“…Sev’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
Malek raised his head and stared up at the darkening sky. “We were raised to be killers. Even if it wasn’t specifically our job. We were raised to spit in the face of Death, and take the world however we saw fit. There’s power in that. I used to blow my load over that high…I just never wanted it. Never asked for it. You can be born to be naturally good at something. It might not even be something youwantto do…but you can even enjoy it sometimes. I like killin’, Declan. I love it, really. But creatin’ new life? That’s a whole different high, dude.” He smiled to himself. “There’s power in that too. I find myself wanting that more. Not because I’m bitter about the past, or the fact that I’m becoming a marshmallow…but I want it withher.”
I think I realized right then that I understood it on a completely different level. The kind of love he has for Seven Grey…is the same kind I have for his sister. The infuriating, ever-changing, do anything required, kind of love that makes everything else seem shit in comparison. This is why she’s distant. It’s why she’s on the run. She feels it too…and she won’t allow herself to have it because of this fucking marriage.
“We won’t let anything happen to you guys. Bridget doesn’t even know I’ve been helping her. She’s not by herself,Malek. Neither are you. They always underestimated us, and clearly that hasn’t changed. The house disbanded. The only difference between us and the O’Dells…is that they’re dead and we’re fucking not. Go build your family. Make it bigger. Do what you said you’d do and live your life the way you want it. Let us keep the torch for now.”
He side-eyed me, lowering his brows with a smirk…the one I know well. “You takin’ Sev’s torch too?”
“We hid plenty of bodies before your Pops made that golden call. Don’t worry about it. My kill. My problem. Get outta here and go spill your seed.”
“Gag.” He flipped me off and rolled his eyes while he kicked the gravel the whole way to his car.
“Hey Mal?” He stopped short, turning as he wound his fingers around his door handle. “This particular cure for itch should last a while. If it doesn’t…please consult your physician.”
“You’re such a dick.”
My grin kept until he was out of sight, and I tracked Bridget still at Simon’s. I have a plan. It’s time my Little Doe ‘fessed up and I’m too wired to calm down. I don’t give a shit whatever clever tale she’s cooked up with Mister Frodo. Tonight’s the night. I stood in the doorway of the unit and jerked my chin at Dan.
“Come on, soldier. I’m upgradin’ you. I fully expect to see room service and spa days on this fucking bill. Get comfortable…this is your official ‘thank you’ for your service.”
Dan hung his head. “I can’t.”
“You will. What’d I say about your chin? And if you fight me, I’ll make sure they make you look like a Backstreet Boy. Let’s ride.”
CHAPTER 9
The Princess
I’ve finally got my adrenaline and nerves under control after the events I wasn’t expecting earlier. We stashed the safety deposit bag in a locked drawer at Simon’s office, and now I’m laying across his hideous floral print couch with a hand dragging his carpet and a leg hanging over the arm. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted. Working class sucks. Simon waddled around the edge of the couch, and I looked up at him, realizing how much creepier he looks upside down. He reached a steaming mug towards me.
“This not therapy. Drink. Go home.”
I rolled my eyes and sat up, swiveling around to take the mug. “What the hell is this? It smells like acandle.” He sipped from his own while he eased himself down in his little rocking chair and stared at me. I sniffed my mug again and took a careful sip.
“Chamomile. Good. Drink.”
“You put on one hell of a front, Mr. Miyagi. I’ll give ya that. All you need is a sweater vest and some bedroom slippers and nobody would ever suspect you’re Hannibal Lecter.”
“Who?”
“Nevermind.”
I glanced around at all his vintage crap in his living room. Malek had once said the getaway house in Rockport where they took me and Sev was like being in a time warp. It definitely was. This is the same. Old record player. Box television with a brass dial on the front and two gargantuan antennas. A radio that probably dates back to the 60’s. My brother probably had the time of his life staying here when he wasn’t moping over Sev.Or it was the opposite and maybe that’s why he snagged that little duplex apartment in Fort George. I, on the other hand, am wholly uncomfortable. Simon finished off his tea while I let the mug warm my palms.
“News vague. You safe. No one know.”
I nodded, staring down at the oriental rug. “Thank you, Simon. For everything.”
“Shamrock need to know.”
“Absolutely not. Especially not now. He’s got way more to lose, and so does Seven.” Simon’s bushy eyebrows raised.
“Miss Black havebaby?” It might be the first time Simon hasn’t seemed like a creepy bloke. His face warmed with something like pride. I don’t like it. It must have shown on me. He promptly shook himself like a dog trying to rid itself of excess water. “Not matter.”
I grinned. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody you’re a secret softy.”
“Disgusting.”
