C
HAPTER
33
“Y
ou’re planning something,” Colin said as I set the dinner table that night. I’d managed to avoid him all afternoon, sending him a quick text when Luc and I had returned from the nursing home. He’d stuck around since then, finishing up repairs from the break-in while I hid in my room.
“Why would you say that?” I laid out napkins, adjusting them precisely so I could keep my face turned away.
He ticked his reasons off on his fingers. “One, you and Luc snuck away from The Slice this afternoon, to God only knows where. That’s never a good sign. Two, you came home acting like the fight with your mom never happened. You’re working an angle and you need her in a good mood. Three ...” He trailed off, and I finally looked up, curious.
“What?”
“I can practically see the wheels turning in your brain. Does this have to do with the Arcs?”
I skirted the table, lining up silverware, trying to explain without showing my hand. “I set a bunch of things in motion, didn’t I? The Russians, Billy trying to prove his loyalty to Marco Forelli? Even Kowalski’s death, because people think Billy and the Mob are involved.”
“You just need to keep your head down a little longer,” he said. “Let it all blow over. We’ll get you to New York, get you clear of it.”
“I’ll never be clear of it. You know that. I wanted the truth, Colin. Now I have to decide what to do with it.” I didn’t mention that it was his truth I’d discovered today.
Before he could reply, my mom came bustling back into the room. She was going all-out with dinner tonight, which was her standard response to stress: cook, clean, make everything as perfect as possible.
“Did you have a nice time with Lena?” she asked, peering into the oven.
“With Lena?” I asked. Colin nudged me. “Oh. Totally, yeah. Great time.”
The realization he’d covered for me while I’d been digging around in his past made my mouth taste stale with shame.
“I imagine she thinks it’ll be quite the story to tell at school.” My mom shook the salad dressing more vigorously than necessary.
“Lena’s not going to tell people. She’s my friend.”
Mom eased up on the dressing. Her hands were almost steady as she poured it over the salad and threw in croutons. “I’m glad. You need to make a friend or two, like that Jenny girl. There hasn’t been anyone since ...”
Amazing how many things my family was conditioned not to talk about. Freewheeling conversation was not something we did.
“I meant to ask—were you able to fix my computer?”
“Yeah, this afternoon. You should be all set. I didn’t have the backup disks, though, so I couldn’t restore the files.”
She waved a hand. “I’ll take care of the backups Monday. They’re at the restaurant.”
I knew they were, under lock and key. All her finances, and the books for my uncle, too.
“You’ve been so busy lately.”
I thought about the old hard drive, duct-taped to the back of my dresser so she wouldn’t find it, the trip to the nursing home, my work with the Quartoren. “I have. But I was thinking ...” I snuck a quick look at Colin, who held up his hands in a gesture of “leave me out of this.” “I want to go see Dad.”
The salad tongs slipped from her hands, clattering against the side of the bowl. “See Daddy?”
“I should have gone with you. I feel bad about it now.”
Her eyes grew shiny. “What about missing school? What will your teachers say?”
“They’ll understand. Like you said, it’s family. I can do all my homework tomorrow, after church. If I go down to Terre Haute on Monday morning, I could be back late that night. I’d only miss one day.”
Behind me, Colin drummed his fingers. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was glowering.
“Honey, I just left The Slice for two days. I can’t turn around and leave again, not with all the special orders for Thanksgiving coming up. Maybe we could go Thanksgiving weekend. We’d have more time together, the three of us.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You said you wanted me to spend time with Dad. Now I’m trying, and you won’t let me.”
She frowned as she pulled the pan of chicken parmesan out of the oven. “I’m glad you want to see your father, but you haven’t thought this through. How will you get down there?”
I paused, like I was actually thinking about it. “I guess ... Colin could drive me, maybe. If it’s not too much trouble.”
He set his glass down so hard that water sloshed over the rim. Smiling as innocently as I could, I passed him a towel. He didn’t smile back.
“Colin?” My mom wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s a big favor to ask. But ...”
I fixed my eyes on the tablecloth, trying to appear wistful.
“It would mean the world to Mo’s father,” she said. “She’s changed so much since he saw her last.”
Um, yeah. I’d been thirteen the last time I went to Terre Haute.
