He pauses on the steps to the house. “And now you have, and it’s off your chest and in my heart.”
I join him there. “Hang on to that feeling, because I’m about to put a bullet in your heart. Where’s the letter?”
“On her desk.”
I reach for my weapon. It’s gone. Miro holds out my gun and flashes me a smile. “This woman makes you do crazy things. I took your gun and left the letter on her desk. And now we’re going to drink and watch Lassie reruns until morning. Lake’s going to mail the letter, and then you can read it. Hell, we’ll steal it from her mailbox.”
“What if she doesn’t mail it?”
“She will.”
“How can you be sure?”
“On the back, it’s sealed with a kiss.” He air kisses me, then opens the door but closes it quicky again when the dog barks from the backyard.
Shoot. Forgot the food. I grab the doggy burger from the car, and we enter the house. Lake’s dog is a large mix of some sort. He’s friendly and wags his tail. I toss his burger into the yard so he can eat and go home whenever he wants.
“There’s no furniture in here,” Miro says from the living room.
“I’m a minimalist.” I close the back door.
“Since when?”
I shrug.
Miro walks down the hallway and into the bedroom, then comes right back out, holding up my bed.
“A sleeping bag?” He drops it on the living room floor and pulls out his phone, checking the time before he dials someone.
“Mayday, Mayday,” he says into the phone. “Alessio crashed.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” Living a simple existence away from the island has allowed the managers of my business more control over it, which has been great for me and for them. Niksha has taken over some of my more delicate dealings, and I hope it gives him enough of a thrill that he can quit working for the intelligence agency, since they’re about to send him on an undercover operation that’s almost guaranteed to cost him his life.
I want him to disappear. I want him safe.
Miro puts the phone on the counter and my sister on the speaker. I pour Miro and myself each a whiskey. He takes his with soda and ice, but I don’t have any, so he pinches his nose before drinking a sip. Contrary to popular opinion, the fiercest men in the world don’t take their whiskey neat. They take it any way they like it.
When he hangs up, I ask, “What do you think is in the letter?”
FIFTY
GO HOME, ALESSIO
Alessio
Lake never mailed the letter. The next day, my sister had her babies. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend time with them since I don’t know where Val’s life will take her and if her babies’ daddy is going to survive my wrath or not.
With Leo in the house and my sister busy with newborns, I was needed at home.
Besides, Lake is over me. She’s moving on and seems to enjoy her job at the local college.
I’m not the kind of man who accepts defeat easily, but I’m intimately familiar with the laws of power, and I know when I must retreat. On my way to the airport, I pass by her house and realize that the part of me only Lake could reach has died.
But I noticed the city sent someone to fix the streetlight.
FIFTY-ONE
THE LETTER
