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“Did Santos send you to bring me back?” I ask, knowing he didn’t—knowing the fact that Caius is here and Santos is not is a very, very bad thing.
He smiles at me, shifts his gaze over my shoulder and reaches around me to pick up that photograph. He holds it between us, looks at it. I watch his face, his expression, and I see how it darkens. When he meets my eyes again, I swallow hard.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your sister.”
One corner of his mouth lifts, and my blood turns to ice.
He studies me, looking more than anything else, sad. Miserable even. He shakes his head. “No, he didn’t,” he says, and I’m momentarily confused. “Santos didn’t send me,” he clarifies, setting the photo down, ignoring the comment about his sister altogether. “Where are your clothes?” he asks, looking around. He finds the duffel bag without me having to point it out and goes to take out some clothes, jeans, another sweater, although when he sees I’m wearing a sweater, he shoves it back into the bag and returns to me.
“Put these on. It’s fucking freezing here. Worse than Suicide Rock,” he says, holding the jeans out to me.
I take the jeans. “There are soldiers downstairs.” I don’t tell him how many.
“Like I said, out cold. Let’s go. Sun’s coming up.”
“Where?”
“A walk. On the beach. We’ll get some fresh air. Watch the new day begin. It’s good for the baby,” he adds.
“We should call Santos,” I start, licking my lips, my throat dry.
“Sure,” he says, producing his phone. “Except no cell service. What kind of town has no cell service?”
I’m about to suggest going to the rectory, but then I think about Father Michael. I’d be putting him in danger if we did that. If Caius even took me there to make the call, that is. I can’t risk his life because Caius is here to do damage. Tonight he’ll prove just how dangerous he is.
“Give me a minute. I’ll get changed and be right out,” I tell him.
He smiles, sits on the bed. “Just slip them on here.”
“It’ll just—”
“I said do it here.”
I pull on the jeans. Once they’re on, he stands and takes my hand. When I try to slip free, he tightens his grip.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
We walk down the stairs where the lights are on. I gasp when I see what’s in the living room. The thud I heard, I realize, wasn’t someone walking into furniture. It was a body. Val’s.
“Oh my God.”
He’s leaning against the wall like he’s sitting there except that his head has flopped forward. In his stomach is a hole through which he bled out. His hands are cupped around a knife on his lap. He must have pulled it out. Not that it mattered much.
“Fucking goon.” Caius shakes his head.
And the other man, the one on the couch. He hasn’t moved. Well, that’s not true. He’s been moved and I see now the stain of the dark red that has spread like a circle on the floral print couch.
“What did you do?” I cover my mouth.
“Don’t get sick on me now, Mama. Besides, it’s nothing compared to what my brother has done, and you’ve happily crawled into his bed. Come, Madelena.” Caius tugs me toward him. “Put on your boots.”
“Caius. Oh God…”
He pushes me down onto the bench and hands me a boot. I take it, and he gestures for me to put it on. I do. He hands me the other one. I notice the gun tucked into the back of his pants, seeing the handle of it around his side. I shift my gaze to the two dead soldiers, then up to his to find him watching me. He didn’t need a gun to do what he did to those two, trained, armed men. He certainly doesn’t need one to do the same to me.
“Caius? What’s happening?”
