Chapter 6 #2
Then there’s the fact that Fairfax had dealings with oligarchs from Russia and Central Asia in the past.
Not a crime by itself. Only, the average oligarch was one degree removed from organized crime.
Business as usual for that part of the world in that era, yes. It’s also a tiny, waving red flag.
Still, I can’t get bent out of shape over old friends.
It’s probably fine.
If Cleo knew what I was thinking, she’d call me paranoid and laugh in my face.
I keep my guard up by nature when the stakes are this high. Better to err on the side of caution than risk disaster.
And I don’t just mean with the egg, either.
I glance at the suitcase, safely strapped into the empty seat next to me. Then I look at Cleo, hunkered down in her blankets, her mouth open and snoring softly.
I smile.
I’ve always sheltered this girl against her own misplaced instincts. Kids like to think they know better when they damn well don’t.
A memory creeps in, one I’d almost forgotten.
Last time I blinked, she was seventeen and still the biggest pain in my ass. Trying to drink wine from the cellar, aiming to sneak out with boys.
Keeping an eye on her was a full-time job I hated being stuck with.
Definitely not the kind of job I wanted with a young daughter and a dead girlfriend. Life faded greyer, a little darker, a little more hopeless and nihilistic than I ever imagined.
If it wasn’t for Kit, it would’ve broke me.
Leonidas was firm about the fact that he wanted me to stay on and help make sure little Nile didn’t blow up her life.
Ethan’s meltdowns left him scared for Cleo, and he was determined to keep her out of trouble.
What the fuck could I do but my best?
I screwed my fucking head on straight so I could chase down that girl and give her one more mostly innocent summer. The kind every grown kid deserves.
Not perfect—far from it—but I’d like to think she walked away with a pinch of respect that year. Respect for other people, respect for her own body, respect for herself.
Like Leonidas, I wanted her to grow up knowing she had folks in her corner who’ll always have her back.
She needed it, too, before going off to college.
She might’ve annoyed me to hell and back, but I didn’t hate her as a person.
Hell, I felt sorry for her, having to go home to a father who barely gave her the time of day. When she was little, she used to cry on her last few days with us, begging to stay with Gramps forever.
When she got older, she tried to play it cool. But there was no hiding the change in her posture, the shadows on her face that crept in.
There was also no stopping her from upping the ante her last week.
That’s when I caught the baby of the family trying to climb out of her goddamned window into a tree that wasn’t strong enough to hold her.
All for some punkass boy.
Crazy, the things a girl will do for the sake of some pimple-faced little man-cub who has no plans in life beyond his summer job stuffing lobster rolls.
I stood back in the darkness for a second, watching her from the ground.
She had her hair tied back, wearing jeans and a pleated white shirt, a sweatshirt twisted around her waist in a knot.
The boy waited in the bushes below, obvious as day. The leaves rustled every now and then when he moved.
“Clee, hurry!” he whispered up.
“I am!”
Then it happened.
Her fingers slipped on the branches and she squealed.
Cue action.
I wasn’t having her break her damn neck for a make-out session she wouldn’t remember in two years.
“Miss Blackthorn,” I snapped, striding forward. “Get back inside this instant.”
Predictably, she shrieked again.
Even more predictably, she lost her grip.
The thick tree branch wasn’t thick enough. It gave out under her, plunging her into free fall.
There are moments in life when the adrenaline hits so hard the entire world slows down.
I never moved so fast in slow motion, rushing over, snatching her out of the air, breaking her fall as she landed perfectly in my arms.
Crisis averted. A miracle.
“I’ve got you! Are you hurt?” My eyes searched hers before she said a word.
Stupid comment when she was safe in my arms, maybe, but she needed reassurance.
She stared up at me brokenly.
Then she blinked through her heavy makeup and slapped my chest.
“Holden? What the hell are you doing?” She flipped over, fighting me like an untrained puppy.
Grimacing, I set her down, clamping a hand on her shoulder once she was back on her feet.
“What does it look like? I’m stopping you from busting your head open. You’re welcome.” Swirling, I pointed to the bush where her useless lover boy waited. “You, out.”
The trees rustled loudly and the kid went flying like a rabbit. Only tripping on a rock slowed him down.
A rangy fuckboy, probably a year or two older than her. Just your average overgrown teenager in a white college sports tee that was a size too big for him.
I’d seen him around town a few times, blustering and making himself out to be the big man with his friends on their skateboards.
When he saw me, his face went white as a sheet in the dim moonlight.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Bro, I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t… Shit!”
His look was almost comical.
I didn’t laugh once as I gave him a quick once-over.
My nostrils flared. Hard to believe she saw anything in a startled buck who just showed zero concern for her safety, but I remembered what it was like being a teenager.
