by Hamel, B. B.
Mona grimaced. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.”
“Then to feel this way about Ren, it’s confusing. I thought I wanted to get away from men like him, like my father, and now—” I shook my head and threw my hands up in the air.
“Are you sure Ren’s like your father?” she asked softly. “He’s not in the family, after all.”
“No, but he’s like them.”
“Maybe—”
“No, Mona. Pretend all you want, but I’m telling you, he’s just like all the rest of them.”
She watched me without speaking for a few seconds as I caught my breath. I felt like I was on the verge of panic again, but I didn’t understand why. She stood and walked over, then gently directed me back to the couch. I sat down, leaned forward, and ate some soup.
She sat and ate in silence next to me.
We stayed like that for a few minutes. Eating felt good, and I wondered idly if I needed to have more regular meals. I’d been living on snacks and whatever Ren put in front of me, which probably wasn’t healthy.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but Ren’s not a bad man.” Mona broke the silence, and part of me wished she wouldn’t. “Just because he’s wrapped up in this world doesn’t mean he’s evil. Maybe he’s complicated, I’ll give you that, but he clearly cares about you, and I think you need to remember that. It’s rare to find a man willing to go as far as him.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, frowning down at my lunch.
We changed the subject and spoke about simple things, about the house and the food, and eventually she left. I wished she would stay, but I knew she had better things to do than babysit me.
“By the way,” she said, standing in the doorway, looking back at me. “Do you want me to send you some paints again?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.
“It can’t hurt. Ignore them if you want.” She waved then left, and I leaned back on the couch and groaned, squeezing my eyes shut for a while.
I knew she was right. Ren wasn’t a bad man, even if he did bad things. He cared about me, and that had to mean something. There were so many supposedly good people in this world, and none of them had ever done a damn thing for me, never put their life on the line to save mine, and yet there was Ren, a bastard, a beast, risking himself to keep me alive. That had to count for something.
Ren came back a little later. He stormed into the room and poured himself a drink before looking at me with a little smile. I perked up, head tilted.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, say it.”
He gestured at me with the drink. “You look—” He stopped himself.
I glared. “Finish that sentence.”
“You look good.”
“You were about to comment on the fact that I’ve showered.”
He pretended to be surprised. “What? I would never comment on a lady’s cleanliness. Although, to be fair, going three days without showering isn’t ideal.”
I clenched my jaw—then burst out laughing.
God, he was right. I was depressed and anxious and disgusting, and if I were him, I would’ve hosed me off.
Of course, I wasn’t going to say that out loud. But my laughter made him smile, and that was good, at least.
He drifted over and sat down next to me, closer than he probably should have, but I liked it.
“I talked to a friend earlier,” he said, almost casually. “He’s a guy on the periphery of the game.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“You know, thinks he’s a badass. Fucking around with shit he probably shouldn’t. Won the lottery and day trades now. I think he sells some weed on the side too.”
“Okay,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sure what this has to do with anything.”
“He told me that the Leone family isn’t doing too well.”
I went still. “How’s that?”
“The war. They’re losing.” He didn’t move. He watched me carefully, probably waiting for some kind of reaction. I thought I should give him one, but I didn’t think I had anything inside of me, not really.
I slumped back against the couch. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I have him keeping an ear out for more news.”
“You don’t trust Vincent, do you?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“Then what should we do? We’re not a part of any of this.”
“No, we’re not.” He hesitated and looked away, and I could see the pain he must’ve been going through, although I didn’t entirely understand it. “But I don’t think he’ll let you go.”
“Why not?”
“Your father. He still matters, right? The Chicago family still matters.”
“I don’t see how. They’re far away.”
He stood suddenly and paced away. I watched him, heart beating hard. I wanted him to come back down and press his thigh against mine, put an arm across my shoulder, kiss my neck—anything to tell me he was still close.
“It’s about money.” He looked at me finally. “I think the Philly family’s going through some difficulties, and Vincent needs cash from Chicago.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m guessing,” he admitted. “But I think I’m right anyhow. I think you’re part of that deal.”
“So, what, we’re prisoners here then?”
“More or less, I think so, yeah.”
I laughed a little at the absurdity of it, but he didn’t smile, and my laughter died hard.
“You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m not trying to.” He gestured toward the window. “We could probably leave any time we wanted, but I have a feeling that after a few days, Vincent’s goons would show up on our doorstep, politely inviting us back here. I think Vincent’s desperate right now, and he needs the cashflow from out west to keep things running.”
“Including your pay.”
That stopped him in his tracks. “What?”
“Your pay.” I stood up. “You’re getting a cut of all this, aren’t you?”
“Of course they’re paying me.”
“Then of course you want to stay. If we skip out now, how are you going to get your cash?”
Anger flashed across his expression. Good, I liked that anger. I wanted him to be pissed off. Anger was better than the strange, half-worry as he paced across the room. I wanted him fired up with rage, not wringing his hands and wondering how we were going to escape.
“It’s not about that and you know it.”
“No? You’re a thief, Ren. It’s what you do.”
“Careful,” he snarled
“Why the hell should I be careful? You’re working for Vincent, you said it yourself. You want your goddamn money. Why the hell would you do anything but his bidding?”
