“I don’t know how much longer we can stay here,” I whispered to them.
Santo stood, handing me one of the fancy glasses. Once it was in my hands, he filled it. “I’m guessing this wasn’t in your plans,” he said with a smile. “I’m joking, obviously. I know it wasn’t.”
“I called the number,” Rocco said, turning the hilt of a blade over in his hands. “It didn’t lead anywhere other than an automated line. We think it might’ve been Sanctum.”
“Which would be awful,” the youngest, Tomaso said, almost dropping his glass on the table. “We use Sanctum’s services. We can’t go against them.”
“You’ve used them to help you wash large amounts of money,” I grumbled, sipping the scotch. It was old, expensive stuff. “Sanctum brought me in on the condition they weren’tsome morally bankrupt agency. But it looks like they’re happy to be bought by the highest bidder.” I didn’t have my usual person, Donovan, to speak things through with. He always knew how to go about things, just like I always knew how he should go about things. If only I could put myself in his shoes to spit out some advice.
“We’re happy to keep any information about you out of state,” Santo said. “And you asked about forgers. I’ve got a guy. He does mostly permits, but he could get you and Ezra new licenses.
I nodded. “I’ve got the cash,” I told him, shotting the scotch now. “Whatever you need, I’ve got it. Whatever you want, just let me know. We need to think of a way out. Whatever the Feds are doing—” I watched as all three of them got their backs up over the word. “It’s not happening soon enough. And I don’t want to deal with them. So, if we can get out of town under new names before then, I’ll be grateful.”
“And what about the manhunt happening for you?” Rocco said, shining the ceiling light on in my face using his knife. “You want some plastic surgery too?”
“Fuck no. I can deal with that. Plus, the picture they’re using of me is when I was younger, fresh out of the army with a fucking crew cut.” I didn’t have a lot of hair now, but it was longer than it had been. “So, we need fake IDs, and all the documents we need to set up a new life.”
They poured more scotch into my glass and we cheersed to it.
***
Ezra was awake when I got into bed—it scared me a little, to hear him talk out of nowhere. “I heard you,” he whispered. I wondered if I was hallucinating it from the bottle of scotchwe’d cleared. He yanked on my shoulder, pulling my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me we were going to get new identities?” The only light we had was from the dull orange bulb in the hallway peering in through the doorjamb.
I groaned. “It was supposed to be a Christmas present.”‘
He was all giggles. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I spoiled it, didn’t I?”
“No, kitten, you’ve got every right to know the plan,” I slurred my words at him. “I’m sorry this is what we’re going to have to do. It’s not like we have much choice anymore.”
He laid his head on me. “Do I get to choose my name?” he asked. “And do we get to go back to Sugar Bay?”
“We can—” I was so tired that even his words were melting in my ears. “Do whatever you want.”
His warm hands travelled through my chest hair, playing with my nipples. We’d been much more playful ever since we came together, and ever since we were on the run. Parts of him had changed. There were parts of him I wondered if we’d lose along the way. He was much sassier and even quicker to stress. I liked toruboff on him, but I didn’t want to turn him into the same monster I’d once become.
“I love you, you know that, right?” I told him. “I’d do anything for you.”
“I’d do anything for you too,” he said, flipping his head, and now he was downstream from my alcohol breath. “If I’d known this whole thing would blow up, I don’t think I would’ve done it.” He sniffled.
“Baby.” I sat upright, letting his head fall all the way down to my waist in the sheets. He liked his time there. “You shouldn’t regret what you did.”
“I do,” he said, pushing himself out of my lap. “I know I’m going to save so many lives by testifying and giving theinformation, but this is all so much, and people are going to think I’m the bad person.”
I shook my head and reached out for his face, the slight orange hue from the hallway light leaking in as my guide. “You should never feel bad about doing what’s best,” I told him. “Even if people paint you as the villain, the enemy, the monster, the killer, whatever people want to call you. It only effects you if you let it. It only hurts you if you put the knife in.”
His breathing was loud and shallow. “I’m not a bad person.”
“No, kitten, you’re not.” I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. “You’re not a bad person.”
I wasn’t sure if we should escape now. If we left, the case would be dismissed, the evidence they had was useless without Ezra, his position, his recorded chain of custody. That was the solid part of it all. And I was the kidnapper, the force of the evil, when in reality, the billionaire pharma tech, Victor Pemberton, was being hailed for hisbreakthroughsand for his charitable contributions. Good PR was everything. And he had it.
“Do you want to stay?” I asked him. “Do you want to stay and fight this?”
“If you—if you think we can win.”
“That’s not the issue. I know we can win. I know we can. But we’re going to be targets. We’re going to be pushed to the limit. They’re going to hurl abuse at you. Everyone is going to be mean, kitten, and—” I squeezed him tighter in my arms. “I don’t want you to become mean from it.”
“I won’t,” he said, his breath still hitching. There was now a wetness on my arms from where he’d quietly sobbed against my skin. “But I’ll have to say something if they keep saying you stole me from FBI custody.”
