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Allegra and Trevor spent most of their time on the couch, side by side, staring at the television. Though she tried to concentrate on the plot of the movie playing, she couldn’t. Trevor, she was glad to see, laughed in all the right places. Somehow, he was able to relax. The resiliency of teenagers. She prayed that when this was over—when she somehow found a way out of this—he’d have no lasting damage to his psyche.
A knock at the door sent her heart leaping in her chest. Dex immediately reached for the gun in his waistband as he rose from his seat to see who was there. She grasped Trevor’s hand, silently reminding him to remain still, to stay quiet.
Not that he needed any warning.
The bruise on his cheek from where Dex had struck him with the journal was fading, yellowing at the edges. Trying not to let her attention catch on it, she watched as Dex crossed the room, looked out the peephole, opened the door. After Frank walked in, Dex checked the street in both directions. Satisfied no one was out there watching, he closed and locked the door. “About time.”
The broad-shouldered man’s right arm still bandaged and in a sling. Apparently, he’d been shot in a gun battle with the Fargos. A shame they’d missed, she thought as he scrutinized them. “Still here?” he said to her.
She ignored him, kept staring at the television. Trevor did the same.
“You want a beer?” Dex asked him.
“And something to eat.”
Dex looked over at Allegra, then cocked his head in the direction of the kitchen.
She immediately rose. “I’ll make us lunch. Come help me, Trev.” When Dex looked as though he was about to object, she said, “Where’s he going to go?”
“Go on,” Dex said.
Trevor followed her. While he got the bread, jam, and butter out, she opened a bottle of beer for Frank and an ale for Dex. “If he let’s down his guard,” she whispered, “you get out.”
“I’m not leaving you, Mum.”
“You are—”
“What’re you two talking about in there?” Dex yelled.
Allegra mouthed, “Quiet,” then took the bottles out to Dex and Frank. “Trying to find something to eat. Is bread and jam and butter okay?”
Frank, who’d sprawled himself on the couch, put his feet up on her coffee table. “If that’s all you have . . .”
Dex grabbed the ale from her hand. “Make cheese sandwiches.”
“We’re out of cheese.”
“Jam’s fine,” Frank said.
“Not for me,” Dex said. He wasn’t a fan of sweets. “What else do we have?”
“Nothing. Nothing for dinner. Or breakfast. I wasn’t expecting Frank back so soon.”
“Blimey, Dex. You starving them on purpose? Send one of them to the store.”
“I don’t trust them.”
“I’d offer to go for you, but the arm . . .” He pulled at the white sling.
Dex took a long swig of his beer. “Looks like we’ll starve.”
“You could always go,” Allegra said to Dex.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Frank’s here,” she pointed out. “He can stay with us.”
