“It’s not that,” he said. “Kev would kick my ass if he caught me drinking alcohol while stuff like this is happening. He’d say, ‘Lack of vigilance will get you killed.’ ” He shrugged. “He doesn’t say it so much now that he’s in love. Guess the world seems less dangerous now.”
“The bad guys aren’t here tonight. Go ahead,” she urged.
He sank down onto a stool near the fire. “Nah. I don’t know where they are, how many, what their resources are. Makes me fucking tense.”
“I noticed,” she murmured.
“That bad, huh?”
“Terrible,” she informed him. “Like toxic waste.”
He laughed, but the sound petered out fast. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s OK,” she said. “I’m being a little more bitchy than usual, too.”
He slanted her an eyebrow-tilted glance. “Just a little?”
“Just a little,” she said resolutely. “Cannot tell a lie. I’m snarky and difficult even under normal circumstnces. Just so you know.”
His dimples flashed. “Good of you to warn me.”
She blew out a sharp breath. “I try to be good.”
They listened to the fire crackling for a while.
“Normal circumstances,” he echoed. “What are those, for you?”
“Huh?” His keen gaze scrambled her thoughts into mush. “What?”
“Your ‘normal.’ I have no idea what that is,” he said. “I met you in a really weird time in your life. So clue me in. What’s normal, for you?”
She hesitated for so long he started to look worried. Like she was going to confess to being an escort, or cooking meth in her basement.
Oh, hell. Out with it. “I write term papers,” she said.
His brows knitted together. “Yeah? For what? About what?”
“About anything. On any topic. For whoever can pay my fees.”
The puzzlement on his face was replaced by surprise. “Huh? Oh. You mean . . . for people who are cheating? In school?”
“Yeah.” She braced herself for the judgment that was coming.
But he just looked fascinated. He tilted his head to the side, studying her intently. “Who hires you? College kids?”
“Lots of different types,” she said. “Foreign students who can’t manage the English. Non-foreign students who can’t manage it, either. Rich kids who are too busy partying. They all keep me busy.”
“No shit,” he murmured. “So what’s your own degree in?”
She shook her head. “Don’t have one. Never made it all the way.”
He frowned. “But how . . . but if you’re so good at writing—”
“I was going to Columbia,” she began. “Full scholarship. I was going to get my BA and my masters both in four years. I had one year to go, my thesis to write. Then I discovered that Howard hadn’t paid the property taxes on his house. He’d spaced it, for years. I had to come up with eighteen thousand dollars, or he’d have lost the house.”
“Whoa,” he murmured. “Ouch.”
“Bad enough, him being a junkie,” she said. “But him being a junkie under a bridge, or in the subway, well. That I could not face.”
“I hear you,” he said.
“So there was this Greek guy I knew who was struggling with his doctoral thesis in history of medicine. He offered me three thousand bucks to write it for him.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t turn it down.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” he said. “I wouldn’t have, either.”
She blinked. Wow. Nice of him to be so understanding. “So, word got around,” she continued. “I started getting referrals.”
“Did you pay the property taxes?”
“Yes. But I never managed to finish my own degree. There was no time. I was at it twelve hours a day. Then Howard had another episode.”
“Episode?” Bruno repeated gently.
“Overdose. Suicide attempt. I decided to put him in a clinic, since I’d finally found a way to pay for it. And if someone was watching him, I figured, I might even be able to sleep at night. When I wasn’t working.”
“Sounds tough,” he murmured. “I’m sorry that you—”
“I’m trolling for sympathy,” she said, abruptly.
He held up his hands. “God, no. Never that.”
The fire crackled in the heavy silence. Lily decided it was time to conclude the touchy subject and move on. “I was stuck, once Howard was committed,” she said. “It was the only work I could do that earned me enough to live, plus fork out eleven thousand bucks a month.”
He winced. “A month? Good God.”
“And that was one of the more reasonable places. So, that’s normal, for me. Writing for cheaters. Go ahead. I’m braced for it.”
“You are?” He actually looked like he was trying not to smile, the smart-ass bastard. “Braced for what? What am I supposed to say?”
“You don’t have to say it. I’ve heard it all,” she said. “Wasted potential. Pearls before swine. Prostituting my gifts. Bad karma. It broke my friend Nina’s heart. She thought I should have just pulled the plug on Howard and let whatever happened to him happen. But I just . . . couldn’t.” She looked down. “The joke was on me, though. The worst happened anyway. He’s dead. All that effort. Down the drain.”
“No.” Bruno’s voice was resolute. “Your friend was right in that it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But I still admire you for trying.”
She was taken aback. “Ah. Um, thanks. I guess.”
“I read somewhere, if you do something for love, the effort is never wasted.”
The memory flashed through her mind. Those long-ago Sundays in Riverside Park, playing cards, joking around, laughing and people-watching with Howard. She looked away from Bruno, eyes stinging.
“Sappy greeting-card platitudes like that bite my ass,” she said.
He choked off muffled laughter. “Tough bitch.”
“Yep, that’s me.” She didn’t want to go any deeper, but she couldn’t bear the silence. “And you? What’s normal for you?”
“Why ask? You know everything there is to know about me.”
She felt absurdly hurt. “That’s not true! I know you have a part ownership in the diner. I know you own a business selling kites and educational toys. And that’s all. It’s a very superficial level of knowing.”
“What else is there?”
“You’re being deliberately stupid and annoying,” she snapped.
“Yeah, about that. Just to be fair. I’m stupid and annoying even under normal circumstances. So what do you want to know, anyhow?”
“How you feel about it,” she said, crabbily. “If you like it. If you’re satisfied. If it’s what you dreamed about when you were a kid.”
