“I told you.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him. “I’m going to shoot a pigeon. Not that I need to answer to you.”
“Fred —”
“What? Are you going to snitch to my parole officer?” I didn’t see why he was giving me such a hard time.
He glared at me and plated the sandwich. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want you to attract too much attention.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I stepped to the back door. “You worry about yourself and how you intend to make sure that new deal goes down. If you can’t make it happen, then I will.”
I stepped onto the back porch and watched as flocks of birds flew overhead. My dad had taught us to shoot from this very spot. Birds, the occasional rodent. Once or twice our aim was even good enough to get a little field mouse. Never dogs or cats. Not that I think my dad had any affection for them, but according to my dad, killing people’s pets attracted the wrong kind of attention.
I readied myself. Sitting in the white plastic patio chair that hadn’t been there before I went to prison. But long enough to have yellowed in places. I took aim and waited. And waited.
When a small flock of gray birds flew in from the ocean, I was ready. I steadied myself and took aim in the one right at the back. One, two. Fire. The bird dropped but not directly down. Iput the shotgun down next to the back door and quickly made my way to the front of the house.
“And there she is.” Who knew if the thing was male or female. What was important was that those wings were not flapping. I picked the bird up and took it inside. I placed it on the coffee table in the living room.
Charlie still sat watching his soap opera mouth open as he stared at the TV and then at Keith walking out of the kitchen with two plated sandwiches. Well, at least one of them was useful. When it came to the family business? Useless. I would need to get things done myself.
“Where do you keep the shipping boxes? I need a small one.”
“There’s one from a delivery this morning in the kitchen.” My youngest brother frowned down at the dead animal. “What are you doing?”
“Getting my wife back.” I walked through to the kitchen and picked up the box ignoring him and his sandwich.
Charlie frowned at me as I walked back into the living room. “And she’s into dead birds?”
I had no intention of explaining the helpless bird metaphor to him. “I am sending her a message.”
I dug into the dresser drawer underneath the TV.
“Fuck dude.” My brother’s whine was nothing more than an annoyance. “I’m trying to watch.”
“Oh, like you’re going to miss so much from the ten seconds it takes me to get a pair of gloves.”
Another rule my father taught us. You deal with weapons, you keep gloves handy.
I wiped all over the box to make sure that any prints already on it had been smeared sufficiently. I stuffed the bird inside.
I opened Keith’s laptop and found the word processing program. I typed out the little message to my wife and sent it to the wifi printer before I printed out her name.
As I was sticking the name to the outside of the box, Keith walked into the living room with a stack of papers. “When you’re done delivering your late Valentines gift. We need to go over these orders.”
I snorted and nodded before heading out to the car. It was just after three on a Thursday. She wouldn’t be at the bar until later. She might be out picking up Hayden or she could be home already. I would need to be sneaky.
Marina De Ferrier hadn’t changed much in the four years I was away. There was still an ordinance against having CCTV cameras in public spaces. That worked out fine for me. Also, rumor had always been that the residents of Forte Femme were were not big on exaggerated security measures. Both of those things played into my hands.
I parked at the end of the street and walked up to the house slowly. If anyone saw me, I needed a good reason to be in the area. I had no doubt my wife was waiting for an opportunity to file a restraining order. There was no way I would ever allow that.
When I was a few houses away I scanned the street. All the houses appeared to be locked up. No cars in the driveway. As quickly as possible, I dropped off the box and made my way back to my car.
And waited.
CHAPTER 8
MAGGIE
WatchingZoe teach Hayden some soccer moves settled something inside me. With Jaycee force-feeding Connor imaginary tea, I was beginning to love my little temporary life. Not only did Theo’s siblings welcome my kids, they downright adored them.