“I’m sure she has,” he said grimly. I didn’t dare look at him, much less breathe. When he heaved a sigh, I exhaled, too. “Yeah. I can take her.”
Mom clasped her hands. “Thank you, Colin. I can’t tell you ... The look on Daddy’s face when he sees you,” she added, sweeping me up in a hug.
I caught sight of my reflection in the window over the sink, pale and unsmiling. Four years since I’d seen my father. It felt more like four lifetimes.
If my mom had been any more delighted at dinner, she would have burst into song. I was making every effort to seem just as cheerful and excited, like this visit was really triggered by a sudden desire to restore family harmony. Inside, I was trying to figure out the best way to approach my dad. Four years was, admittedly, a long time to go without a visit. Mom could be wrong. He might be so resentful about my absence that he wouldn’t want to help me. Or maybe he’d be remorseful and do whatever he could to help. Maybe—and this was the possibility that turned my meal to sawdust in my mouth—maybe he was still loyal to Billy and Marco Forelli.
Colin, meanwhile, tucked away his food and stayed quiet, only speaking when my mom posed a direct question. The rest of the time, he studied me, questions brewing the entire time. I wondered if he’d wait until Monday to ask them, but after I’d cleared the table, he shooed my mom out.
“You cooked,” he said firmly. “The least Mo and I can do is wash up.”
She patted his cheek. “You are a credit to your mother,” she said, and if I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have seen the flash of pain across his features. “I’m going to catch up on some paperwork. Let me know when you’re ready for dessert.”
I loaded the dishwasher as Colin lounged against the counter, arms crossed, mouth turned down.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” I scrubbed baked-on cheese and tried to sound innocent.
He kept his voice low. “Don’t try to tell me you’re looking to mend fences with your dad.”
I considered lying to him for about a tenth of a second, but it was foolish. Nobody knew me the way Colin did. Besides, he deserved better. “Billy isn’t going to tell me the truth. My mom certainly isn’t. I’m not sure she even knows what the truth is. My dad’s the only one who can tell me everything.”
“What makes you think he will?”
“I’m his daughter.”
“Yeah, and he committed perjury for you. He went to federal prison to protect you. If you’re looking for the cold, hard truth, he’s hardly the one to ask.”
I faced him full-on, hands on hips. “In the last few months, I have witnessed a murder, been threatened by the Outfit, received flowers from a Russian gangster, and had men with guns break into my house. Whatever protection I got when my dad went to prison is all used up.”
“Let’s say he tells you the truth—which I don’t believe he will—but let’s say he does. What are you looking to do with it?”
“It’s like you said. Everyone wants something from me: Billy, Forelli, Ekomov. And they’ll lie to get it. But my dad ... he has no reason to lie anymore. He’s the only one who can give me the truth, and once he does, I’ll know what I need to do.”
“Stop. You cannot go up against Forelli. Billy’s bad enough, but at least he’s family. He can make your life harder, but he won’t hurt you. You make trouble, Marco Forelli will have no problem hurting you. The people you love. You’ve seen how easily he got to your family and friends. Do you think that’s changed?”
“No. But I’m done letting other people control my life.” Everything was speeding out of control, like a runaway freight train—my family, the Russians, the Covenant—and I was absolutely certain that if I didn’t act soon, there’d be no stopping the catastrophe ahead. “You said you wanted me to get clear of this. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Taking on the Mob was not what I had in mind, and you know it.”
“Are you two ready for dessert?” Mom called.
I stepped away from Colin and busied myself putting the last of the pots and pans away.
“I’m going to pass,” he said, giving my mom a rueful smile. “Get ready for Monday. Billy’s assigned someone to watch the house at night, by the way, but you won’t see him unless there’s a problem.”
“Thank you,” my mom said softly. We waited in the kitchen as he set the alarm and stalked to the truck, exchanging a quick word with someone in a nondescript Buick.
“Sit,” she said. “Have some dessert.”
Warily, I settled in at the table as she fixed tea and brownies. The way she’d forgotten our fight, agreed to let me go ... I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple.
