Chapter 8
EIGHT
CRICKET
Everything is pounding. Miserably.
I sit up in bed and hold my aching head with two hands. It’s like the drumline of a damn marching band is performing on my temple. It’s not from crying. It’s from days on end of not allowing myself to cry. All the anger, frustration, shock, and embarrassment are bottled up in me like rocket fuel. I’m counting down the minutes until I explode on someone.
I want to call Lance and melt into him. I could fall apart on his shoulder, comforted by his strong embrace. Then again, I also want to line Lance’s head up with a target board and let a few rounds from my pistol loose.
I hate him.
But I miss him…
He’s dead to me.
But I can’t just turn off love…
“Cricket?” Eden’s standing in the doorway, holding a tray. Far too lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear her open the door. “You can stay with us as long as you like, but I’m putting my foot down. You have to eat.”
“Thanks, love.” I shake my head. “But I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry.”
“That’s what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Her eyebrows arch.
“Yet you’re still finding it so hard to believe.” I hold her stare. If she thinks the mom-scold look she’s giving me is intimidating, she’s wildly incorrect.
Eden rolls her eyes. She steps into the guest room and sets the tray down on the dresser, opposite the bed. “I thought you’d continue to be stubborn today.” She crosses her arms. “We can do this the easy way…”
“Or?” I ask with a little smirk.
“Or the Linc-holds-you-down-while-I-force-feed-you way.”
I scoff. “And where is Linc?”
“Right outside waiting for my command.” Eden narrows her eyes and smiles.
“Mhmm.”
“He’s actually out walking Mouse. We’re trying to train him to walk off-leash.”
Mouse is Eden and Linc’s rambunctious Malinois puppy. I’ve been hiding out in their home for over a week. In that time, they think they’ve miraculously trained Mouse to suddenly sleep on his mat in the living room at night. He’s actually been sneaking in here after they go to sleep. I let him under the covers. He’s a sorry excuse for a guard dog, but an excellent cuddler.
“How’s off-leash training going?”
“About as successful as getting you to eat,” Eden sasses back.
“You’re relentless.” I pull the covers off my bare legs. Patting the firm mattress, I invite Eden to sit down next to me. She grabs the tray and gracefully crosses the room. Whatever is in that bowl smells good enough to tickle my appetite to life.
“Not to brag, but this didn’t come from a can. Made it from scratch,” Eden says as she sets the tray down and picks up the silver soup spoon. “Chicken noodle. My dad’s recipe.”
“Smells nice.” I lean down to inhale the salty, aromatic broth.
“He would make it for me every time I was sick or…sad.”
I lift my eyes, flashing Eden a look. “I’m not sad.”
“I didn’t say you were…”
“I’m angry.”
Eden wiggles the spoon. “Fine. It’s angry soup, then. Eat up.”
“You’re getting a little braver and pushier around assassins, you know that?” I take the utensil from her.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says.
Eden watches me intently as I pick up the utensil and deposit a spoonful of broth, sliced carrot, and a chunk of chicken into my mouth. “This is really good.”
Eden beams at me. “Good. I don’t mean to mother you, but ten more bites, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“Third time’s a charm,” I mutter before shoving another hearty bite into my mouth.
“What’s that?” Eden asks.
I hold up one finger. “My first mother died when I was little.” I hold up another. “My second just shunned me and no longer wants anything to do with me.” My third finger joins the rest. “Let’s hope you and I fare a little better, hm?”
“Vesper didn’t shun you,” Eden says softly. “She’s…worried about you. So is Lance.”
My eyes turn to slits. I glare at the soup so I don’t direct my anger at Eden. “I’ll eat three bowls of this right now if you never say his name to me again.”
“He’s been asking about you.” She touches my arm gently. I pat her hand, reminding myself that she’s not the enemy.
“Did you tell him I’m staying here?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’m running out of excuses. He knows we talk. Is there anything I can tell him?”
I fill my lungs to capacity, then let out another deep breath. “Yeah. Tell him I’m dead.”
