by C. Kennedy
Christy translated, and everyone cheered as Michael touched his glass gently to Thimi’s.
Thimi looked thoroughly bewildered, and dinner was served.
THEY MOVED to the living room area after dinner, and Thimi fell asleep on the couch with his head in Christy’s lap. The conversation had been congenial and light as they talked about Michael’s practice, the USATF meet, and ideas for a Wellington Ranch in Greece. When Christy yawned, Michael knew it was time to hit the road.
“I need to get home. I have to be up at seven for practice,” he said softly. Christy looked at him, and the longing Michael saw in his eyes nearly broke his heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Christy nodded.
Michael gave his hand a gentle squeeze and stood. “Text if you need me?”
Christy nodded again. “Thank you for the adventure with the book.”
Michael smiled. “You know it.” He turned. “See you tomorrow, Rob. Dr. Jordanou, it was good to see you again.” Michael shook his hand. “General Sotíras—”
“Nicos,” the general reminded him as he hefted his largess from the overstuffed chair.
“Yes, sir. Nicos,” Michael confirmed as he shook his hand.
“Christy, do you want help moving Thimi?” Dr. Jordanou asked.
Christy nodded again.
“I will walk Michael out while you move Thimi?” Nicos offered.
The surprise in Christy’s eyes was fleeting, but Michael didn’t miss it. He thought about telling the general it wasn’t necessary but decided against it. He didn’t want to be rude. He bent and kissed the top of Christy’s head. “Love you,” he whispered.
Now Christy smiled.
“IT’S BEAUTIFUL here,” Nicos said as he walked Michael to the car.
“June is always the best. Warm and not too humid yet.”
They reached Michael’s car, and the general turned to him. “Nero tells me there is another problem over this Jason who tried to kill you and Christy.”
The words were stark, too blunt for Michael’s liking, but he couldn’t refute them. He had no choice but to tell the truth yet didn’t know how much of it to tell. “I don’t know if it’s a huge problem. One of Jason’s friends might be giving us a hard time. Detective Davis is looking into it.”
Nicos met Michael’s eyes. “If it involves hoodlums and another death, it’s a problem.”
Michael wanted to smile at the use of the word “hoodlum” but kept his reserve. He didn’t want the general to think he wasn’t taking the problem seriously. “Until Detective Davis can prove that it’s Rich hanging out with these guys, we don’t know if it has anything to do with Jason. Even then, it may just be Rich doing his own thing.”
“You recall I met Smitty at the airport during Christy’s rescue?”
Oops. Michael had forgotten that. “I do.” Michael waited for the general to say more, his penetrating dark eyes holding him in their piercing grip. When he didn’t continue, Michael offered, “Smitty’s looking into it too.”
“Nero tells me you were concerned about Yosef helping Jason.”
“I still wonder about it. A bomb was… not something Jason would do. Someone had to have given him the idea and then helped him. And Detective Davis never identified the two guys who helped him put the bomb in my car.”
Nicos’s face darkened. “The police also never identified who shot Jason.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Michael wasn’t sure what to say, so he asked a question of his own. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking your suspicion was correct and Yosef dispensed with Jason.”
Michael winced. “You have to know how mafia that sounds to me.”
Nicos’s expression changed to one of concern. “Unfortunately, these things happen around the Sanna family.”
That was comforting. Not. “What do you think we should do?”
“I would advise extra security for you, Jake, Christy, Sophia, and Thimi at all times.”
Even more disconcerting. “Thanks, Gen—Nicos.”
JAKE CALLED as soon as Michael hit the road. “How’d it go?” he asked without preamble.
“I didn’t have a chance to talk to Christy about the Ariel thing, but he looked pissed off.”
“Sophia wants Christy to come to the city tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“She thinks if it isn’t handled right away, Ariel will think she can keep putting her off.”
“I don’t know when Christy saw Ariel last, and I have no idea if it’ll upset him to see her. Does Sophia get that?”
Before Jake could answer, Michael’s phone blipped, indicating that he had another call coming in. “Let me call you back, bro. Christy’s trying to get me.”
“You got it.”
Michael touched the screen, and Christy’s call came through. “Hey, babe. You okay?”
“I am good. I wish to speak with you about something before Thimi wakes.”
“Shoot.”
“Sophia asks if I will come to the city tomorrow to speak with Ariel about the years ago with my mother.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I have many of the emotion. I do not go to New York City since I arrive here. It is one year. It is also the long time since I see Ariel.”
“When did you see her last?”
“The last time I see Sophia before General Sotíras saves me. It is when I play the game of chase in the garden with Sophia. I am perhaps twelve.”
“That’s a long time. Are you going to be okay seeing her?”
“I have some of the anger problem with this. I do not understand why she takes my sister and does not take me.”
That was the first time Christy had referred to Sophia as his sister, and it sounded weird to Michael. “Did you talk to Rob about it?”
“I did. He says it is good to have the anger, but the expression is to be patient.”
“I know how hard that is, but I think he’s right.”
“It is very hard to do this.”
“I know, babe. I know.”
“General Sotíras wishes to go to the city with me.”
“Wow. Why?”