“Last week you were a little girl. Remember how you used to skin your knees all the time? I thought you’d go around with holes in your tights forever.” She traced the patterned tabletop with a finger. “And now you’re practically grown. Going to see your father, turning things around at school. I know pride’s a sin, but I can’t help being proud of you.”
I tried not to squirm. Next she’d be talking about how great it would be to have my dad home again, and I’d have to play along. She cleared her throat. “Your uncle was worried, you know.”
“About what?”
“That you might have a little ... crush ... on Colin.”
My cheeks went hot, and I pushed the brownie away. “
Please
tell me you and Uncle Billy are not discussing my love life.”
“Not your love life,” she soothed. “Just Colin.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Mom. Stop.”
“He’s a handsome young man. And he’s spent so much time with us, it would be easy for you to misread his attention. I know he seems exciting, and you haven’t had many boyfriends. But he’s led a much different life than you.”
“Mom ...” I wanted to curl up in a ball, I was so embarrassed.
“I’m grateful to Colin. He’s kept you safe these last few months, and given you someone to talk to. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up. Besides, you should focus your energies on school. There’ll be plenty of time for boys later.”
“Later,” I said, thinking of Luc at the dance.
She patted my hand. “I told Billy you were too sensible for that kind of thing, but you know how protective he is. You’d better get ready for Monday. I’ll clean up.”
C
HAPTER
34
M
y mom stayed late Monday morning to see me off. Normally, she was gone before four-thirty, to open The Slice, but apparently my first solo prison visit was the sort of special occasion that merited a late start.
“I didn’t want you to get hungry on the road,” she said, handing me a Tupperware container of scones. “Should I fix a thermos of coffee?”
“You baked? Seriously?”
Her smile dimmed. With quick, nervous movements, she smoothed down my hair and brushed nonexistent dust from my coat. Colin’s truck pulled up outside the new picture window. “He’s here!”
“I can see that.” Colin ambled up the walk, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sheepskin-lined jacket. He looked surly—surlier than usual, but it suited him.
“Give him a scone,” she said. “And be nice. This is a kind thing he’s doing.”
“I’m always nice,” I pointed out.
“Don’t be lippy,” she said, and practically shoved me out the door. “Give your father my love! Tell him we’ll come out Thanksgiving weekend! I love you!”
“You too,” I said, hurrying down the sidewalk to meet Colin halfway.
“She made scones,” I explained as he took the container. “She’s very excited.”
“Great. Billy is not.”
“You told him?” I should have expected it, but the news still set me on edge. “What did he say?”
“He’s not buying the idea you had a change of heart about your dad, that’s for damn sure. I told him you thought the attack Friday had something to do with him, so you were going to give him hell.”
“And?”
“He found that slightly more believable. He also doesn’t mind the notion of getting you out of town, even if it’s just for a day.”
“Why is that?”
“I assume because he’s not thrilled about Ekomov’s guys breaking down your door. There are going to be repercussions, and he doesn’t want you around for them.”
I didn’t ask what he meant by “repercussions.”
It was strange to drive south and leave the city behind. The rows of closely nestled bungalows gave way to warehouses, factories, train yards, and then the city retreated, leaving suburban houses in their wake, with sprawling yards and trampolines, upscale malls and big box stores.
“Scone?” I said eventually.
He took one, crumbs sprinkling down the front of his shirt. “You never said why Luc came by.”
“To visit, I guess.” He’d tracked me down for some reason, I was sure. But once he’d heard about the break-in, he’d seemed reluctant to bring up the Covenant or anything Arc related. Like he didn’t want to add to my problems.
“And the two of you ...”
I curled my hands in my lap and watched as the suburbs gave way to industrial parks and cornfields.
“Right,” he said under his breath. “Have they figured out how you can fix the magic?”
“We’ve got some ideas,” I said, not wanting to clarify.
“Dangerous ideas?”
I bit my lip.
“I’m coming with.”
“They won’t like that,” I said quietly.
“I did it before. I can do it again.”
“This is different. It’s the Quartoren, and they don’t like Flats.”
“You’re Flat.”
“They don’t like me. They need me.” Which made them hate me even more. I wondered why I hadn’t seen it before—it wasn’t only that I was Flat, or that I’d killed Evangeline and caused all this trouble. It was the fact that the power to save them was tied up inside someone they’d always considered a lesser life form. It was like poker, and the aces were being wasted on someone who didn’t know how to play.
