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“You rescued us.” None of this make sense. “Besides, they all know… They all know…” I can’t say it, can’t speak the words, about how much this means to me, but Momma knows. This is my chance to make it up to Hope. For letting her die.
For letting Hope die in my place.
“Don’t take it personally. Many of my children have tragic pasts. A broken mind is a mind in turmoil. You can’t excise all those demons. Take for example, your brother—”
“Tony? Never.”
“He is angry, Justice. He accused The Guild of reverse sexism. He believes we don’t value him or his opinion.”
“He said that? When do I not listen to him?”
Momma tilts her head toward me, a gesture that reminds me that I’d ignored his advice during our recon.
I don’t reply, because that was different. “What about the others? You can’t think Bridget would? She’s practically a saint.”
Momma’s patient brown eyes stay locked on me. I can almost see her survey the texture of the words before she speaks. Momma is careful like that. “Being a Buddhist doesn’t make you a saint. If anything, her recent foray into pacifism might lead her to try to thwart our more aggressive goals.”
Impossible. Bridget didn’t even put up a fight when I asked her to stop chanting during yoga. “And Gracie? She runs the underground rail—”
“She’s still angry about John—”
“Dada’s doing recon—”
“No one from your unit can be ruled out.”
No one? What the hell? “So… what? I have to replan this entire mission in a few days and keep it secret from my four closest siblings?”
“I have all the information you need. The false identities the Brothers are using. Where they are staying. The layout of their hotel suite and a tentative plan waiting your approval. Including a PR convention in Houston your siblings will think you’re attending.”
Ice needles prickle under my skin. She isn’t kidding.
“You’re wrong. My unit wouldn’t betray me. Us. The Guild. Isn’t it more likely that my fuc—uh, mess-up last week alerted the Brothers? Made them cautious?”
Momma shifts forward, meets my gaze for a long moment. “Perhaps. But are you willing to stake your life and the freedom of thousands of women on that?”
If it means betting on my siblings, I kind of am. But, no, I won’t do that. I can pull this off myself. It’s too important to risk. I have to stop anyone else from being hurt. And the Brothers Grim need to pay for Hope. And for Cee. And many others.
Exhaling every bit of unease and sadness and determination, I voice my final objection. “I feel bad about using Sandesh.”
“He needs money. We need a cover. It’s win-win.”
Sure, except for the part where Momma usurps his peace-loving purpose by secretly bending it to support her covert group of global vigilantes. Dammit.
“Send me the details.”
6
SANDESH
Inside the elevator, I press the lobby button and watch as the doors begin to slide closed. I’m replaying the opportunity of today when a sultry voice calls, “Hold the elevator.”
That sexy voice is unmistakable. I jump forward and slam the HOLD button.
Justice slides inside and her presence electrifies the air.
My heart, obviously deciding I need more blood flow, kicks into high gear.
God, she smells good. Her perfume is something soft and feminine, like a bath filled with milk and lavender.
