32. A Reality Check
32
A Reality Check
Tony
This is gonna be another fucking warehouse. I just know it.
When Agatha and Nettie met us at the hangar, I knew something bad had happened.
Darius, not always the most observant guy when he’s feeling a certain way, made a beeline for Nettie, but she put a hand up, stopping him in his tracks. “Not now.”
Frowning, he looks between Nettie and Agatha before turning his gaze to Mickey. “What happened?”
“Walk and talk, big guy,” Agatha retorts, already walking toward a waiting SUV. “Where’s Declan?”
“He stayed behind with Camilla and Kaian,” Matt answers. “We didn’t want Jessica, Issa, Carolina, and Flora left on their own.”
We all cram into the vehicle, and Nettie frowns, her arms crossing over her chest. “Flora is there?”
“Yes. With everything going on, Carolina went and retrieved her. Better to stay in small groups until everything settles down.”
“She must be so big now,” Nettie says quietly, her sad eyes meeting mine.
I rest my hand on her arm. “You’ll see for yourself soon, Nettie.”
Darius grunts from the other side of Nettie. I glance at him, laughing at the glare he’s giving my hand that’s still resting on Nettie’s arm. Stroking a bit more vigorously than I normally would, his scowl deepens, his eyes jumping to mine and immediately narrowing as he realizes what I’m doing. I’ve definitely missed fucking with him.
Straightening in my seat, I say, “Okay, fill us in.”
“Well,” Agatha answers from her seat between Matt and Mickey in the front. “Antonio went off to stick it to his old man and, in the process, got himself Darius’d.”
Darius makes a face. “He got himself what?”
Agatha twists around so she can see him as she says, “Got Darius’d. You know. Kidnapped.”
Nettie snorts, and Darius squints in response, shaking his head. “Very funny.”
“It is pretty funny,” I add helpfully, earning a giggle from Nettie that has Darius turning his glare onto her. She gives him a sweet smile, and he instantly thaws, nudging her with his elbow.
“Anyway, Lilith got an anonymous text with a location, so she went on ahead, and we’re supposed to go get them.”
“Why would she go alone?”
“That was part of the instructions.”
I groan and then rub my hands over my face. “I swear you all go out of your way to make my life more difficult.”
“Says the man who also got himself Darius’d at his own wedding and had to be rescued from being incinerated alive.”
I turn my narrowed eyes on Nettie, who gives me a close-lipped smile and waggles her brows. “Touché,” is all I say in response.
“Oh,” Nettie says nonchalantly. “And Dmitri escaped.”
My blood instantly runs cold. “He what ?”
“He escaped,” Nettie repeats as if she didn’t detect the rhetorical sarcasm in my tone. “When we first arrived, we were made aware of some uninvited guests. By the time we investigated and made it back, he was gone.”
Again, I groan, this time pressing my fingers against my temples and forcing myself to take some calming breaths. “So, not only do we have to go in and rescue Lilith and Antonio, but we have to do so while watching our backs.”
“I don’t think he’ll be a problem.”
My wide eyes fly to Nettie, who’s looking out the window as if she didn’t just say the dumbest fucking thing ever. “Are you for real right now?”
She turns her head toward me. “What?”
“He won’t be a problem? Is that what you just said to us?”
“He promised he’d never hurt me again,” she explains with a shrug. “That means he won’t do anything to anyone else if it would also hurt me.”
“What the fuck, Antoinette?” Darius growls, his hands fisting in his lap.
Nettie turns her focus to Darius, glaring as she responds, “Don’t you fucking start.”
“I will fucking start.”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t get to have an opinion on something you know nothing about.”
Darius stares at her, wild-eyed, but then his expression shifts, and he turns his gaze out the window. His hands relax, and he rubs his palms on the tops of his thighs almost nervously. He looks off, a disorganized alternate-universe version of Darius that I am not at all comfortable with.
Nettie continues to stare straight ahead, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw set in a stubborn line I know all too well. Rolling my own eyes, I nudge her side with my elbow. Her head turns, eyebrows lifted in question as if she doesn’t know why I’m nudging her. I meet her gaze, then give a very pointed look toward Darius before meeting her eyes once more.
Shaking her head slightly, she squints, her lips twisting as she quite obviously ignores my pointed look. So, I poke her a few times in the side. “Don’t think you can ignore me, Nettie.”
“You’re being an asshole, Tony,” she mutters as she slaps my hands away.