“He believes it is important to hear from Ariel directly for the trial in Greece.”
“That makes sense. You okay with that?”
“I am afraid Ariel does not speak if he is there.”
“He can sit in another room while you talk, right?”
“It is rude to do this.”
“Maybe not. Do you want me to go with you? I can sit with him.”
“You have the practice in the morning.”
“Don’t worry about practice. Jake and I have been workin’ it. I’d be happy to go with you.” Christy was silent for a moment too long, and Michael thought he’d lost the call. “You still there?”
“I would like this, Michael.”
The relief Michael heard in Christy’s voice was palpable. “Then I’ll be there. How do you want to do this? Me to drive you?”
“Kýrios Santini makes the limousine for the general. We will leave at seven.”
“Okay. I’ll be there by seven. You sure you’re okay with this?”
“If you are there, I will be well.”
Michael smiled to himself. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot to me. How’s your foot doing? Rob says Darien tackled you.”
Christy’s irritated huff was audible over the phone. “Rob should not tell you this. I am good. You do not need to worry.”
“Well, you were limping today.”
“This is not new for the foot. I live with this for the long time.”
“Yeah, I know. Your ribs?”
Christy huffed again. “I am good, Michael. Please do not worry.”
“I can’t not worry, babe. But I’ll try to keep it low-key.”
“This is the good idea. S’agapó, moro mou. I must go now. Thimi wakes.”
“Love you too. See you tomorrow.” Michael terminate
d the call, put off by Christy’s obvious disapproval of Rob telling him about the injuries. Christy should have told him, and it wasn’t fair for Christy to expect him not to worry.
He dialed Jake back. “Hey, bro. I got the full Wiki. I’m going to the city with Christy tomorrow. General Sotíras is going too.”
“Why’s the general going?”
“He told Christy it’s important that he hears directly from Ariel for the Greek trial. Will you tell Coach I won’t be at practice tomorrow?”
“Ahead of you, bro. I already told him we wouldn’t be there. I’m going too.”
“Why? I mean, not that I wouldn’t love you to be there, but what’s up?”
“Sophia’s a wreck about this whole thing. She has no idea what Ariel will say and doesn’t want Christy to think his mom favored her over Christy.”
“That would be all kinds of bad. Though I have to say I don’t think that’s what happened. I think Alexis honestly believed Christy would be safe with her.”
“We’ll find out.”
“Yeah, I guess we will. Thanks for going, Jake.”
“Always here for you, bro.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MICHAEL SET his bag of gear on the dryer, tossed his running clothes into the washing machine, added detergent, and started it. The kitchen was dim, only illumination from the small light over the stove casting a golden glow. His parents sat at the kitchen table chatting in low tones. His mom had a drink in front of her, and his anger at Rich and concern for her shot through him in equal measure. He tossed his keys on the counter, and his dad gestured for him to take a seat at the table.
“Did you have a nice dinner?” Mac asked.
“Yeah. Very. General Sotíras says to say hi to you guys.”
“Give him our regards.”
“Darien tackled Christy, and his ribs and foot are hurt again.”
Concern imbued Mac’s face. “It mustn’t be too bad if Rob didn’t call.”
“Christy wouldn’t let him.”
Mac’s expression went from concern to mild irritation. “I’ll give Rob a call in the morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about the motorcycles being at school?” Bobbie asked.
Uh-oh. Michael scratched his forehead with a thumbnail. “Ah, I forgot?”
“Michael.”
The weary exasperation in her tone had Michael’s worry mounting. “Seriously, Mom. Nothing happened, so it left my brain. I’m sorry.”
“Try not to forget if it happens again,” Mac said solemnly.
“Sorry, Dad. You okay, Mom?”
She met his eyes with a pained gaze. “No.”
Michael scooted around the table to the chair next to her and hugged her. “It’ll be okay, Mom. Promise. Detective Davis is all over it. Smitty is helping too, and he has his guys looking out for us.” She sighed and Michael pulled back. “Really, Mom. It’ll be okay.”
She only nodded.
“Do you like Dr. Jordanou?” Mac asked.
Michael was grateful for the change of subject. “He’s nice. He also seems really into what matters to Christy and Thimi.”
“That’s great to hear. What do you think of Thimi?”
“He seems okay, but he’s ten times more afraid of the world than Christy was when I met him. Like seriously afraid. When Sophia called and Christy stepped away to take the call, he wet his pants. It’s like terror rained down on him, and he lost it.”
Mac winced. “I can only imagine.”
“It really makes me want to do bad things to the people who hurt them. Yosef being numero uno on the list.”
“May he rot in hell,” Bobbie said.
“What you said, Mom.”
“Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about him any longer,” Mac said.
“I’m going down to the city tomorrow with Christy and Jake.”
“So we heard.”
“From who?”
“Nero.”
Bobbie shook her head as she looked off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. “That whole sister-brother thing baffles me.”
“The whole thing is too much,” Michael agreed.
“We shouldn’t judge. We can never know what happens in private family matters,” Mac said calmly.
“Yeah, Dad, but come on. This is the stuff of seventies fiction. Harold Robbins, anyone?”
