“I’ll have to find a way to get the sketch. Nice work, baby.”
“Dina,” Declan says in a way that makes me want to salute him.
I pull back my shoulders. “Yes?”
“When the officer stopped you, did he make you open the bag or did he open it?”
“He made me open it, and it all happened too fast. Once we both saw what was inside, he took out his weapon and shouted for me to get on the ground. I went down crying and panicked.”
“It’s okay, Dina. They won’t pin Massio’s murder on you.”
“Or you,” Connor says. “Because I did it.”
“Con, please be helpful and find a way to get the rifle instead of going down as a martyr.”
“On your own time,” I say. “Do that on your time when I’m not around. Please. Whatever scheme you two work out, I won’t be a part of it. I want to go back to my apartment, have a bottle of wine, and a soak in the tub, and I want to sleep for five days.”
Declan looks away.
“I can’t go back to my apartment, can I?”
Declan nods. “You can. For a few minutes. Grab your essentials, show your face.”
“What do you mean, show my face?”
He points outside. “We’re almost here.” He pulls out a gun and hands it to me. “I know you know how to use it.”
“She does?” Connor asks, sounding excited.
I hand the gun back to him. “I’m a fugitive. If they see me with a gun, they’ll shoot.”
“Nobody is going to hurt you. And if they do, I’ll burn this fucking city to the ground.”
“I really hope someone takes a shot at her,” Connor says. When Declan and I both stare at him, he explains. “So I can burn the city. Duh.”
“Duh,” I repeat.
Before we get out, Connor puts the brown contact back into his eye.
The street is empty, which is strange. This is usually a busy street. When I look left and right before we cross, I see why no cars are passing by. Men in tactical gear lean against SUVs they parked in the middle of each end of the street, blocking access.
In Selnoa, people know better than to tell the men to move. Everyone stays in their cars and waits for the men to leave. Crossbow trained us well.
One time, years ago, Massio blocked off the town square on the eve of the New Year, right before midnight, when traditionally, Selnoans would gather there. Nobody was allowed in the square because he wanted to sit on the bench in front of the big Christmas tree and reflect.
“Why are Massio’s men here?” I ask, terrified of the answer.
“Those are my uncle’s men,” Connor answers.
Who is his uncle? Oh God. I think my legs might give out from fear. “Massio Crossbow is your uncle?”
“No.” Connor shakes his head.
“Hi, Dina,” one of my neighbors shouts from the terrace.
I look up to see who it is. “Hey, Martha.” I wave. “How is your cat doing?” Her cat recently fell off the roof. Poor guy.
“He’s fine. He misses you.”
