Chapter 27
What Mimosas?
Dina
Connor drives confidently and steadily through the streets of my city as if he owns them. As we descend the slope from the mansion, we pass police cars parked on the sides. They make me nervous, but Connor doesn’t appear worried about anyone stopping us, his posture at ease.
He’s not slouching-type relaxed, but with sunglasses over his eyes and a piece of caramel candy in his mouth, I’d say the guy is chill.
This puts me at ease as well.
I take a sip of my water. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question? A personal one.”
Connor shrugs. “Shoot.”
“From what I understand about your family, which is only what I’ve read in the papers a long time ago, your dad is from Couldermouth.”
“Mmhm.”
“If your uncles are Macarleys, how come your dad’s last name is Crossbow?”
“Ah, yes. My dad was a bastard, born out of wedlock. My dad’s mother dumped him in a box on Donatella Macarley’s doorstep and left the Macarleys to care for him. Donatella raised my dad, but she looked out for her male heirs, you see.”
“Hmmm. Your grandpa didn’t mind?”
Connor shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. While Donatella couldn’t have her sons sharing a throne with my dad, she also didn’t want him to carry the last name of the woman who abandoned him.
So she gave him the name Crossbow, first of his name.
She thought it would give him a clean slate, and he could build his life on his own. ”
“Are the Macarleys royalty?”
“They are pirates.”
“Pirates?”
Connor nods and turns onto a one-way street toward the hospital, which is across the street from my hair salon.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I tell him.
“Oops.”
He knew. “Hope there’s no cops around.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
I clear my throat. “How was Donatella toward you and Declan?”
“Reserved.” He smiles. “She was kind to us, but reserved. She did her best to ensure that my brother and I were well educated. She taught us to fend for ourselves. We trained in the woods for days with nothing but a bottle of water.”
“Donatella sounds fierce.”
“She was. The way a queen should be.” He looks over at me.
I side-eye him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Before we emerge on the main street, Connor stops. He takes off his leather jacket and shrugs on a suit jacket, then fits a brown contact over his blue eye.
“Why do you pretend you’re Declan?” I ask.
He pulls out of the alley and back into the busy traffic of the main street. “Because Dec said Ivan put out a hit on him. I’d rather it be me.”
“That’s crazy. Does he know you’re doing this?”
“Not today. He wouldn’t want you involved in anything lethal.”
“We’re just going to the hair salon for five minutes.”
Connor slows down when he can’t find a parking space.
“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He shakes his head. “We don’t separate. Not even for a minute.”
“You won’t find a pa—” Connor stops for a pregnant woman in pink teddy bear scrubs who walks across the street. With a dazzling smile on her face, she points at a rental car parked a little way from the salon.
Connor smiles back at her. “Yes, Mama, yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Men.”
“Yeah, yeah, awful creatures.” He lifts his shades and looks at me with his brother’s eyes. “But you like the dick.”
Playfully, I punch him in the shoulder. “She’s pregnant.”
“My point exactly.”
“Don’t be nasty,” I tell him as the woman pulls out. Her car was small, leaving little space for our massive SUV.
Connor prepares to park anyway. “I don’t know how else to be but nasty.”
“It won’t fit,” I inform him.
He slides his gaze to me, eyes at half-mast. Since he looks like his twin far too much now, I look away. The twins might look alike, but Declan’s demeanor is different from Connor’s.
“I’ll make it fit,” Connor says and bumps the car behind us, then the one in the front. The SUV keeps bumping the two cars until we’re perfectly parked between them.
As if he hadn’t just destroyed people’s cars Connor crushes his candy and chews before leaving the white stick in the small trash can in the car.
“Wait for me to open the door for you.”
Oh, that’s nice. I nod.
Once out, Connor stretches like a lazy tomcat. The jacket lifts and sunlight reflects off the golden grips of his guns. I wonder if the reason he stretched was to show whoever might be following us that he’s armed.
Since we parked bumper to bumper, there’s no space to walk between the cars. Connor slides over the hood of our SUV and lands on my side to open the door for me.
“Very cool,” I say. He executed that move like a graceful leopard. If I tried, I would probably end up looking more like a reckless elephant.
On a normal workday, I park in the hospital’s underground parking garage since my friend Tris and I often carpool, and she sticks her hospital staff parking permit on my window.