Eden cocks her head to the side. “How about I just say you’re not quite ready to talk yet?” She’s using her soothing HR voice on me.
“Or the dead thing.” I shovel another bite of soup into my mouth. I said I wasn’t hungry, but a few bites have made my stomach come back to life. It’s empty and roaring furiously now. I grab the torn piece of baguette lying next to the soup bowl. After plunging it into the broth, I bite off a big piece, chewing slowly, telling my stomach to calm down.
“He came by my office a few days ago and told me to tell you something if I saw you.”
I pretend like I’m not interested. “Being?” I ask distractedly, focused on tearing off another piece of bread.
“He’s sorry. He misses you. And something about seeing you on June twenty-seventh… Cricket, he was distraught. What happened between you two in New York?”
“I told you already, I went off plan—”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Before Vesper got there. You and Lance left as friends and came back as something else. Did you guys—”
“Fuck?”
Eden blushes but keeps her eyes on me. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m asking.”
“We did,” I admit.
“Oh. So now you and Lance are…” She trails off, looking for me to finish her sentence.
It’s a good question. What exactly are we now? Broken. Hurt. Confused. Angry. In love. I drop the piece of bread into the soup, watching it disintegrate to nothing in an instant. It’s strange how quickly something can disappear. One minute here, the next gone. In one moment, Lance and I were destiny—bound for a happily ever after. But now?
I look Eden dead in the eye. “Now, we’re nothing.”
By ten o’clock on Tuesday night, I find myself at Martinis, our team’s preferred watering hole. No one’s here tonight. I’m not even sure if Linc and Eden realized I left the house. I stayed at their place after I got back from New York because I wanted to hide out in peace. I craved the privacy, but now I can’t stand to be alone with my thoughts.
“Cricket?” I look up to see Ollie, one of Martinis’ bartenders, standing in front of my booth. She’s holding a server’s tray with a bright red drink in a stemless martini glass, wearing an apologetic smile.
“I didn’t order that.”
“Compliments of the gentlemen at the end of the bar.”
I look over her shoulder at two men in slacks and business jackets who are unsubtly looking in my direction. “Which one?”
She shakes her head and shrugs. “If I’m being honest, I don’t know. They are sharing a tab. Kind of seems like you have your pick of the two.” She cocks her head to the side. “Or maybe it’s a group situation if you’re into that. They certainly aren’t bad-looking.”
I nod toward her tray. “What did they order me?”
“Cosmopolitan.”
There’s an uncomfortable tug in my midsection, like I swallowed a ball of lead, and it’s settling deep in my stomach. “I don’t like fruity drinks.”
Ollie squints at me, her dark eyebrows, which are a contrast to her platinum-blond hair, scrunch in confusion. “You order sweet drinks all the time.”
Actually, I order sugary crap while Lance orders Jameson on the rocks or a filthy martini with an extra olive. I always pretend like the sugar gives me a headache, and so gallantly, he offers to swap. Almost ten years into our friendship, I’ve never once let anyone in on the truth that Lance likes to drink like Malibu Barbie on her 21 st birthday-palooza. I kept all his secrets. I’ve never betrayed his trust.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I mumble.
“For the drink?” Ollie takes one more look over her shoulder, her long ponytail swishing behind her as her eyes snap back to me. “Or the men?”
I let out a soft laugh. “Neither. You drink it.”
Ollie puts her free hand against her belly. “I’m not drinking right now.” There’s barely a slight curve to her midsection, but the way she’s cupping her stomach like it’s precious, it’s obvious she’s pregnant.
The lead ball in my stomach sinks even lower. “How far along are you?”
“Almost sixteen weeks. I just started telling people this week. We wanted to be sure the baby was okay. My sister struggled with miscarriages, and it was always so heartbreaking when she had to explain to everyone…” She bites her bottom lip.
I hold up my palm. “I understand. Congratulations, Ollie. To you and the baby’s father.”