Mac chuckled and Bobbie smiled. “How would you know anything about Harold Robbins?”
“Oh, hey, Mom, you have no idea what they did to me in my lit classes. The Carpetbaggers? The Dream Merchants? Better yet. Jacqueline Susann? It’s a wonder I didn’t drop out of high school and become a commercial fiction writer. I stayed strong. Be proud.”
Mac laughed outright, Bobbie couldn’t help but join in the laughter, and it made Michael happy he’d made his parents laugh.
“Some great spy novels came out of the seventies,” Mac defended.
“Oh, puhlease. I’ll read those, like, never.”
The bay window in the living room suddenly shattered with a deafening crash, and Bobbie jumped in her seat and screamed. Shock and fear shot up Michael’s spine as he left his chair without conscious thought and headed to the living room.
“Michael!” Mac yelled.
Flames engulfed the room from floor to ceiling, and Michael quickly stepped back, running into his dad. He stumbled as a second crash sounded and, from the sound of it, Michael knew it had to be his bedroom window or the window in the dining room. They were the only other large windows in the front of the house. His dad grabbed his arm, and he broke free. He had to get to the fire extinguisher. He found it under the kitchen sink and headed back to the living room. His dad was already on the phone with emergency services.
“Michael!” Mac called after him again.
Michael unleashed the extinguisher, but it was no use. The room was too hot, the flames too high, and the hallway was blocked. He dashed back through the kitchen, the laundry room, past the half bath, and hit the hallway at full speed. Again, he came to an abrupt halt. Thick black smoke billowed from his bedroom. It was hopeless. He dashed back to the kitchen. “Mom!”
She sat as still as a statue, shocked beyond reason and frozen in place. She was lost to the world. For all she could handle in an emergency room, an attack on her home was too much. He went to her. “Come on, Mom!”
She looked up at him, disoriented and powerless to move. He put his hands under her arms, hoisted her to her feet, and hooked her arm around his neck. With an arm around her waist, he moved toward the laundry room. “Come on, Dad!”
With Bobbie’s feet barely skimming the stone floor, Michael all but carried her out the back door to the pool area. He helped her into a chair and turned back. “Dad!” He headed back to the house as his dad exited, coughing and choking on smoke that now billowed from the doorway.
“The fire department is on its way,” he rasped.
Michael helped him into the chair next to his mom and turned back to the house. The sound of another window shattering reached Michael’s ears as black smoke billowed skyward and flames licked the roof around the chimney. Michael had been wrong. Seventies fiction wasn’t at hand; it was the horror fiction of the eighties wreaking havoc on the only home he’d ever known.
TWO HOURS later Michael walked through the sodden house with his dad. The fire department had arrived quickly, and the house hadn’t suffered as much as it could have, Michael supposed. But the smoke and water had laid waste to every room in the front of the house. The living room, the formal dining room, guest bedroom, and his bedroom were toast—literally.
“We’ll see more in daylight,” Mac said softly.
Michael scrubbed his face with both hands, willing his anger to stay in check. “This is so fucked-up.”
Mac sighed. “I agree.”
“Is Mom okay?”
“In shock. I had the paramedics start IV fluids.”
Jake came barreling through what was left of the front door, and
Mac shouted, “Be careful!”
Jake slowed, but it was too late. He slipped in glass and filthy water and caught himself against a wall. “Holy sh—crap!”
“You can say that again, bro,” Michael said softly.
“My mom’s with your mom. You okay?”
Michael nodded as he dug his toe into sodden melted carpeting. “Yeah. We got out.”
“The fire department says it was Molotov cocktails. Just like the one Jason threw into Christy’s cabin.”
Mac nodded, sadness in his eyes. “Several, apparently.”
“Un-fucking-believable! Sorry about the language, Dr. S., but un-fucking-believable!”
“Jacob.” Nero’s voice was stern and low as he stood in the entryway.
“Look at this, Papà!”
“I see. Mac, your clothing?”
Mac looked up at the ceiling and down the hall. “Let me see if I can get to the bedroom from the back. I don’t think the hallway is stable.”
“I’ll go. Stay here, Dad,” Michael said quickly.
Mac only nodded.
Jake made his way carefully through the morass that had once been the living room and followed Michael through the kitchen.
“You okay?”
Michael shoved the back door open hard, and it slammed against the house and bounced back. He shoved it again, and when it bounced back again, he kicked it and pinned it to the wall with a vicious foot. “Yeah. Scared Mom. She can’t take this.”
“I get that.”
Michael peered through the windows to the den. It was dark, but it looked intact. He went to the french doors that led to his parents’ bedroom. He tried them but they were locked. He swore and kicked a door. The beveled glass pane in Michael’s line of fire cracked. He rounded on a heel and headed to the plastic bin that held their outdoor gaming supplies. He rummaged through it until he found a wooden bat and withdrew it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna open the damn doors.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Do you have your keys?”
“Why?”
Jake pointed to the deadbolt lock in one of the doors.
Michael felt his pockets and swore before he remembered he’d tossed them on the kitchen counter. He went into the house, grabbed the keys from the counter, and headed back outside. After he jammed the house key into the lock and turned it with more force than necessary, the french door opened.