“Jesus,” probie whispers, looking like he’s just seen a ghost.
Manny swallows.
Joey clenches his fists at his sides.
Jax just stares at Marcus, almost angrily, as if Marcus is the one responsible for all this. I’d be curious about why Jax seems so hostile to the detective, but at the moment, my mind’s a little preoccupied. Some guy wants us all dead apparently. That’ll keep you wide awake, let me tell ya.
“Anyway,” Marcus continues, “this has to be the guy responsible for the slew of recent fires. And as I mentioned before, those fires have been set to buildings with structural issues. In short, he’s burning buildings that he believes will come crashing down on your heads.”
The room’s starting to feel pretty damn small. I exhale slowly, trying to control my breathing. I feel hot. A little nauseous. I almost run out of the office. Part of me wants to grab Kailee and hit the road. Not tell a soul where I’m going. I close my eyes for a second. Marcus keeps talking.
“Most likely he knows his attempts on y’all’s lives have failed. So he’s getting bolder. Coming at ya directly.”
I glance at Dennis. His expression doesn’t give much away, but for a cool customer like Dennis, the look of unease might as well be one of downright terror.
Manny’s restless movements catch my eye. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go knock this asshole’s door down like a SWAT team,” Manny says. He looks around the room to see who’s with him, his eyes burning with an intensity I’ve never seen in them before.
“Now you’re talking, Manito. Yo, detective,” Joey adds. “Give us five minutes alone with the guy before you arrest him. You know, just to . . . talk things out.”
“Believe me, DeStefano, I would. But our boy ain’t home. He knows we’re hot on his heels and there’s currently a manhunt in progress. As soon as we track down his sorry ass, y’all will be the first to know. Till then, I strongly advise each of you to find somewhere else to sleep. He knows y’all’s addresses, and at this point, with his back against the wall, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“How can we protect our homes if we’re not home?” Jax asks, not looking too happy. I know he’s thinking more about Julia than his physical house. One can be replaced, the other cannot. Jax is crazy about Julia. Muscles or not, deep down Jax is a dork—and I say that with love—but yeah, I sorta get the feeling he thinks Julia’s way out of his league and still can’t really believe his luck. I mean, she sorta is. Not that I’ve noticed how attractive she is or anything.
Marcus looks at Jax and the only hint of returned hostility is a ripple in the detective’s temple. “We got officers patrolling—”
“But you don’t have someone watching our homes at all times?” Jax says.
Marcus takes a moment to gather himself. “No. We don’t. But we’re doing the best we can with the resources we have. And look, instead of risking you and your family’s lives for a chance to play the hero, I suggest you find a comfortable hotel, where you don’t have to sleep with one eye open. That way you won’t be half-asleep on the job, which is when this city really needs you to be a hero.”
Gotta hand it to the detective; he’s persuasive. Even Jax is swayed, though his pride is making it hard for him to admit it. He’s meeting the detective’s eyes, his jaw set, his wheels turning. “Fine”, he says. He knows Marcus is right. It would be crazy for any of us to stay at home under current circumstances. Like a bunch of sitting ducks. The thought of anything happening to Kailee . . . I will die a thousand deaths before I let anyone harm my little girl.
What a mess. First Laci decides to reenter my life in the worst way imaginable. Now this. If it wasn’t for Penelope, I might start to think the man upstairs had it in for me. I’ll be honest, the real reason I can relate so easily to Jax thinking Julia’s outta his league is . . . well, I feel the same way about Penelope. I keep expecting her to realize I’m not good enough for her. Then again, I’m not sure any man is good enough for her. Maybe some combination of men. Brad Pitt’s head, Einstein’s brain, Dwayne Johnson’s body. It’s funny the weirdness your brain cooks up when you’ve just been told some lunatic wants to barbecue you in your own home.
We shuffle out, and I happen to be the last one to leave Marcus’s office. The detective places a hand on my shoulder. “I heard your ex is trying to get custody of your daughter.”
How does he know about that?
“Chicago’s a smaller world than you might think. Lawyers, cops, judges—we’re all part of one big messed up, incestuous family.”
I don’t really know what to say to that. The detective clears his throat again. “Anyway, man, that’s gotta be tough. I faced a similar situation some years back. Hang in there. And don’t believe that bullcrap about judges always favoring mothers in these kinds of cases. It’s a myth.”
I hadn’t even been thinking about that . . . till now. Now I damn wellwillworry about it though.
Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate that.”
“Of course, my man.” Marcus taps me on the shoulder. I can feel how powerful he is from the simple gesture. “All right then, take care of yourself, you hear?”
“I will. Thanks for looking out for our crew.”
“Don’t mention it. Y’all are my boys. Oh, and if you want some inspiration, watchKramer vs. Kramer. Dustin Hoffman’s courtroom monologue will get you in the feels.”
“Never seen it. But I’ll check it out.”
“Do it, man. It’s a classic.”
Walking down the hall, I feel strangely numb. Like I’m sleepwalking. I realize I forgot to ask Marcus what the outcome of his ‘similar situation’ was. Did he win his custody battle?
Queasiness sets in when I realize that if he had, he’d have told me. But I’m guessing he didn’t get the happy ending he wanted. After all, life ain’t a movie, much as we want it to be.