Hormones make you stupid, and stupid gets dangerous fast.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorn!”
I frowned.
Wasn’t the first time I’d been mistaken for her old man or Leonidas himself, and I didn’t like it.
“Jace, what the fuck!” she hissed. “He’s not my dad, he’s—he’s just an asshole.”
My grip on her shoulder tightened.
“Kid,” I told the boy. “Beat it before I change my mind about letting you go without calling the cops. You’re trespassing, and that’s the least of what I could slap you with.”
“Okay, y-yeah! I’m going, I’m going.” He gave Cleo one last startled look and sprinted away, pulling his pants up as they sagged around his waist.
Sorry fucking scene.
Then Cleo slapped my hand off her shoulder, tearing away from me.
“Holy crap. Like are you done ruining my life yet?”
Above us, thunder rumbled in the distance. A split second later, a cold ocean rain began pelting us.
“Hate me all you want, Nile. One day, you’ll thank me.” I pointed up at her room. “Back inside, young lady. Right now. The sooner you get moving, the more time you’ll have to figure out what you’re going to tell your grandfather.”
The violet-blue glint in her eyes dripped otherworldly hatred.
“Oh, fuck you, Holden Hardass.” She swiped a hand down her face, smearing her overdone makeup in the rain with her tears. “Why are you like this?”
“Why? Because someone has to look after you. We both know Mr. Blackthorn’s too old to catch you falling out of trees.”
“Oh my God, you’re ridiculous. I fell because you startled me! I’m not your freaking prisoner.”
“Choose your words very carefully.” I folded my arms. “I don’t want to explain the part where you were caught sneaking out to meet a boy who wouldn’t even stand up for you. Or the part where you could’ve wound up paralyzed. Your grandfather thinks you’re smarter than that. Don’t prove him wrong.”
Her cheeks flared.
To her credit, she had the good grace to feel shame.
“That’s… that’s not your decision. You know what? Don’t bother. I’ll tell him myself.”
“Will you?” I quirked an eyebrow. “And for the record, while you’re here and I’m assigned to ensure your well-being, it absolutely is my decision.”
“Whatever, limpdick straight-edge pony prick. You ruin everything.” The tears came hot and heavy, searing down her cheeks, melting into the rain.
“Limp dicks are rarely straight,” I growled, intensifying my stare, unmoving.
Bad move, giving in to her insults, perhaps, but I’m only human.
And this is the usual hell cycle.
Little Cleo, wanting to make a childish decision she’ll regret, and I have to stop her to keep getting paid.
Rinse, repeat, and rip my hair out every time.
“Get moving. Ten more seconds, and I’m waking up your grandfather.” I fished my phone from my pocket, holding it up.
“You wouldn’t.” She gasps.
“Try me.” I spread my hands.
“Oh my God.” With one more indignant head shake, she stormed back to the house. “You are the worst, Holden Verity.”
That part didn’t bother me. I’ve heard far worse.
And whether we get along or not, it was irrelevant to my job. Cleo crafting a custom Holden voodoo doll didn’t matter if it kept her in one piece.
What I didn’t expect was the note she left a few days later, before returning to Boston.
The letter came complete with a sketch she’d drawn of me, looking like one of those exaggerated miniature anime characters. I’ve seen them before from Kit’s cartoons.
I looked surly and exasperated, stormy and scowly and fucking ridiculous.
Holden Hardass, she’d scrawled in her girly handwriting. She drew little hearts above her I’s.
The words underneath were more surprising.
Holden, you suck. You always will.
But you suck just a nano-dick less for stopping me from sneaking out with Jace. I hate to admit you saved me some trouble.
He ghosted me after that night. He hooked up with Patti, that goth chick Gramps used to buy Girl Scout cookies from, right after he got away.
He likes to run his mouth too. I guess you scared him bad enough. He’s not running around Portland, telling everyone we nearly hooked up.
Thanks for that. And thanks for stopping me from sleeping with him because I hear he’s pretty shit in bed.
But yeah. You are still the biggest, grumpiest asshole in the known universe.
If you ever have kids, I pray for them.
Still your favorite headache,
Nile Queen
That’s what she signed at the bottom.
I still have it to this day, tucked away in my office drawer along with a few photos with the old man and the other kids. I was usually the man behind the camera, taking those pics.
Now, as I reach over to gently wake her up and get one eye cracked and gleaming hellfire for my trouble, I almost smile.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
A large part of my career was keeping Cleo Blackthorn from screwing up her life before it got off the ground.
There’s a strange, familiar comfort in that.
As I pass her a coffee before we land, the rest feels a little less daunting.