“So, this is all yours now,” she said more than asked and tipped her wineglass to the terrace far below where the others had gathered.
“Whether I like it or not.”
“You don’t like it. The more I get to know you, the more I see that.”
“And what is it you see?” Emory asked with a smile that only partially hid some hesitancy. Not everyone liked being examined that way.
“It’s like you’ve been cut from another world and pasted here,forced to live in two dimensions while the rest of you is somewhere else. An outsider to your own empire.”
Amelia wanted to go where the other parts of him existed, that place where she’d find him whole. For the time being, the closest she’d find was the balcony where Emory seemed at ease, relieved perhaps that he could drop the pretense and just be himself.
He savored a sip of bourbon, both the drink and her observation demanding a thoughtful pause.
“You’re not wrong. I’m grateful, though. As a kid, I never knew what Liam did for a living. He’d show up at my house in a blacked-out sedan. He was like a superhero, a guy people respected and feared. The night my dad died, I knew Miri and I had no home anymore, so I packed our things and got us out. With Ivan still around, I had no choice.”
Emory shrugged as if it were nothing, just a story from his past, but his shoulders tensed as he ran his fingers through his hair and continued.
“I called Liam, thought he was the only one who could protect us from Ivan, and he did. He brought me and Mirabelle here, but I knew the second I stepped outside of this world, my brother would be waiting. I was tired of feeling helpless and wanted to take my power back, so I asked Liam to let me shadow walk. He agreed but only when I turned eighteen.
“He never showed me preferential treatment. Like everyone else, I paid my dues as a street soldier. Eventually, Liam offered me a seat at the captain’s table, a small post without a ton of responsibility. I did well in that, so he put me in the post everyone wants, the one with the connections and prestige.”
“Las Vegas,” Amelia said.
Warm shadows danced across Emory’s face where a smile unfurled. He gestured to the chorus of laughter on the terrace below.
“See, you already know more than some of them.” He leaned forward, head tilted and looking an awful lot like he might wantto kiss her. She wished he would. “You get it, Amelia. You just do.”
She brimmed with glittering glee she couldn’t explain, smiling until her cheeks ached and soaring with the stars. Emory grabbed the bottle of wine and freshened her glass.
“After I had enough years in, Liam wanted to phase me into his position. He’s always treated me like a son, and I owe him my life, so it was the least I could do. When I agreed to take over, I wasn’t thinking about my future or living a simpler life.”
“And now?” Amelia asked between sips of wine.
“And now, I wouldn’t know a simple life if it fucked me seven ways to Sunday. Now, my brother is still alive, and I’m right back where I started, feeling just as powerless as the day I left home.”
He shook his head, not quite defeated but humbled perhaps. Amelia dragged her chair over to sit by his side. To think she’d once inherited her father’s beliefs of Emory, a man who navigated the underworld but preserved the best parts of himself, the ones Amelia saw so clearly were good and honest and worthy. She finally found the words to say if that phone ever rang again.
Hi Dad. You never knew him. You never will.
“What happens next?” Amelia asked haltingly. Mirabelle had warned her not to pry, but the charade of normalcy couldn’t last forever.
“I find Ivan and kill him unless he kills me first,” Emory replied with dark laughter, but Amelia witnessed the fear of failure grow in him.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” she said and placed her hand on his forearm.
Emory stared at her, utterly mystified, it seemed. She didn’t blame him. What the hell could she do against Ivan? It didn’t matter. The thought must’ve counted for something because Emory patted his chest with a smile as if taming his heart.
“Thunderbolt?” she asked and pulled her knees onto the chair. It brought her closer to him.
Emory nodded. “Thunderbolt.”
“Okay, pretend a simple lifedidfuck you seven ways toSunday,” she said, her chin propped against the heel of her hand. “What does it look like?”
Emory settled in his seat and contemplated the question.
“Well, I’d make an honest living. I’d settle down somewhere I can see the stars at night. Maybe up north with lots of trees, at the end of a road so it’s quiet and secluded, somewhere I can sleep well. Find someone to love forever, just me and her.”
His eyes met hers before dropping to his empty glass. Amelia fetched the bourbon bottle and poured him some more.
