Chapter 35
LIAM
Six Months Later
I drop a pretty postcard with a picture of Dublin’s streets in front of Regan. She looks up at me, frowning. “What’s this?”
“Letter for you.”
She picks it up and laughs. “Oh god, not another.”
“How many more do you think she’ll write?”
“As many as it takes, I bet.” She reads it over and sighs.
“Dear Regan, I hate you so much it hurts. I daydream about stabbing you in the guts and leaving you to be eaten by wild dogs. When can I come home? Sincerely, Vera Baranov. I don’t know what she thinks is going to happen, but this isn’t exactly going to convince me. ”
“Maybe threatening death is her love language.”
“Not likely.” Regan gets up and tucks the postcard in a drawer. There are others stacked inside, one for every week since Vera was shipped off to stay with an affiliate Whelan family in Ireland.
“They’re treating her well though. She’s got a job, she’s making friends, and by all accounts, she’s happy.”
“By all accounts, except for her postcards.”
“Are you starting to feel sorry for her?”
“Yes and no.” She comes to me, puts a hand on my chest, and kisses me. “She guarantees the Baranovs keep to themselves. That’s the point of a hostage, right? But that doesn’t make it right.”
“Nothing’s ever right in our world. Except for maybe this.” I kiss her, holding it a few beats longer than I need. Her fingers brush the burn scars on my neck, but I can barely feel it. The doctors say the nerves there are dead and likely won’t come back.
Worth it, all things considered.
“Are you sure you have to go today?” She pouts and bats her eyelashes at me. “I’ve been so lonely, you know.”
“Don’t try to manipulate me because you’re bored.”
“What if I offered you sex?”
“I’d reject you with a hard dick.”
“I’m insulted!”
“And I still have to leave. Don’t worry, it’s only a day.” I kiss her again, tasting her lips. “Stay out of trouble?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”
I reluctantly leave and head down to my car.
It’s not a long drive. On the way, I think about Vera living in an unfamiliar country, surrounded by polite but not exactly friendly strangers.
She knows the deal: if she tries to run, we’ll hunt her down and kill her.
Her family knows too: if they try to bring her back, we’ll hunt her down and kill her. And if they try to restart the war?
A hostage is a nice thing to have.
But I haven’t thought about what it must feel like lingering there with no idea when her captivity will end. She has some freedom, but not too much, some ability to live, but not as much as she did before. I wonder if she loved Kieren the way he clearly loved her, and I guess it doesn’t matter.
Vera’s suffering means Regan is safe. And in the ledger of my heart, where there’s already enough murder and death to weigh me down to hell, that feels right on balance.
I drive until the city recedes, until New York City turns to suburbs which turn to a wider rural spread.
I slow on a quiet street in Pine Bush, New York, peering out at a moderate rancher with a brick facade and a worn roof.
A beat-up truck’s parked in the drive. I pull in behind it and kill the engine.
He’s waiting on the porch.
“Morning.” Luke nods at me over a cup of coffee. “You eat yet?”
“I’m good.”
“Here, got you this.” He tosses me a thermos. “Figured you’d need it. Cream, no sugar.”
“Thanks.” I pop it open and take a sip. For all Luke’s faults, the man knows how to brew. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” He sighs and stands, hefting a duffel on his shoulder. “Gonna miss this place.”
“No, you’re not.”
He grins and doesn’t argue.
We get in my car. I start driving again, heading north.
Luke doesn’t talk much on the trip. We roll through towns, past homes, past lives, and I try to imagine them all, their own little worlds.
Their loves and losses, their hatred and their joy.
All these petty existences, eked out for nothing.
I don’t pity them, exactly. I don’t hate them either.
They’re nothing at all, as far as I’m concerned. They might as well be dead already.
We have no trouble at the border. The crossing guard looks over Luke’s fake papers and waves us through with a bored but friendly smile.
More miles roll past until the sun begins to sink over the horizon, sending pink smears through clouds.
I pull over at a random downtown street corner and cut the engine.
Luke doesn’t get out. He peers through the window, brow furrowed, saying nothing. My legs ache and I still have to find a hotel for the night. But he’s clearly in no hurry.
“Does she know?” His voice is small. There’s a weight to it.
“Not exactly.”
“What did you tell her? Does she think I’m dead?”
“She knows you aren’t dead, but she also knows not to ask for details, because I’ll tell her, and then both our lives will be in danger.”
“What does your family think?”
“I told them you were taken care of. They made their own assumptions.” My guts flip, but the guilt isn’t so strong anymore. Not after months of pretending like nothing was wrong, making occasional trips up north for business, acting as though I weren’t doing something stupid.
“Why did you do it?” Luke twists to look at me. “I nearly fucked you all over.”
I sigh and sink back. In all the months I’ve been looking after Luke and keeping him in that shitty shack while I got his documents in order, bribing government officials, changing his name, turning him into a real Canadian citizen with a sketchy but passable history, we haven’t once talked about this.
“It’s easy. I love her. I’d do anything for her. And I knew she wanted me to do this, even if we couldn’t talk about it. So here I am, dumping your ass on a random street corner in Quebec City. How’s your French?”
“It sucks.” He tries a weak smile but it quickly fades. “Can you tell her something for me?”
“Probably not.”
“Tell her one day that I’m sorry. I really, really am, and I love her, and she was a great big sister. Better than she thinks.”
“I’ll try.”
“Okay. This is it then.” He still doesn’t move. “I can’t believe you named me Guy. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“You got a whole life to deal with it.”
He steps off onto the curb, duffel on his back. He doesn’t wave as I drive off. Last I see of Luke is him turning away to face the city.
I find a room for the night, shower off, and call her by eight. She answers right away. “Miss me that bad, huh?”
“Had to hear your voice.”
“You bored?”
“Without you, always.”
“Finn’s turning you into a businessman now, huh? No more prowling the streets?”
I smile as I stretch out in bed. “I still got some prowling in me, don’t you worry.”
“Alright then, big scary man, how about you tell me something dirty?”
My eyebrows lift. “Are you trying to initiate phone sex?”
“Don’t make me feel weird.”
“No, I love it. What do you want to hear about?”
“I don’t know. If I were there with you in that hotel room, what would we do?”
“Ruin the place.”
“Specifics, Liam.” She sounds exasperated. “How am I going to come if you won’t be specific?”
“Alright, love, you filthy fucking girl. If you were here, I’d sink my fist into your hair, tug your mouth to mine, and taste you until I get my fill.”
“Mmmm, that’s better.”
“Wet yet?”
“Getting there.”
“In my scenario, you’re fucking soaked, writhing under my touch, whimpering and begging, and I’m very mean to you, love.”
“You are?!”
“Oh yes, I’m a bully to your poor, needy little pussy.”
“Fuck…”
“Regan?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Hold on.” Static, mild cursing, and then breathing. “Okay, ready, now keep talking.”
I close my eyes, reach down my briefs, and grin into the dark.