He stared into the fire. “I don’t know.” He sounded reluctant. “It’s a good business. I like that I call the shots, that I own the outfit. But it’s not something I set out to do with a clear plan. It just grew. I saw profit potential in Kev’s designs, and I went for it. I just wanted to make money. I thought it would make me feel . . .”
“What?” she urged, after he petered out. “Make you feel what?”
He flapped his hand. “I don’t know. Safe, maybe.”
“From what?” she prodded.
He frowned. “I don’t know. I’m just talking out my ass, Lily. Safe from feeling like shit, I guess. Safe from feeling scared.”
It took her a minute to work uptheerve to ask. “Does it work?”
His face was like a stone mask. “No,” he said.
It took a while to breathe down the tears. “What pathetic schlubs we both are,” she said. “Going after the moon with a butterfly net.”
His dimples flashed. “That’s a poetic way of describing pathetic schlub behavior.”
“Hey, you know us crazy poet types.”
The c-word wiped the smile right off his face. He shot up to his feet, his face a stone mask again. “It’s late. Tomorrow’s a big day. You should get some sleep. Dealing with McClouds takes a lot of energy.”
Aw, crap. She’d accidentally killed the tender moment. But no way was she going to be dismissed like this. “You look like you’re chewing Excedrin tablets whenever you mention the McClouds,” she said. “What’s your deal with those guys? Do you dislike them so much?”
Bruno looked uncomfortable. “No. They’re OK.”
“You’re lying,” she said baldly. “Out with it.”
“No. Really. They’re fine,” he insisted. “I’m the problem, not them. You know that thing that happened, with the Parrishes, last year? Kev’s amnesia, and all that? Him finding his biological brothers?”
“I read everything that was in the papers,” she said.
“Well, there they are. Kev’s brothers. They look like him. They’re smart, like him. They know all this crazy shit that nobody else knows, like him. He’s got this wacky childhood in common with them, and he remembers it all. How do you expect me to feel about them?”
“Um . . . you could try being happy for him?” she ventured.
“Awww.” He held up his hand, rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Here’s the world’s smallest violin, playing a sappy tune.”
“Ouch,” she murmured. “That bad?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s that bad. He’s the only brother I have. Then, one day, he gets three new, improved brothers. Guns drawn, muscles flexed, saving his ass when the shit came down. More than I could. And afterward, there’s the tender family reunion, right? And the lovely wives are covering him with kisses, and babies are tumbling, and kids are swarming, all the nephews and nieces jumping all over long-lost Uncle Kevvie. And I’m, like, great, dude. Yay for you. Good on you.”
“So you feel like chopped liver?” she asked. “Is that the problem?”
“Fuck, Lily. I never claimed to be Mr. Mature. Could we change the subject? Because the further you go with this one, the more badly it’s going to reflect on me. I’m a selfish dickhead. End of story.”
“No you are not,” she said. “Anyone would feel that way, whether they admitted it or not. You just say how you feel, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s the definition of a dickhead,” he said sourly. “A guy who isn’t smart enough to shut his big mouth in time.”
“No. That’s not the definition of a dickhead,” she said quietly.
“No? In any case, I’m using the McClouds in spite of feeling like chopped liver. They can’t say no to me, for Kev’s sake, so I’ll exploit them for my own selfish purposes. Sounds dick-headed to me.”
“Exploit them how?”
“Making them help you. Kev’s twin is coming to get us. They’ll find a place for you to hide. Help me find who’s gunning for you. Ty may bug me, but they might as well make themselves useful in the process.”
She stared at him. “Bruno,” she said. “These people don’t know me. They don’t owe me favors. I have no money to pay them for their time and resources. How long will they realistically put up with this?”
He looked obdurate. “Until I say it’s enough.”
“You have that kind of clout with them?”
“I’ll use up what clout I have. Might as well be good for something, right? When they’re sick of helping, I’ll think of something else.”
He stared back at her, belligerent. Daring her to argue.
“Another thing,” she said quietly. “You just met me. You don’t know me, either. Not really. How long can you put up with this?”
He shrugged, dismissively. “I guess we’ll find out, huh?”
She shook her head. “No. Waiting to find out would destroy me. I appreciate your willingness to help, but I have a way better idea. Drive me to a bus station, lend me enough cash for a sandwich and a bus ticket to Anywhere, USA, and wish me luck.”
“I can’t do that,” he said.
She covered her face. “Oh, Bruno. For God’s sake—”
“You don’t understand, Lily.” His voice cut through hers. “I’m not just being difficult or stubborn. I literally cannot . . . do . . . that. I can’t cut you loose, put you on a fucking bus. Not an option. Sorry.”
“And if I just, you know, disappeared?” she offered. “Would that release you from this compulsion?”
“No,” he said. “I’d come after you. And I’d be sorely pissed.”
“I’ve had enough of pissed people coming after me lately,” she flared. “I don’t need it from you, too.”
“Fine. Shut the fuck up and accept my help with no back talk. You don’t have any choice.” He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders, looming. His energy overwhelming her. “I’m bigger than you.”
She stared up at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare try to intimidate me,” she said through her teeth.
“Just trying to find out what works with you.”
“That won’t work, ever,” she informed him. “It’ll just piss me off. So, this compulsion to protect me, it’s because we had sex, right? So now you think you’re somehow responsible for me?”
His fingers tightened. “Don’t start, Lily.”
“That’s stupid, you know. And wrong. Antique bullshit.”
The dim room seemed suddenly smaller, hotter. She shoved his hands off her shoulders and tried to stare him down. But she was falling in, getting lost in the fathomless darkness of his hooded eyes.