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“Tell me about it,” I say. He swings at me and I duck. I lift the knife above my head and stab him in the eye. For all the girls. For all the videos. Because I can.
He swings again, but his reflexes are not fast enough, thanks to the additive that Sophie slipped in his drink. “You’re evil,” he chokes out as I twist the blade.
“You’re right,” I say, and then I slide the knife out and slit his throat.
“An eye for an eye,” the weathered man tells me with a chuckle. “Leave it to you to take it to a whole new level.”
“Go fuck yourself.” He isn’t supposed to be in Switzerland, but he’s of the overbearing and protective variety, and it’s safe to say we haven’t gotten that part sorted out yet.
“Careful, dear. You’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you.”
&nbs
p; My stomach clinches. Henry used to say that.
In a way, Carlo is my new Henry, although Henry he could never be. It was him who had arranged for the hit on Michael. He didn’t have to meet me at the airport, but he did, which meant that I liked him right away, in that love-hate kind of way you do with a handler. Regardless, he is everything I need in my life right now.
“Basel is beautiful, yes?” he says to Sophie.
She kind of shrugs, and he looks at me. “Teenagers.”
“She’s just mad I wouldn’t let her keep the clothes.”
Carlo smiles. “Your mother is right. The clothes you cannot keep. They go with the job.”
Sophie stares at her fingernails, picking at a piece of chipped polish. “There will be more where that came from. Don’t worry.”
She looks up at me expectantly. “Can we go shopping now?”
“Basel is not the place for shopping,” Carlo says. “Wait until you get to Zurich.”
“Can I go look around?” she asks, pointing toward the door.
“No,” I say firmly. “In a minute, we will go.”
My phone chimes, and I check my messages. It’s a reminder from my assistant that it’s time to wire the monthly payment for Michael’s other children to their Nona, the lady who cares for them. I haven’t met them, and I don’t know that I will. Although, who knows? Maybe someday. “Mom?” Sophie whines. “Can I? Please.”
Carlo gives me the once-over. “She will be fine. Basel is safe. You have trained her well. I say let her go.”
“She is not ready yet.”
“You are the one who is not ready.”
“Yes,” I say. “I am the one who is not ready.”
“This is a problem, Olivia. If you hold on too tight.”
“It is equally a problem if you let go too soon.”
There is a roar of laughter in the corner of the cafe. “Your favor has been repaid,” Carlo remarks. “Ian Miller is dead. I can sleep at night.”
“That’s the problem with favors,” I say to him, every bit for Sophie’s benefit. “Eventually, you have to pay them back.”
“He killed my daughter,” he says to Sophie, who is both unaware and unconcerned by the fact that we seem to be talking circles around her. “She was younger than you are now.”
Snow has begun to fall in the street. I stare out at it for a long time and think of Michael. “You won’t sleep,” I say to Carlo.
He looks at me knowingly. “You are right. It is never enough.”
