“She convinced me it would work with the right person, and then convinced me the guy who once tried to give her a cookie was that person.”
Gus laughed, but it was an exhausted, startled sound. “You… You were…”
Abruptly, he put his back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor beside Nikolett’s legs. Then he reached up and with a quick flick, undid the cuff on the wrist closest to him.
Eric moved fast, undoing the second cuff and then pushing her toward the door. Nikolett was more than ready to get out of the castle, and make sure everyone else was out too, until she realized Eric wasn’t coming with her. He’d pushed her to the stairs but turned back to the dungeon cell.
Nikolett whirled. “I’m not leaving you, Eric.”
“Please, Nikki, go.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
“She’s not allowed to leave,” Gus said, but he sounded tired. Almost like he didn’t care if she did leave.
But maybe it was the kind of tired that would lead to him saying “fuck it” and blowing all of them up.
Eric must have had the same thought because he stepped in close to cup her cheeks. Then his hands slid from her face, down her arms. They stared at one another silently.
“Fuck,” Eric muttered. “Fine.”
He tangled his fingers with hers then slowly led her back over to the wall. Eric put her on the far side, so he was between her and Gus, then they all sat.
“Nils Ericsson was an asshole,” Eric said after a long silent moment.
Gus barked out a laugh. “I’ve never heard anyone say his name aloud before. His real name. That wasn’t the name he gave my mother.”
“Your mother is Spanish?”
“Was,” Gus corrected. “She died when I was twelve. Old enough to know how horrible it was to lose her, not old enough to take care of myself.”
“And Nils was nowhere to be found when she died.”
Nikolett stayed silent, letting the brothers talk. This moment would have been peaceful, maybe even healing, if there wasn’t a single word thrumming through her brain in time with each beat of her heart.
Bomb, bomb, bomb.
“No. I told the authorities the name my father gave my mother, but no one by that name ever existed according to them. I was good, very good, with computers. When I was fifteen, I found him.”
“How?”
“DNA. I put my DNA in and found a few cousin matches, then hacked the database so I could get their contact information. They were his cousins, whom I don’t think he knew, but I was able to trace it back to him.”
“I bet he hated that.”
“He did. And I should have known better than to email him. I knew he didn’t care about me. My mother liked to pretend he did, but I heard him. Saw the way he looked at me. Heard him laugh when he learned she’d given me the name he suggested.”
“Did he pretend to be Scottish when he was with your mother?” Nikolett asked, invested in the story. “Is that why he named you Angus?”
“No. He didn’t. He never pretended to anything but what he was. My mother was not…I think my mother had cognitive issues. She didn’t always understand things. I don’t think she ever understood that he’d suggested a name tied to a people and a country that had nothing to do with either of us, just because he could. Just because, for him, it was a funny joke.”
As troubling as it was to imagine Nils Ericsson taking advantage of a mentally handicapped woman and then ignoring their child, it hardly explained Gus’ bitterness toward Eric.
“When I contacted him,” Gus said after a short silence, “he offered me a job.”
“Fuck,” Eric breathed.
“He had a client who needed assets moved. He gave me to the client, told them I’d move their assets. My favorite part was that they said they’d give me new passports. New names. I got to stop being Angus McAngus.”
