“His daddy did that,” those kids whispered, not knowing that Ivan, even at twelve, was a holy terror. Emory’s father, on the other hand, was a gentle giant who couldn’t raise hell if he wanted.
Ivan expertly preserved the outward veneer of intellect and navigated the world with sly duplicity. His sleight of hand fooled everyone, even their mother. She created a smoke and mirrors show, wrote the script with self-told lies, and applauded even the most basic deeds.
Ivan could shit his pants on that stage of grand delusion, and it’d earn their mother’s standing ovation. Ivan pulled the wool over countless eyes, all but Emory, who saw in his brother a distorted pastiche that hid a monster.
“Does Ivan scare you?” Jack asked one night when they were boys camping out in his backyard and having gone quiet with bellies full of s’mores.
Emory had picked at the tacky remnants of marshmallow on his stick.
“Yeah. Mostly for my sister.”
His confession had come harder than the hits he endured from Ivan. Sweet Mirabelle followed him and Jack around like a lost puppy with her pink tutu, mussed-up hair in pigtails, and a stuffed dolly under her arm.
She clung to Emory like salt on a pretzel and wailed the nights he spent at Jack’s. Where Emory went, Mirabelle was never far behind.
Emory came to the Moriartys with no family to forsake other than her and Jack. With his parents both dead, he’d disowned his brother by then. He didn’t need a brother when he had Jack and even told him that the night they shadow walked together.
“Ivan’s a stranger to me. You’re my true brother, always have been.”
“Then I’ll follow you to the end,” Jack had replied, their bond sacrosanct well before that night. “Until the world burns out and there’s nothing left but darkness.”
Emory glanced at Jack, who blew smoke out the side of his mouth and laughed. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about old times.”
Jack flicked his cigarette into the darkness. “You think too goddamn much. What does it get you?”
“More problems,” Liam chimed in and patted Emory’s back.
They soughtrefuge in the mansion, the house warm compared to the night’s subtle chill. The men descended on the kitchen filled with the savory scents of Emory’s childhood. Mirabelle outdid herself with a feast that would’ve made their mother proud.
On the kitchen island, she’d laid out steaming bowls of white rice and pink beans; a caldero of pollo guisado, a hearty chicken stew; and Emory’s favorite dish—mashed plantains served with fried pork.
The men ate like kings then retired to the basement lounge where they’d celebrate well into the night. Jack and Emory would join eventually but retreated to the parlor first, where Emory settled in his normal spot, a sofa against the far wall.
Across the room, Jack flopped into an armchair with his legs dangling over the side. They sat in companionable silence as the clock in the corner kept time.
“Thinking again?” Jack teased.
Emory nodded and chewed his lip. Everyone had invisibletripwires, the things that set them off. Like all else, he laid his down in parallel pattern easy for others to heed. Those lines were in disarray, a crisscrossed mess that tied him up in knots.
Jack tip-toed the line and went in easy.
“You think Amelia will talk?”
Emory exhaled a laugh so caustic, he was liable to choke on it, and he’d snap his jaw if it clenched any tighter. All the fucking mess—the agony, the explanations, the logistics to pull it off on a goddamn whim—and for what? For her to sit there with her haughty recalcitrance.
Emory boiled on the inside but put a pin in it.
“She’s lying to me.”
“I’m sure you can get her to open up,” Jack said with a wink and a bawdy smile.
If Amelia had intended to melt into Dauer’s wallpaper and go unnoticed, she’d done a piss-poor job of it. Emory had noticed her immediately. What wasn’t there to notice?
Long legs, perfect body, gorgeous face with big brown eyes and pouty lips.
As Emory got his looks, Jack had savored delivering a bit of trivia—the smoke show across the room was Cal Havick’s daughter. Just his luck, but not entirely a lost cause. Amelia Havick had a reputation, after all.