Then I grab whatever things I need to carry into the salon and slam the car door with my foot before I cross the street, hoping a car doesn’t hit me.
Usually, I carry multiple bags or boxes, so when I arrive at the salon door, I have to drop everything onto the sidewalk, unlock the door, and then pick everything back up, hoping nothing falls out and breaks.
Today, I just walk up to my store.
Which has an eviction notice taped to the door.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Connor reads it, takes a step back, and says, “Stand aside.” He reaches for the gun.
I catch his arm. “No, wait.” I take out a hairpin. “I’ve got this.” I drop to one knee and push the pin into the lock. I turn my head to the side because I need to hear the click. Some people can break into places with a touch, but I have to hear the telltale click.
Connor crouches next to me, his face split in a grin so wide that both dimples show. “Are we breaking and entering?”
“I guess you could say that.” Click. Got it. Yay. My youth didn’t all go to waste.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” he asks.
“My friend, who was a watchmaker. He would fix watches and locks, anything with a mechanism that’s manual.”
We walk in, and the stale air bothers me. I prop the front door open to let in some fresh air.
“Like a safe?” Connor asks.
“What?”
“Your friend liked mechanisms. Ever see him open a safe?”
“Plenty of times.”
Connor seems impressed. “Nice.”
I grab the brushes from the drawer and lay them out on the counter. “Why? Are you interested in breaking into a safe?”
“No, I’m interested in thievery, and for that, I need a lock master. Is he still around?”
I shrug. “I could probably find out.” Two blow dryers. Two straighteners. A curling iron. “Where is that thing?”
“What are we looking for?”
“Never mind. Got it.” I add the curling iron to the pile of stuff on the counter. I’ll need a bag. My professional hairdresser bag is in my apartment. Can’t have that. But years ago, at some event or maybe it was bingo, I won a bag that’s big enough. I think I stored it in the back.
Connor picks up a picture of Chi-chi and me.
I approach him. “Chi-chi was eight. I was twenty-six.” His age, basically. Our lives are so different. So, so different.
“You’re a pretty woman, Dina Ferrar.”
In the mirror, I see that I’m blushing. “Thanks.”
“Where was this picture taken?”
“On the old fairgrounds in the Taval district. It’s a run-down area of town now because most of the factories closed and people left the area. But it used to be nice. All the best parties happened there during my youth.”
“I think my mother is from that part of town.”
“Oh, you’re right. I remember reading that.
It’s only a few blocks from my dad’s.” I swallow what I really want to tell him.
Massio Crossbow went after Anabel’s family, but the neighbors defended them, and so Massio went after the entire district.
Thousands of people left overnight and never returned. It’s been a ghost town ever since.
Connor slides the picture into his suit jacket. “I’m stealing this.”
I chuckle. “That’s an odd thing to steal. I have my old wedding band somewhere. You can steal that. It’s gold.”
“I have gold.”
There is something sad in the way Connor says that.
It makes me want to hug him again. But I refrain.
Though I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with comforting grown-ass men.
They also need hugs. In fact, everyone could use more hugs.
Especially people who have estranged themselves from each other and their families.
“I need a bag from the back.” I enter the storage area.
Connor follows me.
“What if I need to pee?” I ask.
“You pee.”
“Are you going to follow me into the bathroom?”
“Don’t be nasty, Dina.” He stops in the middle of the storage room and turns about. “Oh wow. That’s a lot of pink.”
I laugh. “What can I say? I’m a girly girl.
” The back’s painted in pink with a fluffy pink daybed in case I need an afternoon nap when it’s not so busy.
Supplies stored in pink plastic containers line the tall shelves.
I tend to buy in bulk during sales, so this salon with a storage area is a great place for my business.
Damn, the bag I’m looking for is in the container all the way on the top shelf. I grab a stool, but Connor stops me. “What do you need?”
I point. “That box.”
After he gets it, I grab the bag. Connor puts the box back, and we make our way out.
Something crashes at the front of the salon, rattling the racks. Boxes tip over and fall. Connor pulls out his guns, and I freeze next to him. An explosion blows out the wall separating the front from the back.
I fly into the rack, hit my back and head, then cover my face before everything collapses on me. Under the rubble, the dust makes it hard to breathe. I cough. My lungs struggle. My vision goes dark.