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“I do,” I responded, narrowing my eyes on Raphael James.
He was wearing a suit that looked at least three days old, rumpled, though not bloodied.
Something I hoped to rectify soon.
Isaac looked at Raphael, a dispassionate expression on his face. Then, he turned to Elias and me.
“Other than the five corpses over there, no other member of the Sargsyan family had anything to do with your recent troubles,” Isaac said.
I sensed there was something else though, so I said, “But?”
“But you might want to have a talk with Seamus Roy.”
Elias gave a humorless chuckle. “Indeed we might.”
Isaac shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s all I have for you.”
“Thank you, Isaac. Be assured that the Petrosyan family appreciates the thoughtful gift and will remember it,” Elias said.
“It was good to see you again, Isaac,” I said, though I hadn’t taken my eyes off Raphael.
“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” Isaac said.
Then, he and his guard left.
I kept my gaze on Raphael, disgust, excitement, all of it torpedoing through me like a hurricane.
For the first and only time I’d ever seen, Raphael James looked afraid. There was no hint of smugness, no silent superiority. Instead, his fear dripped off him.
“Davit, you know I would never have hurt them,” he said.
I smiled. “Of course not. You care about them so much, right?” I said, my voice brimming with malice, so much so that Raphael shrank back.
But he recovered quickly, which didn’t surprise me. He wasn’t one to give up. Not even when he knew it was over.
“I saw an opportunity. I had to take it,” he said quickly.
“An opportunity? That’s how you think of your daughter and your granddaughter?”
“No! I didn’t mean it like that. I still love Amy like—”
“Like she was your own?” a voice said. “Is that what you were about to say, Raphael? That you love her like she’s your own. Even though you lied to her? Tried to make her believe she wasn’t?”
Raphael froze then looked toward the sound of the woman’s voice.
“What the fuck?” he whispered, disbelief clear on his face.
“Answer, Raphael. Is that what you were going to say?” she said as she walked closer.
“This can’t be,” Rafael whispered, even lower this time, though his panic was rising.
“Or would you rather talk about what you told me? Talk about the vows you broke?” she asked, getting closer.
She came to a stop not more than two feet away from Raphael.
“Honey, you’re not happy to see me?” she asked, her voice light, playful.
And utterly chilling.