Ollie rolls her eyes. “Her dad left a douchebag-shaped hole in the wall when I told him. He wants nothing to do with us.” She glances down at her belly, then back up at me. “It’s all right. We’re better off.” Ollie sets the tray down at the edge of the table and rolls her shoulders, shaking out her arms.
This happens every time I hear a woman is pregnant. It leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. A life I wanted…but can’t ever have.
“Do me a favor?”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Don’t tell me his name, love. I’ll be way too tempted to do something about it.”
She laughs. “In that case, I’ll give you his social security number, too.”
Ollie’s a smart girl. She has to know that Callen, Linc, Vesper, Lance, and I don’t have normal jobs. We’re Friday regulars at Martinis now, so when she asks us how work was, we all shrug and give evasive responses like, “tiring” or “messy.” She never pokes or prods. I assume she thinks we’re FBI or Secret Service. I’m sure she’d never imagine the depth of what we are and what we do.
“Anyway, I—”
The front door of Martinis opens, and the slim figure at the door catches my attention. Fuck. Ollie turns to see what I’m looking at.
“Oh, look, there’s your boss,” she says, clueless to the tension that just entered the room.
My eyes are locked on Vesper as she scans the lounge and spots me easily. She stares right back, holding my gaze as she advances toward my booth.
Ollie picks up her tray. “Let me go return this and then grab your usual. Two dirty martinis?”
“Filthy,” I say. “Extra olives. And make it seven.”
Ollie laughs, but I’m not kidding. I need seven whole martinis to keep my cool around Vesper at the moment. I haven’t decided if I’m angry with her. Am I even allowed to be? I know the rules. I’m the one who tried to break them.
As soon as Ollie shuffles away from the table, Vesper replaces her.
“What’s wrong with Ollie?” Vesper asks. “She hurried off.”
“I think she’s afraid of you.” I scan Vesper head to do. She’s in high-waisted black slacks and a cap-sleeve turtleneck, also black. “Perhaps you should introduce more color into your wardrobe. You look like an assassin.”
“Clever,” Vesper mumbles.
“How’d you know where I was?” I hold up my finger, then tap underneath my collarbone. “ Oh, wait. Did my vet tip you off?”
Vesper raises one brow. “You’re implying I ‘chipped’ you like a dog? Is that the joke you’re attempting to make?”
“Not a joke. Just facts.”
She blows out a breath, expressing her agitation. “May I join you?”
I glance around the large, empty booth. “Sure.”
As soon as Vesper slides into the booth, Ollie returns with two martinis. Extra filthy. The liquid is cloudy with martini mix, and each glass is stuffed with four olives.
“You’re about five shy, Ollie.”
She laughs as she sets a glass in front of me, then one in front of Vesper. “How about you start with these and keep me posted?”
“Thank you, Ollie,” Vesper says warmly.
Ollie returns her smile but doesn’t linger. I was joking earlier, but perhaps people are more intimidated by Vesper than I realize. I’ve been around her so long, I guess the effect has worn off. I still remember the day she rescued me. She was never a hardened assassin to me, just the woman who wrapped her arms around me and carried me to safety when I was moments away from death.
Vesper takes a small sip of her drink and then sets it back down on the table. I, on the other hand, down my martini in two gulps, popping the olives in my mouth one by one. Outside of a few bites of Eden’s soup, it’s the only thing I’ve eaten today.
“I need you to come into headquarters early tomorrow. We have an important guest incoming.”
I finish chewing slowly, in silence, delaying my response as long as possible. “I thought I was on probation?”
“Consider it lifted,” Vesper snaps back. “I need your help.”
“Who is this guest?”
“You’ll know when you need to know.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You know what, Vesper? I think I’ve had enough of your cryptic messages. If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the day off tomorrow.”
“You’ve had a week off.”
I level a stare at her. “Well, it’s not like I’m in the running for employee of the month or anything.”
“Cricket—”
“Stop.” I hold up my palm, feeling the tension that’s been building since the moment I heard Rossi’s phone call. Hope, failure, anger, betrayal, pain. It’s too much, too fast. The memories flood through me at once as the dam breaks open.