I lean in close and whisper, “And you’re being a bitch.”
She gasps in outrage. “How dare you—“
“Nope,” I interrupt heatedly. “I love you both, and I’m not the type of guy who sits back and lets anyone shit all over someone he loves. So, stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and fix this.’
“I’m not—“
“Yes, you fucking are,” I interrupt again, this time a bit more loudly than intended. I stop speaking for a moment, forcing myself to rein in my anger, and then I add quietly, “You’re hurting him, and you’re hurting yourself. And if you can’t see that, then you came back from wherever the fuck you were a lot dumber than you left.”
She gapes at me, eyes sparking with anger. For a moment, I second-guess myself and consider toning it down and attempting to soften the blow. But then, she blinks, revealing that glimmer of uncertainty, that speck of fear she’s trying to bury beneath obstinance.
Agatha watches me from the front, turned toward me in the typical conspicuous Agatha fashion. She gives me a short nod, so I turn back to Nettie and say, “I won’t pretend to know how you feel. I won’t pretend to have firsthand experience on how fucked up you’re likely feeling right now, but let’s not forget that I’m married to a woman who knows. I’m married to a woman who knows and shares and allows me the honor of helping her in any capacity available to me because that’s what we do for the people we cherish. We listen.
“Now, I won’t insult you by trying to downplay what you went through. But I will remind you that you’re not the only one who suffered and that regardless of how fucked over you’ve felt over the past few months, you’re not fucking alone now. You do not have to carry this on your own anymore, so what you’re choosing to do right now is exactly that: a choice.”
She’s glaring at me now, but I don’t give a fuck. Darius is still staring out the window, doing a shit job of pretending he can’t hear every word I’ve said. He’s wearing that annoying ambivalent mask that he honed over decades, and I want to leap over Nettie and wipe it off his face with my fists.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this bullshit lecture, but—“
“Fucking stop it, Nettie. Just stop it right now. Stop trying to pretend everything is alright. Stop trying to carry on as if nothing has changed because everything has fucking changed, but we don’t have to let it fucking win. And for the love of fuck, stop torturing Darius for sport. You’ve been a lot of things in your life, but you’ve never been unnecessarily cruel, so stop lying to yourself, stop lying to us, and be for fucking real right now.”
“What…” she begins, then stops. Her lips quiver, and the anger fades from her eyes as she shakes her head. “No. I’m not.”
Raising my brows at her, I nod, then lift my chin toward Darius, who’s still staring out the window as if he’s in a car with strangers. She looks at me for a few long moments, then slowly turns her gaze on Darius. Her arms uncross, her hands suspended in front of her as the fight slowly evaporates, and then she places her hand on top of Darius’s, where he’s still rubbing his palms along the tops of his thighs.
He stops the nervous movement but doesn’t turn toward her, his blank expression still directed out the window. She squeezes his hand, leaning slightly into him as she whispers, “Darius?”
I can’t see Nettie’s face, but Agatha looks away just as Darius’s head turns, and the expression on his face as his eyes meet hers has me feeling better about my decision to be a giant fucking asshole.
He says nothing, but his eyes say everything that needs to be said. Agony. Despair. Love. Her breath catches, a quiet sob of anguish breaking free, and then she reaches for him, her hand just touching his face.
His eyes close as her fingertips stroke lightly along his brow. She leans in closely, her lips brushing his cheek as she murmurs, “I will never choose to leave you. Never.”
He grabs her hand with his, holding her fingers against his skin. His eyes open, the jagged edge of pain and uncertainty evident as their eyes lock. She reaches down with her free hand, unbuckles her seatbelt, then twists on the seat to face him fully, her legs hooking over his as she gets as close as possible in the tight space.
Gripping his head with both hands, she yanks him down, and his arm automatically comes around her, his hand squeezing her hip tightly. Nettie presses her face into his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she clutches at him. “Never. Never. Never.”
Sighing in relief, I turn away, only to find Agatha smiling at me. “Good job, sport.”
I give her a half-hearted smile. “Someone had to do it.”
“What gave her way?”
“What do you mean?”
“She was doing a fair job keeping Darius at arm’s length. What made you think she wasn’t content continuing in that manner?’
Now I do smile, motioning toward Nettie with my elbow as I say, “She’s still wearing that fucker’s shirt.”
Agatha glances at Nettie, eyes widening as she recognizes the T-shirt she handed her not too long ago. Meeting my eyes again, Agatha mutters, “How very observant of you.”
