“I agree.” Finch’s response is clear and strong, and as I glance across at him, I can see he means it.
“I’m going to call Angelo, see what intel he can gather about their current whereabouts. Because we have one advantage right now that we’ve never had before,” I point out. “Confusion. It’ll be a while before reports get out on the living and the dead. For all Maggie and Gus know, we’re ghosts.”
I look over at Finch, who’s staring out the window.
“Are you with me, angel?”
He looks back at me, fierce and formidable. “I’m always with you. Let’s go get them.”
I put in a call to our pilot, telling him there’s a change of plan. There’s a change ofallmy plans, in fact. This isn’t the way it was supposed to happen. Finch wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near when I made my attack.
But you have to play the hand you’re dealt.
I think Sonny Vegas would appreciate that sentiment, and I say a silent prayer for his soul as I drive on to the airport.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Finch
It’s cold and dark in the woods.
Luca and I are creeping through the forest I spent my childhood running through with my sisters. It's been a long time since I've been here, but I find I still recognize certain landmarks, which is good, because we need all the help we can get.
Angelo’s intelligence came through just after we landed in Boston. Gus has gone to ground, but Maggie is at Innisfree, the Donovan retreat outside Boston where the wake was held.
One stolen car from the airport long-stay parking lot and another hour’s drive later, Luca and I arrived at the summer camp on the other side of the lake from the Donovan estate. We were always told to stay away from the campsite as kids, but I'm grateful now for my childhood explorations of the woods, because it allows Luca and me another element of surprise.
Part of me wanted to call Tara, let her know what was going on, but that would only make her an accessory. She needs plausible deniability. Besides, it's one thing to know logically that someone needs to die. It's quite another thing to be a part of it.
I'm discovering that myself, as Luca and I make our way towards the house. I insisted on coming. I would've insisted even without what happened in Chicago just a few hours before now, because Maggie ismyproblem.
But I still worry that if it comes down to it, my heart will get in the way like last time and I won't be able to do it.
I guess that's why Luca is here, though.
We’re in sight of the large fence that surrounds the estate now. Luca holds up a hand so that we pause, dressed in our black tracksuits and balaclavas that we bought on the way to Innisfree. Luca was particularly concerned about my hair, and I can see his point.
The fence is high, and we know there will be guards on the perimeter, according to Angelo’s intel. So we wait there, observing. Only one guard goes by the section we’re looking at, and Luca hoists himself over the fence once the guy is far enough away. I'm strong, thanks to my regular gym visits, but I’m not as graceful as Luca. Thankfully he's there to catch me at the bottom—or land on, anyway.
He slaps a hand over my mouth as I let out anOof!and drags me behind a nearby bush.
“This would be a lot simpler if we just killed the guards,” he’d said before we arrived. But I didn’t want to do that. I don’t see why those poor bastards should die for my fool sister.
We’re here to kill one person, and one person only.
* * *
Our conversationon the private charter flight to Boston wasn’t as laughter-filled as the drive away from the bomb site. With just the two of us on the plane, and the pilot up front, I asked if Angelo or any other backup would meet us in Boston, but Luca shook his head.
“I’m not leaving this in anyone else’s hands. I want Maggie dead, and I want to kill her myself so I’m sure about it. When you want something done right—”
“Do it with your husband,” I finished for him.
He gave me a hard look. “You sure you want to be there when it happens, baby bird?”
“If you think I’m just gonna send you out to kill my sister while I sit in the car and read a fucking book or something—”
“Finch,” he said. “You’re—you’re untouched.”
