C
HAPTER
18
A
nasty, ice-cold rain pelted me as I left school, and I ran for the truck. The sky was gunmetal gray, a perfect match for Colin’s eyes.
“Good day?” he asked, helping me inside.
“Not really.” I held my hands toward the ancient heating vents, breathing in the scent of toasting dust.
He looked me over. “Magic, huh?”
“How’d you know?”
“You walk differently after a run-in with the magic. Like you’re carrying a glass of water, and if you trip, it’ll spill.”
This was not comforting. “I trip a lot.”
He scowled, pulling into traffic. “I know. Are you going to tell me?”
“It’s Constance. We had to tell her about the magic. It got a little crazy.”
“And by ‘we,’ you mean you and Luc?”
“And the woman assigned to help Constance. Niobe. She’s got a job at the school now.”
“How did Constance take it?”
I lifted a shoulder. “About as well as you’d expect. She thinks Evangeline died stopping the Torrent.”
“And you didn’t correct her thinking.” He shook his head. “This won’t end well. She’ll find out eventually.”
“Maybe not.”
“The truth’s a hard thing to keep buried.”
“You manage,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Maybe you could give me some tips.”
“Jesus, Mo. Don’t start.”
“What? You can’t have it both ways. Either it’s important to tell people the truth, in which case I’d like to know what Billy has on you, or it’s okay to lie, in which case I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. “What’s the rest? There was school stuff, too?”
“They’re threatening to kick me out of NHS. If that shows up on my application ...” My voice hitched. “I won’t get in to NYU.”
He rubbed a thumb over my knuckles. “We can fix it. Did they tell you what they want you to do?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“You’ve already told me the unbelievable stuff,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I have to work the dance.” At his blank expression, I added, “The Sadie Hawkins dance.”
“That’s not so bad. You wanted to go, right?”
“I wanted to go with you. And you’re not interested.”
He released my hand. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s very simple. Keeping your secret is more important than being with me. It’s hurtful, Colin, not complicated.” I balled my fists in my lap. He kept his eyes on the road.
“You don’t understand.”
“Because you won’t explain.”
“And I’m not going to,” he said, utterly final and unyielding as stone. “I shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday. I shouldn’t be kissing you at all.”
For a second, I didn’t even feel the cut of his words, like when you’re slicing a loaf of bread and the knife slips. You know something’s wrong, you know you should be in pain, but shock keeps you numb, even as you start to bleed. And then the shock wears off.
It had been so long since Colin had spoken to me in that insufferable, world-weary tone, but hearing it took me back to the first day we’d met, when he’d called me “kid” instead of Mo, when he’d written me off as a spoiled brat and I’d assumed he was a brainless, heartless thug. If he really thought kissing me had been such a mistake, we’d changed less than I thought.
“Then don’t.”
“Mo—” He parked the truck in the alley behind The Slice, killing the engine, and the warmth of the cab evaporated.
“You said you knew me.” I was furious with him for not trusting me, furious with myself for pushing it this far. “You should know how much this hurts.”
“I do.” He reached for me, and I shoved his hand away.
“Then stop. Go back to being my bodyguard. Better yet, get me a new one. I’m done with you.” I hopped out, slamming the door so hard the impact jolted my shoulder. Without looking back, I stomped into the kitchen. Never before had I looked forward to the monotony of coffee refills and pumpkin pie à la mode.
He didn’t follow me inside, and I told myself I was glad.
As I tied on my apron and kerchief, I studied the day’s customers over the kitchen counter. My mom stopped to chat with one of the regulars, Brent, who ran an insurance company a few blocks away.
“Great pie today, Annie,” he said. “Men have proposed for less than this.”
She gave him a quick, absent smile as she refilled his cup. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I do. Can’t figure out how you keep it all running so smoothly. You must get tired of cooking. When’s the last time someone took you to dinner?”
He was hitting on my mom. A normal, decent, noncriminal guy, hitting on my mom. I didn’t know if I should laugh or be offended or cheer. What would our lives have been like if she’d left my dad and found someone else all those years ago? She’d never considered it, I was certain. Too loyal to my father, too mindful of her wedding vows. She probably wouldn’t even recognize that he was asking her out.
“I spend all day at a restaurant. I’m not really one for going out.” She twisted her wedding band and breezed away to take care of another customer. Brent’s face fell, but I was the only one who saw it.
I was surprised at how deftly she’d turned him away, like she’d had practice. How often had it happened over the years? How many times had I failed to see it? It was like looking through the viewfinder of my camera and discovering the focus was all wrong. I didn’t like the feeling.
“Sweetheart!” My mom smiled as I pushed through the swinging doors into the restaurant. I grabbed an order pad from the counter. Brent was gone. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” I said, trying to stuff an escaped lock of hair back into my kerchief unsuccessfully. We’d never had the kind of relationship where I talked to her about guys. Considering the guy in question, I planned on sticking to that policy.
She peered at me. “You’re unhappy.”
“Just tired,” I said, remembering Billy’s words from the night before about how I’d ruined her day.
“Sit for a few minutes.” She gestured toward an empty stool at the counter and I obeyed, watching as she fixed me a cup of tea. While I warmed my hands on the white stoneware, she plated a brownie from one of the dessert stands and slid it across the counter. “You can’t be waiting on customers with that face.”
I blinked at her. Either she was feeling badly about last night or I looked even more miserable than I felt.
“I’m on my way out to do the deliveries, unless ... you need me here?” There was a hopeful note to her voice, and I smiled weakly.
