Page 59 of Mommy

I’m still staring at the spot where I last saw her, when the passenger door opens and Ezekiel falls into the empty seat.

“Who was that with Ivory?”

I can’t drag my gaze away from the house just yet, watching as the light turns on in the living space.

“Uh, Posie.”

Ivory named her that about two seconds after we got her into the car.

Not saying anything to that, Ezekiel buckles up in the passenger seat, and leans back into the head rest.

Reluctantly I put the car in reverse and back down the driveway. Part of me wishes I could stay here, with Ivy. But I know I can’t. I have to go with Ezekiel to make sure we get the right guy.

Sure, I could show him a picture, but… look-a-likes are not as rare as you’d think and I don’t want us to ever mess up like that.

I’ll be home again soon enough.

Driving through the city, I listen to Ezekiel telling me about Rosemary. She offered to let Abigail rent her old apartment.

After she moved in with Ez, she hasn’t been using it, and the extra money they could get from Abigail would go directly into their rescue.

It sounds like a good enough plan to me, and I nod along while Ezekiel finishes.

At a dark corner between two street lights we come to a halt. I cut the engine.

The tents on the other side of the street are as silent as they ever will be, but even if they weren’t I wouldn’t care. People on Skid Row don’t care for one another, they care only about themselves.

The house that lies beyond the walkway is in bad shape, but well lived in and I pray that the fucker has no family. If there are kids involved, I’m out. And I know, so is Ezekiel. Even though he’s not as fond of children as I am, he wouldn’t hurt them; not the body, not the soul.

Reaching over, I take my gun from the glove compartment and tuck it into the waistband of my jeans.

Ezekiel shakes his hand, soft laughter coming from his side of the car.

“You know, at some point a gun just won’t cut it anymore. Even a baseball bat won’t be personal enough to repay the pain that’s due.” He pulls a black ski mask from his pocket and covers his face, leaving only his eyes and dark brows visible to me.

I roll my eyes in response.

“I don’t want things to be personal Ez, I want them to be efficient.”

A gun is the most efficient and convenient way to dish out revenge or end a life. It’s clean, it’s fast and with the right knowledge it’s almost impossible to trace.

Next to me Ezekiel snorts.

“First of all, a baseball bat can be very efficient when it’s in the right hands. And also,” The corner of his lips pulls into a half grin. “I’m curious, who will shatter that illusion you have of things not being personal first: Posie or Ivory?”

A memory flashes through my head. Of the man I found leaving poisoned meatballs in the park a week ago, and of me making him eat one of them.

That definitely felt personal.

And oddly satisfying.

But I won’t admit that to Ez. Or anyone.

That’ll just stay my little secret, a slip, nothing more.

Ez gets out of the car, grabbing a baseball bat from the space between his seat and the door. Swinging it in a wide circle once, he lets it come to rest on top of his shoulder. I was so distracted by Ivory and Posie earlier, I didn’t even notice it when he got in.

Slipping my balaclava over my head, I follow Ezekiel. He howls once, the sounds echoing down the street and multiplying between abandoned cars and crooked tents.