Mom’s funeral … The way Saoirse bawled and no one could comfort her as she screamed for her mother. The light going out in Pappa’s eyes as he died in my arms. The animalistic sounds Luca made when he stole my virginity. The black hole I fell through when I learned my sister was dead.
I’ve killed so many men and women to spare their victims from my family’s sordid fate. I served Vesper and PALADIN, and all I wanted in return was peace.
Vesper won’t let me have the relief of vengeance.
And now I just feel empty…broken…lost…and…
“Done,” I whisper.
“What?” Vesper asks, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m done. With you. With PALADIN. If you need to put a bullet through my brain to relieve me of duty, so be it. Whatever you need to do to set me free.”
I break Vesper’s gaze and grip the edge of the table tightly so my hands stop shaking. The sounds of hushed chatter around the bar suddenly seem deafening. My heart accelerates out of control as I wait for Vesper’s response. Either she’ll remind me that I signed my life away and there is no quitting PALADIN, which is as good as a death sentence. Or, even worse… She’ll set me free.
The booth shifts, jostling me as Vesper slides around the round table to sit next to me. She puts one hand over mine. “What am I to you?”
Of all the responses, I was not expecting that one. “What?”
“What do you see me as? Your boss? Your overlord? Your family? What am I to you?”
Vesper’s eyes are filled with pain. I know how to react to her anger. But this?… I don’t know how to respond. “I don’t know.”
“You’re not like Linc and Lance. Your family didn’t abandon you. They were taken from you. And I thought protecting you and keeping you alive would help atone for failing you and Saoirse all those years ago.”
I didn’t realize I was crying until Vesper uses her thumb to brush a tear away from my cheek. With one simple gesture, I’m reminded of my place. My answer is clear. “You didn’t fail me, Vesper. You saved me. It’s not your fault you couldn’t save Saoirse.”
“I did fail you. Your mother, too. Cricket, I’ve known you long before we met. And I think it’s time you learn the truth. I made Erin a promise, and seeing you like this, I know I haven’t fulfilled it.”
Erin. I freeze as the painful ache prickles my skin. It’s been ten years since I heard my mother’s name spoken out loud. “What truth?”
Vesper releases me and slides away a few inches so she can face me head-on. “Your mother died in a car, Cricket. But it was no accident. She was an informant. She betrayed the mob and paid the consequences.”
“What? You’re wrong. Even if that were true, my father would’ve never allowed that to happen. Pappa was the most powerful mob boss in Ireland. My mother had the protection of an entire army.”
Vesper frowns. “But who would protect her from him? ”
My jaw drops. “How dare you imply—”
“Your father rose to power by being the most ruthless, hard-hearted criminal the Irish mob had ever seen. His wife and daughters were his only soft spot. But the more powerful he became, the more his conscience disappeared. He had his eyes set on moving his operations to the United States. Your mother grew scared.”
I’m paralyzed with shock. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
I’m silent, so Vesper continues her explanation. “While I was still working for the FBI, Erin reached out for help and told us about Cillian’s plans and all the people who were in danger. We were working on granting your mother amnesty and protection as a U.S. citizen. But the paperwork was taking too fucking long. By the time we got approval, it was too late. Your father found out. He ordered the hit and told them to make it look like an accident. I went to Ireland to collect Erin and her daughters and hide you in America. Instead, when I got there, I attended her funeral.”
“No… I…” I can barely choke out my protests.
“Loyalty is not to be tested in the mob. But even I was shocked at how far your father was willing to go. He could’ve spared her. But he was angry your mother wanted to leave him. His only focus was settling a score and staying in power. A mob boss shows no weakness and no mercy.”
I shake my head. “No. Lies. Fucking lies.”
I’m still denying it, but my stomach churns as the blurry piece of the picture suddenly becomes more clear. The pain Pappa went through after Mom’s death…it wasn’t just grief. It was guilt and regret. It’s why he could barely look at me and Saoirse for months after she died. He knew exactly what he took from us. All our pain…he caused it.