“I’m okay,” I said. “The tea helped.”
“Maybe you need a break.” She leaned over and adjusted my kerchief. “I’ve been thinking we should take a trip.”
“A trip,” I echoed, some inner alarm triggering at her determinedly bright tone.
“You and me. The Fitzgerald Girls, getting away for a bit. Not long, just a weekend, so you don’t miss school.”
We didn’t have money for a spur-of-the-moment vacation. And where would we go? I was a little old for Disney, and my mom wasn’t exactly the spa type. Either she was trying to get me out of town on Billy’s orders, or ...
“We could go see Daddy.”
“No.” My response was instant, a reflex I’d honed over the last four years.
Her brow furrowed. “But he wants to see us, so we can celebrate the good news.”
I managed to stop myself from pointing out that not everyone considered his early release good news. “I’m not going to Terre Haute, Mom.” Before she could ask why, I answered with the only reason she would accept. “You know they always pile on a ton of work before Thanksgiving.”
She smoothed her hair back into its bun, disappointment tightening her mouth. “But it doesn’t seem fair to make him wait until the break.”
“Sorry.” I could not have been less sincere if I was trying to sell her a used car, but she cheered up when I said it.
“We could go this weekend,” she suggested “A quick trip.”
“I can’t. I have to work the dance, remember?” How many other excuses could I drum up?
She paused, then rallied. “Surely Sister Donna would understand if we found some other way for you to volunteer. This is family!”
Maybe so, but I wasn’t about to take the chance. “Do you have any idea how ungrateful I’ll seem? They gave me a second chance—I can’t blow it off.”
“But I promised your father.”
“Go and see him, then.”
She frowned. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“I’m never alone. I have a bodyguard. And a very expensive alarm system.” Not that I had any intention of speaking to my bodyguard for the next, oh, fifty years or so. “You can go if you want. But I’m staying here.”
“We’ll see,” she said. “Sister Donna probably wouldn’t appreciate you backing out of your commitment. It’s important that she knows you’re the same reliable, level-headed girl you’ve always been. We could always go another weekend. Maybe after Christmas. That might work out better, to go between semesters.”
I watched as she convinced herself she hadn’t really lost—she’d found a way to want the alternative. She’d gotten really good at it over the years.
Finally, she nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Great.” As I took my place behind the counter, I pasted a smile on my face. Bigger smiles meant bigger tips, and bigger tips meant more money for the New York fund. Plus, I knew Colin was watching me through the window, and I wanted him to see exactly how happy I was without him.
C
HAPTER
19
A
n hour later, my smile slipped as Jenny Kowalski came in, huddled into her North Face jacket. I was behind the counter, rolling place settings into napkins. I was definitely not looking out the window toward Colin.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, turning over her coffee cup. I filled it with decaf, not bothering to ask which kind she wanted. If there was anyone in the world who needed to lay off the caffeine, it was Jenny.
“What do you want?”
“I heard the good news. Congratulations.”
“The good news?”
“About your dad.” She dumped three packets of sugar into her coffee. “It must be nice, to have a dad coming home.”
I exhaled slowly and rolled my shoulders. “Can you do me a favor? Either tell me what you’re doing here or don’t be here at all.”
She toyed with the menu. “I told you to look into your family. Did you?”
“I’ve been a little busy,” I said through clenched teeth.
“And I have other tables. Besides, whatever you’re hoping I’ll dig up won’t have anything to do with me.”
Jenny laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? It’s got everything to do with you. Your uncle’s done all sorts of things to keep control of his territory. Asking you to fake that ID was nothing.”
Booth four signaled for their check. “Where are you getting all this?” It wasn’t the sort of thing she would have figured out by herself, even if she’d been listening to her dad. Someone had to be feeding her information. Someone in Billy’s organization? Ekomov’s people? One of her dad’s poker buddies? Jenny was trouble, but whoever was helping her was
dangerous
. The person behind the scenes always wielded the most power.
“Does it matter who told me? I’m trying to do you a favor.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“I thought you’d appreciate a warning. Yuri Ekomov’s been asking about you. So have your uncle’s bosses. You should be careful.”
“I have a bodyguard.”
“Colin Donnelly? Do you know his story?”
Somehow, I managed to keep my voice even. “He doesn’t have one.”
“Or you don’t know it.”
“And you do?”
“More than you.” She smirked and pulled two file folders from her backpack. “Donnelly,” she said, pointing to the thinner of the two. “Your family.” The second folder was overflowing, held closed with rubber bands that looked as if they might snap at any moment.
I waved at booth four. People were starting to notice our conversation. “What do you want?”
“Proof that your uncle killed my dad.”
“I can’t prove something that’s not true.”
She tapped the folders with her nail, bitten to the quick. “There’s a lot of information in here. I’d be willing to trade.”
“I don’t know anything.” The folders looked so harmless, even a little dull. But inside were answers to questions that burned in my veins like magic.
“Only because you won’t look. We know what he’s involved in. All we need is the proof, but he’s really careful.”
“Maybe he’s innocent.”
She scoffed. “You don’t believe that.”
No, but refusing to help my uncle was one thing; sending him to prison was another. Besides, I didn’t care about taking down Billy. All I wanted was to get Colin free. Jenny—and the people feeding her information—dangled those folders in front of me like bait. But the whole point of bait was to conceal a trap, and until I knew how this trap worked, I couldn’t risk it.
“Not interested,” I said. It might have been my biggest lie yet.