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Fiona takes her switchblade away from my ribs. She makes a face. “As sexy as you are, hot stuff, I’d prefer not to bear all of your weight on my stomach.”
“Shit.” I roll off her and scoot backwards until my spine collides with a chair.
Fiona (or Jessica or whatever her name is) coughs and slowly climbs to a sitting position. She slides across the floor until she’s facing me directly.
“If you have more questions,” she says, “ask them.”
“Who was Fiona Carney?”
She shuts her eyes and sighs before answering. “A friend. Sweet girl. I was on the run for the fourth time in as many years after yet another city and another name didn’t work out. I landed in Vegas with ten bucks in my pocket. Fiona let me crash with her even though she lived in a tiny basement studio and didn’t have two nickels to rub together after her pimp of a boyfriend cleaned her out. He kept threatening her, stalking her, always hanging around, following a few paces behind wherever she went just to remind her that he was watching her every move. Then she disappeared. One night she left her shift at a casino on the strip and was never seen again. The damn cops said she just skipped town but she wouldn’t have left all of her stuff behind. She didn’t even take her passport or the wad of cash in her sock drawer. They didn’t bother to question the ex boyfriend too carefully either. He must have congratulated himself, thinking he’d gotten away with it.” Her trip down memory lane inspires a bleak smile. “Imagine his surprise when his throat was sliced ear to ear just before dawn as he staggered home drunk.”
“You killed him?” I can’t say that I disapprove.
“I avengedher. And then I came here, to Emerald City. Where I met you and found a new kind of family here in the club. For the first time, I felt like I was where I belonged. I have you to thank for that. You’re family to me, Haven.”
“Tell me about Jessica Roswell.”
She sighs. “Jessica was a sad girl who had terrible things done to her and had to do some terrible things to survive. If you need to know more then I’ll tell you. There aren’t many people whose opinions I care about but I care very much about yours.”
While mulling this over, I look into the eyes of my friend.
She stares back at me.
No, I don’t need her to share every hideously painful piece of her past.
“What do I call you?” I ask her.
“Fiona suits me better. I never liked Jessica.”
“All right.” I climb to my feet and extend a hand to help her up.
Fiona reclaims her gold heels. “So are we going straight to Essex Street to kill those motherfuckers or do you have a better idea?”
Storming my cousins’ territory would be suicide. We’d never make it past the first layer of their security.
No, I can’t fight them here. And I can’t fight them alone.
Rather than act impulsively and sign my own death warrant, I need to go home. Together, Conner and I will figure out what to do next. Thanks to Conner, I have more allies in my corner. No doubt the first call Conner will place is to Gage Silvestro, who will undoubtedly have no patience for anyone seen as a threat to his family.
My cousins won’t win this war. Jared and Talon aren’t nearly as strong as they think they are.
After a long, haunting look around the familiar setting of the club, I know what I need to do.
“Wait here for a minute,” I tell Fiona.
She moves to the bar. “Think I’ll have another drink in the meantime.”
That’s fine. She might as well drink at the bar while she still can.
Once I’m in my office, a fleeting twinge of loss stops me in my tracks. I’m sticking to my plans anyway. Grabbing a large shopping bag that once held takeout Chinese food bought by Conner, I open my wall safe and dump the contents into the bag. There’s nothing else of value in here. But before I leave for the last time I double back and snatch a vintage copper lighter from my desk.
Back at the bar, Fiona is taking more leisurely sips from her new glass of whiskey. She raises an eyebrow at the sight of me lugging a shopping bag into the room.
“They can’t have it.” I heave the bag on top of the bar. “My cousins can’t have this place to use for their sick schemes.”
“What are you going to do?”
I show off the lighter. “Burn it the fuck down.”
