the far wall, at the floral-patterned comforter balled up at my feet.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
I rubbed at my face as a pretty red-haired woman stood at the far corner of the room holding a tray in her hands. There was some toast, some butter, and a steaming mug of coffee on it, and she looked like she was about it set it down on top of the bureau.
“Oh,” I said, trying to shake sleep from my skull. My ears were still ringing.
“My name’s Colleen,” she said. “I’m with Steven.”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Clair.”
“I’ve heard all about you, Clair.” She smiled, straight teeth, pretty lips, big green eyes. She wore a loose Metallica t-shirt and a pair of black jeans.
“Where’s Luca?”
“Downstairs,” she said. “The boys are plotting.” She hesitated then sat the end of the bed. “I know you’re going through something right now, so I won’t pretend like I can help. But if you want coffee and some toast, here it is.”
I leaned forward as she put the tray down on the bed. I took the mug and sipped it.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Being with Steven’s taught me a lot,” she said. “About trauma. About dealing with fucked-up things.”
“You ever see your mom get kidnapped by a bunch of killers?” I asked, my voice sharp. I felt bad as soon as the words left my lips.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “But my uncle did kidnap my father. Hurt him bad, too. I did some things to get my father back, and I just… I know what you’re going through. To some extent, anyway.”
