I’m already scooping up my backpack and heading for the elevator. “I’m on my way.”
It takes twenty-five minutes in city traffic to get from MacTavish International to the turnoff into the posh neighborhood the MacTavish estate dominates.
I make it in sixteen.
I push my jeep faster than is safe for this winding road, but Mom sounded terrified. What could have possibly happened?
When I pull up to the back gate of the MacTavish mansion, I know something’s going on. Something serious. The amount of guards is nearly double and no one is smiling.
“Hey, Angus,” I roll down my window, trying to smile at the guard coming up to my car. “Is everything okay?”
“Did ye notice anyone following ye here, lass?” He’s looking in my back seat as another guard runs a mirror to check the underside of my jeep.
“No.” I shrug helplessly. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I’m sorry. I was in a hurry to get home.”
His gaze sharpens. “Why?”
“To see Mom?” I hate that it sounds like a question.
“Very well, then. In ye get.” Angus waves me through the gate. There’s staff parking just a bit behind our cottage, so it doesn’t take me long to rush into the house.
She’s sitting in the kitchen, staring blankly out the window. Her normally tidy bun is sideways, bits of hair sprouting out and her skin is gray.
“Mom, what's wrong?” Her head turns to look at me, she’s staring like she doesn’t recognize me. “You're scaring me, here.” I dump my backpack on the table and sit next to her, taking her hands. “What happened?”
Like a dam breaking, she starts sobbing so hard that I can barely understand her. “I've done something horrible, sweetheart. Something I can't take back.”
“You can tell me anything, you know that! Whatever it is, we'll fix it okay?”
“I need to- I have to explain. It will make more sense if I explain,” she stammers.
“Okay, I’m listening,” I squeeze her hands, suddenly not wanting to hear it. Childishly, I don’t want to know. I have a sickening certainty that whatever she tells me is going to change everything for the worse.
“I haven't been honest with you about our past,” she says, wiping the back of her hands against her wet eyes in a motion that breaks my heart. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true. Your father wasn't a lawyer. He was the head of the Graves Mafia back in San Francisco. He and your brother weremurdered. I ‘m sure it was his second in command, Robert Taylor, who ordered it.”
It’s like reality just turned sideways as I try to understand what she's just told me. I’ve always known there was more to why we left San Francisco so quickly and moved abroad. Even a ten year old knows something’s not right when my last name is suddenly different from the one on my passport and I’m told never to use our real one again.
But… My mouth is moving silently, like a goldfish, trying to make this make sense.
“Dad ran amafia?Like the MacTavishes? How could this... Do the MacTavishes know?”
“Oh my god, no!” Mom gasps. “They never would have hired me. That scum Robert found us in Italy, that's why we had to run. I thought hiding behind another Mafia would keep us safe.” She laughs bitterly. “It worked for ten years, anyway. I’d hoped that he'd given up looking for us ages ago.”
I vaguely remember Robert. He never came to the house, but I’d seen him a couple of times when I visited Dad at work. Shorter, sandy-colored hair and a mean little smile, like he knew the punchline to a joke I wouldn’t understand.
“So that car accident…” I ask numbly. “That wasn’t an accident at all. That’s why you changed our names. Why we had to leave so fast.”
She nods, her head down and hands compulsively smoothing her dress over her knees. I do that too, when I’m feeling overwhelmed.
“What happened?” A sickening thought hits me. “Did he find us again?” I put my arm around her, squeezing tight and it seems to give her strength.
“Yes. Robert got to me when I was shopping a couple of weeks ago. He pulled me into a car and pointed a gun at me. He told me that he knew where you were every minute of the day. He h- had men following you. He told me that he wanted information about a shipping deal the MacTavishes were doing with a Japanese mafia.”
She cries harder and I rest my forehead against hers. She’s been carrying this secret foryears,and that bastard used me against her.
Mom looks at me sadly. “I got a little information for him, I hoped it wouldn’t be enough. The deal went wrong, very wrong. Xenia and Georges have been in the mansion all morning. They’re tracking every possible breach in the MacTavish intelligence system.”
Oh,shit.“Did you send him the information on a MacTavish device?” I wheeze.