I shrug and wave her off. Darius and Nettie continue to speak quietly, their soft murmurs and the low rustle of clothing from their embrace oddly comforting as Mickey drives us slowly through the city streets.
Eventually, Nettie returns to her seat, buckling in, and pats me on the arm. I wave her off, too, and she nudges me with her shoulder affectionately before settling back in, her hand on Darius’s lap, gripping his hand tightly.
Wanting to change the subject, I face forward and ask, “So, what do we have for weapons?”
Mickey meets my gaze in his rear-view mirror, grinning broadly as he replies, “All of it.”
“You’re my hero, Mick,” I respond honestly, happy not to be entirely outnumbered and outgunned for once in our damn lives.
“Matt, you got eyes on the location?”
Matt nods, then replies, “Local authorities will be on a delayed response, and initial respondents will be of the cleanup variety.”
“How the fuck do you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“How do you have all these people willing to do whatever you want at a moment’s notice?”
Matt turns to look at me, his smile exceedingly smug as he responds, “Decades of strategic planning, relationship building, and a fuck ton of IOUs at the ready.”
“I always knew there was a method to your anal-retentive boring bullshit,” Darius chimes in, already appearing more at ease.
“As if you have any business calling me boring,” Matt quips.
Darius smiles, the first genuine grin I’ve seen on him in what feels like eons, and I suddenly find myself staring out the window, hiding my grin.
Because we’re back, and this is it. The fucking moment.
“So, what time is it, then?” Nettie asks, pulling me from my brief epiphany. I turn to meet her gaze, that knowing smile sending adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Well, now, since you asked,” I retort smoothly, “it’s fuck-around time.”
She smiles brightly, leaning over and nudging me with her shoulder again. I return her smile, grateful for the tiny moment of familiarity in this otherwise fucked-up situation.
“Motherfucker,” Matt spits out, drawing my attention to the front of the vehicle. “This is bad. This is really fucking bad.”
“What?” I ask hurriedly, unable to keep the urgency from my voice.
Matt ignores me, his eyes on Mickey as he asks, “How far are we from their supposed location?”
Mickey squints at his screen. “Maybe twenty, assuming this is the actual location.”
“Why?” Darius asks heatedly. “What’s going on?”
Matt holds his tablet up. Showing a dim room filled with people. “Found this on the dark web.”
Antoinette leans forward, peering intently at the screen. “What the fuck is that?”
“According to the description, it’s where Antonio Rossi and Lilith Ferro pay their restitution for their many crimes.”
“Pay how?” I ask quietly, worried I already know the answer.
Matt cranes his head to look at me. “Skin and blood.”
“Fuck,” Mickey spits out, his foot pressing down on the accelerator. “How much time is on it?”
“Not much.”
“What are they doing?” Antoinette asks, her voice shaking a little.
Matt’s lips twist, but after a moment, he responds, “They’re definitely at the skin part of the plan.”
Agatha takes Matt’s tablet, examining the screen closely before handing it back. “What’s the clock counting down to?”
“The clock is counting down?” Mickey asks, panic lacing his voice, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.
“Yes,” Matt whispers.
“Time?”
Matt doesn’t answer at first, his eyes glued to the screen, so Agatha leans close to him, her jaw clenching a few times before finally answering, “Two minutes.”
“What happens when the clock runs out?” Antoinette asks hesitantly, likely because she already knows but wants someone to tell her differently.
We let silence be our answer.
Mickey drives like a mad man, but we know we won’t beat the clock. The faint din of the crowd on the screen is an odd echo throughout the eerily quiet vehicle, and we all strain to hear something, anything from the two at center stage.
A loud bang is heard in the distance, followed by even louder shouting, and Matt holds the screen closer to his face, horror in his eyes as chaos erupts.
Then it goes quiet, and Matt shouts, “No. Fuck. Fuck.”
“What happened?” Antoinette yells from beside me.
Matt turns his panicked eyes to her as he responds, “The clock stopped.”
The tension in the vehicle is palpable, all of us doing our best not to assume the worst based on our many experiences. It’s not over until there is actual proof it is over.
“We’re here.” Mickey stops outside a nondescript building, and we’re all stepping out of the vehicle almost before he puts it into park.
Weapons at the ready, we slam the doors, stepping onto the sidewalk, fully intent on fucking shit up, regardless of what we find.
Then, we run.