The time for sitting back and watching everyone else act was over. It was time to play the game.
“What does Billy want from me?” I asked, trying to turn Colin’s attention away from Luc and the Quartoren.
“To stay out of his way,” Colin said automatically. “Barring that, he wants you to help him keep his position with Forelli. He thinks you could feed the Russians false information.”
I’d refused to lie to the police. Billy must have assumed I’d be less particular about the bad guys. “What did you say?”
“You’re too unpredictable. And a lousy liar. They’d see through you in a heartbeat.”
For some reason, this was vaguely insulting. “I fooled my mom.”
“Your mother is emotionally invested in believing you. Yuri Ekomov would never buy it. It’s too dangerous. I want you far away from the whole thing.”
I thought about Tess, tucked away in the nursing home, and my mom, working so hard to make everything seem normal. Hiding had appealed to me once, but not anymore.
“Look, I know it’s your job, but you can’t protect me from everything. It’s not even possible.”
“I can try,” he said. “And I’m not doing it because it’s my job.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. We kept driving, past cornfields cut down to stubble and acres of yellowing soybeans. The land was so empty and open, I felt dizzy, like I was losing my balance.
My vertigo increased, and I pressed my hands against the dash. I’d never been carsick in my life, but it seemed like a distinct possibility now. Just as I was about to say something, the check engine light came on.
“Damn.” He peered farther down the road. “Eight miles to the next gas station. I think we can make it.”
“Do you know what’s wrong?” Casually, I leaned against the window, the cold glass soothing against my cheek.
“No. I just changed the oil, checked everything over last night when I got home.”
He cocked his head to the side, listening to the engine. I couldn’t hear anything except the whir of the wheels on pavement.
“It sounds fine,” he said after a moment. “We’ll check it out at the gas station.”
I nodded, biting my lip, trying to envision my life away from Chicago. It was a trick I’d learned—it was easier to endure Jill McAllister and her snide comments when I was imagining my life in New York. Right now, though, the picture in my head refused to focus.
“Before Verity died, did you know who I was?”
“Sure. I was at Morgan’s a lot. I came to The Slice, too, sometimes.”
“How come I never saw you?”
“I’m good at not being noticed.”
Of course he was. He’d spent his childhood trying to escape the notice of Raymond Gaskill. It wasn’t shyness, it was a survival technique. One he was trying to instill in me.
“If I leave,” I asked, “if I go to New York ... do you go, too?”
“You probably wouldn’t need a bodyguard there. If you did, Billy would assign you a new one.”
“Why?”
“I’m not leaving Chicago, Mo. Ever.”
I knew why. Tess. I’d known his answer before I’d ever posed the question. What I really wanted was for him to confide in me, to give me the truth freely instead of my ferreting it out from police reports and newspaper clippings. The disappointment made my head ache worse.
“What if I stayed?” The question slipped out before I’d realized it. He’d made it clear we had no future. And whether I accepted my place with the Arcs or struck out on my own, I had no intention of remaining in Chicago. But something—the need to hold on to something steady amid the turbulence, maybe—made me ask.
Whatever the reason, once I’d said the words, they couldn’t be taken back. Colin’s hand reached for mine, and then he swore, yanking the wheel to the right. We’d nearly missed our exit, and the truck bumped over the shoulder as we veered off the highway.
It was one of those tiny farm towns with a gas station, a McDonald’s, and no traffic lights. Down the road, I saw a group of tall silos, a bunch of machinery in front of them. We pulled into the gas station and sat, staring at each other. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white. After a minute, I said, “Forget I asked.”
He forced a laugh. “Not likely.”
I flushed and reached for the door handle. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want something?”
“Water, thanks.” He climbed out and popped the hood, glancing around the deserted gas station. The bell above the mini-mart door jingled cheerfully.
“Son of a bitch,” Colin muttered, and I peered around the raised hood of the truck.
Luc sauntered across the parking lot, sharp and sleek in a black leather jacket.
“Car trouble?” he asked, mischief lighting his eyes. “Maybe I can lend a hand.”