I’m not sure how long I have before he remembers—maybeonly seconds—but crisp, cool logic settles over my brain as I climb the stairs.
Wolf’s a computer genius, just like I am. He can hack into any system I can break into. He can put up a security wall as strong as any I can build.
But I’m a princess of the Irish mob. I’ve grown up around men who don’t hesitate to break the law if they see any chance of personal advantage. I’ve watched my father kill for what he wants, and I’ve seen my mother help him.
I’m a Lynch from County Donegal.
Wolf won’t win. Not in the long run. Not once I’m somewhere safe, somewhere I can bring Granny, somewhere I can forget I ever let a man put a ring on my finger, put cuffs on my wrists and ankles, put the handle of a cat o’ nine tails up my?—
Wolf won’t win.
By the time I reach our bedroom, the stitches on my thigh throb like I’ve doused them in kerosene. I suck a deep breath past gritted teeth and exhale so long and low and slow I expect to see fog on the bedroom air.
I dig in my dresser for the plainest knickers Nilsson brought me. I find my one pair of jeans. A cashmere sweater. I retrieve my Doc Martens from the closet.
The world becomes a very simple place when you’re frozen. You don’t have to think of things to say. You don’t have to figure out whether to curse in English or in Irish. You don’t have to do anything butact.
I don’t bother collecting my laptop because I know Wolf can track me on it. I settle for grabbing my mobile instead. It’ll be useful until I replace it with an untraceable burner. I snatch my leather case, too, the one with my scalpels, and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans.
I take the keys out of Wolf’s pocket and leave the jacket, folded neatly, on top of the clothes I wore to the Andersons. Was that only last night? Drinking champagne out of juice glassesseems a million years ago. Pot roast and chocolate cobbler are lightyears away.
I don’t bother creeping down the stairs. It’s Monday morning, and Nilsson is somewhere in the house. I need to move fast, get to the garage before Wolf realizes I can escape.
From the foyer, I hear his voice. “This isn’t a good time, Nut. I’ll call you back. I can use this number?”
I’m out the front door before he’s negotiated a return call to his sister.
Everything works with the crystal precision of a metronome. The garage door opens. I slip behind the wheel. The engine turns over. The car rolls across the brick drive. Electronics speak to electronics, and the gate opens.
I come to a complete stop at the first intersection, obeying the bright red sign. I use my turn indicators. I navigate through Georgetown to a park on the edge of the Potomac River.
Pulling the Camry into a narrow parking space, I take out my mobile and call Da’s private number. “Can’t talk, Kaitlín,” he says, sounding rushed. “Your Mam and I are counting the milk run.”
Good. They’ve got their hands on the cash they bleed off every business in the Canton Crew territory. “I need your help, Da.”
“What kind of help?” He sounds wary.
“I need some dosh.”
“You’re a married woman. Ask Himself for pin money.”
“Not pin money, Da. I’m leaving Wolf.”
“You’re not leaving Wolf.” He sounds annoyed. Then his voice comes from a distance as he transfers the phone: “Orla. Tell your oldest daughter she’ll not walk out on her man.”
Mam’s voice is harsh in my ear. “Katie? Drop this foolishness this instant.”
I sigh. “I’m not being foolish, Mam. For the first time in weeks, I’m thinking straight.”
“Your father paid good money to get that ring on yourfinger. Your sister is finally meeting the type of men she deserves. If you think you can ruin her chances just by?—”
“Mam,” I say, loud enough to cut through her tirade. “He hurt me.”
Even as I speak, I picture the scar snaking above my mother’s lip. I know what she’ll say before the words are out of my mouth, but they feel like a slap, all the same. “A Lynch woman offers up her pain to the clan.” That’s my mother’s motto. But this time she goes further: “You refused to learn that as a child. Well, better late than never,a stór.”
I know Wolf’s Camry is perfectly clean, but the air inside the car is suddenly tainted with the stench of spoiling meat. I close my eyes against the memory, against the thought of everything the Bad Men did. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
And after I swallow, I’m ready to do battle. “I gave the Canton Crew all my money, Mam, every cent I earned with the Red Cap Raiders. Now I’m asking to be treated like any other member of the clan. I need my captain’s help.”
