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“His name is”—sniff—“Hawk.”
Don’t cry until I’m out of earshot, Kitten. My heart can’t take any more torment.
People crying had never affected me before. I had heard dozens of men whimper in front of me. They cried out in pain, sobbed like children, and wailed while begging for their lives. I felt nothing for those men. I felt nothing in those moments except cold darkness.
But one tiny sniff from Lila and guilt ripped through my gut, punishing me. Whatever pain she felt, I was feeling it a hundred times over.
“Are you running away from the fuzz or from my Lila?”
“I’m not running away.” I never ran from anything. Ever. I whirled around with clenched fists.
Lila cried on Nana’s shoulder.
“I lied, kid,” Nana said in a gentler tone. “I never called them. I trust my bat more than I trust the fuzz.”
What the hell did she want from me? Why wouldn’t she let me leave in peace? “I’m leaving, not running away.”
“Sure. Sure. Tell yourself whatever lies you want.” She patted Lila’s back. “I don’t like seeing my granddaughter hurt, kid. You better get your ass in here and make it up to her.”
“The best thing for her,” I said harshly, “is for me to leave.”
“Ha! Typical man. Her grandfather tried that bullshit with me too. I wouldn’t let him, of course. The women in our family have minds of their own. We decide what’s good for us. Not you.” She ushered Lila inside. “Don’t make me ask twice, kid.”
I stared at the empty doorframe, listening to Nana’s and Lila’s footsteps shuffle across the apartment. What the hell was happening? Why was she inviting an armed stranger inside? Maybe she was senile.
Lila would be fine with her, so I decided to leave.
But my feet wouldn’t listen. Instead of heading toward the stairs, I found myself in Lila’s apartment.
From the red couch in the living room on my right, Lila dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue while Nana went to the kitchen on my left and searched through the cabinets.
I lingered at the entrance. I thought about closing the door but changed my mind. They’d probably feel safer if I left it open.
“Close the damn door, kid. You want the entire floor to hear about our private business?”
“Err…okay.” With a finger on the door, I nudged it close and avoided touching the lock so they wouldn’t think I’d lock them inside with me. A killer.
“Nana, stop this,” Lila said, her voice somber. “You can’t force him to stay. He doesn’t want to see”—sniff—“me again. It’s fine.”
Nothing about any of this was fine.
“Gingerbread, you don’t know anything about men,” she cooed sweetly. “If he didn’t like you and if he didn’t want anything to do with you, he wouldn’t be here right now.”
Err…
“He’s only here because you basically threatened him.”
“Sweetpea, a man like that doesn’t let anybody threaten him.”
“Well, then he’s being respectful to you because you’re a senior citizen.”
“Caramel, the only thing men like him respect is power. And at my age, I don’t have a shred of it left. I nearly dropped my damn bat when I swung at him.” She opened another cabinet. “Aha! There you are.”
Nana took out three mugs and set them on the counter. “Now, where’s the kettle?”
“Left of the fridge,” Lila mumbled.
“Ah, yes, next to the charger for the taser gun. Found it.”