“Please tell me you’re lying,” I plead. “Please.” But what reason would Vesper have to lie about this?
“Your mother was one of the many reasons PALADIN exists,” Vesper says. “She should be alive. Had paperwork and approvals not gotten in the way, your mother would’ve raised you in America, hidden from the mob. You should’ve had a life away from murderers, terrorists, and rapists. Your mother risked everything to save you both. It’s why I couldn’t leave you behind when I found you all those years ago. But this…” Vesper has to recompose herself with a deep breath. “ This life is all I could offer you.”
“Stop,” I beg, holding up my hands. “No more.”
“I want you to know what you’re living to avenge. There are no heroes when it comes to this criminal underworld. PALADIN is as close as it comes, and we’re still wildly flawed. If there was ever good in this world, mankind snuffed it out with the ashes of everything we’ve burned. Cricket…” Vesper lifts my chin, so I’m looking into her eyes. My vision is blurred, my eyes stinging from the hot tears. “I would’ve spared you had you killed Luca. And I would’ve been wrong for it. Bending the rules for you would make me an unsuitable leader, and I would’ve had to step down and leave PALADIN behind. But I have no choice but to protect you. Your father chose power... I will always choose you.”
I ball up my fists, trying to hold tightly to something…anything. The sound of the bar noise fades, and all I hear is the sharp sound of shattering. I look around, but no one’s dropped anything.
It’s me.
Breaking into a million pieces.
My affection for my father shatters like a hammer hitting glass. How could he take his beloved wife’s life? How could I twist the narrative and be so wrong about what he was? If he’d murder his own wife, what did he do to the people he didn’t love? What could he have done to me and Saoirse?
Everything I am…
Everything I knew…
It’s gone in an instant as I learn the truth. My real origin story is not made of valor and honor. All this time, I focused on avenging my father. I didn’t realize my mother needed vengeance more. But Pappa’s gone. Saoirse’s gone. Everyone is gone…
Except Vesper. I always saw PALADIN as a means to an end. I served my time until I could accomplish my mission. Now, my mission is obsolete.
What do I do now? Where do I go? Who do I have?
“Cricket, listen, I—”
“Stop ,” I say again, holding my head in my hands. If she keeps talking, I’m going to fall apart. “Please stop. I’ve had enough… I believe you . Just stop.”
She gives me a moment of peace before she restarts with the questions. “What now?” Vesper asks. “What do you want? If you want to leave this all behind…I’ll let you go.”
Shocked, I lift my eyes. “What did you say?”
Anguish painted all over her face, Vesper nods once. “If you want your freedom, it’s yours.”
“But you’ve always said—”
“Forget what I said. This is for Erin. A debt repaid.”
I breathe in; the air feels thick and heavy with tension as Vesper waits for my reply.
“I need some time to think about it.” I run my finger along the rim of my empty glass. “Can you give me that?”
“As much as you need.” Vesper grabs her nearly full martini glass and downs it. “Another round?”
I nod. I want to drown in liquor tonight and forget as much as I can.
Vesper holds up two fingers, flagging down Ollie. She shuffles out from around the bar and I can’t help but think about the baby growing in her stomach. I wonder when the impenetrable maternal love begins. Does it take time to grow? Does a woman already know, even when she’s a few months pregnant, that she’d lay down her life for her child?
My entire world has been flipped on its head, but one thing I know for sure is Vesper would die to protect me. I don’t doubt that for a moment.
“To answer your question…” I lift my heavy lids to examine her confused expression. “Who you are to me,” I clarify.
“Yes?”
“You’re a mother to me. The only person I feel safe around.”
Vesper nods. She presses her lips together tightly, as if she’s trying to control an emotional reaction. “Okay.”
“But that means no more lies and no more secrets—from either of us. It will break us. We need a clean slate.”
She nods again. “Deal.”
I touch her forearm, gently. A small show of affection. “What time do I need to be at work tomorrow?”
“Six thirty.” She lifts her eyebrows. “In the morning.”
I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”