He took a couple steps toward me, and for a split second I felt afraid, like I’d made some horrible miscalculation, and he wasn’t the man I thought he was. I saw him do something drastic in that moment, in my mind, but he stood a foot away from me, body tense with anger.
“I do nobody’s goddamn bidding,” he said, voice low. “I’m here because I want to be. If I didn’t give a shit about you, and this was all about money, you really think I would’ve risked my life for you back at that house?”
I knew he had a point. I was pushing him, riling him up, because it made me feel good to see him care. And in a lot of ways, his anger mirrored my own, except when he was angry, he did something about it while I hid away and felt sorry for myself.
His anger was better than mine. I wanted him angry for both of us.
“You weren’t thinking,” I said.
“I was thinking, all right. I knew what I was doing. I still went out there and pulled that trigger.”
“Good for you. I guess you know where you next meal’s coming from.”
He stood there, unmoving, breathing hard, and I wanted
him to kiss me so badly it hurt.
“All right then,” he said, voice low. “You want it to be like that? Fine, we can have it like that.” He turned away and stalked to the door.
Disappointment hit me. I pushed him too far. I wanted to tell him to stay, beg him to forgive me—but I couldn’t make the words come.
He hesitated before leaving, looking back over his shoulder. I saw hurt in his eyes.
He left, shutting the door firmly behind him, leaving me alone in the room again.
I curled up on the couch and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like a bastard, and unable to stop myself. I was a goddamn mess and I knew it.
11
Ren
I didn’t know what the hell her problem was, but I couldn’t stay in the room with her for another second.
The idea that she’d accuse me of using her to make money was insane. They weren’t paying me nearly enough to risk my life for her—and yet she still threw that in my face like it was some kind of horrible truth. She had no goddamn idea how I felt about her, because she was too busy paying attention to her own suffering and selfishness to look outside of herself for one second.
If she did, she’d see that I wanted her beyond all reason.
Damn girl knew how to push my buttons though.
I got the sense she took some sick pleasure in doing it. I wasn’t sure why, maybe she was coming out of her shell a little bit, or maybe she wanted to try and push me away—and hell, if that was her goal, then mission accomplished. But that didn’t mean I was finished advocating for her.
I spent the day calming down. I had more work to do, but I couldn’t do it with a hot head. I had a strong feeling my theory was right about Chicago and why Amber was important to Vincent, but I had to prove it first before we could act on that information. Otherwise, I’d be making a pretty enormous assumption, and that sort of thing can end up getting both of us killed.
I found Mona curled up with a book in one of the downstairs lounges. She looked up and smiled as I approached. “There he is, bodyguard extraordinaire.” She tilted her head at my expression. “What’s the matter?”
I shrugged and sat in a low leather armchair across from her. The room was warm from a crackling fire. The carpet was plush and dark blue, and the decor was a sleek midcentury modern. The walls were lined with bookcases, and I got the sense that this was Mona’s particular spot: so many small things, like a stack of New Yorkers, and crumpled newspapers in the trash, suggested her touch in particular.
“I need to talk to Vincent.”
She laughed. “Right to the point, huh.”
“Figured I shouldn’t waste your time.”
“You can go talk to him.” She gestured at the door. “His office is down the hall.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that.”
She tilted her head. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“It’s about Amber.”
She looked at me for a few seconds then shut her book. “You care about her, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“More than you expected?”
I nodded and didn’t answer.
“And now you’re worried about what my husband’s going to do.”
“More or less.”
She sighed and stretched her legs. I watched her carefully, and began to temper my expectations slightly. I saw her as an outsider here, as a part of the family, but not quite indoctrinated into its way of being. The mafia, like most crime families, was packed with violent dickheads and paranoid psychopaths, and the Leone family was no exception. Living in a family like this meant you had to suspect everyone and assume the worst at all times, and most people couldn’t live like that.
Apparently, Mona could. I realized she was shrewd, and smart, and probably craftier than I thought at first.
“I can get you in there to talk to him, if this is really for Amber.” She leaned toward me, eyes flashing in the firelight. “But you have to know that girl’s fragile, right?”
“I understand she’s been through some shit.”
“And that shit’s coming back for her right now. You need to be patient.”
I felt my jaw clench. I was being patient, damn it. I nursed her back to the world and slept on her couch for days so she’d feel safe and protected. I was patient as hell.
“I’m trying.”
“Good.” She stood. “Come on then.” She drifted to the doorway. “How much is my husband paying you, by the way?”
I flinched. I didn’t love being asked about that twice in one day. “A lot,” I said.
She nodded and we stepped out into the hallway. “I want some of that money to go to Amber when this is all over.”
“What?”
She turned to me, our bodies close in the dim hallway. Her voice was hushed by the plush carpet and I felt like a spy in some movie.
“The only thing that’s going to save her in the long run is money,” she said. “She needs freedom to get away. Money can do that.”
“You think my money’s what she needs?”
“I think you’re getting more than you need from my husband.”
I smirked and shook my head. “I’ll help Amber. But I’m not giving her cash.”
“Ren—”
“She doesn’t need money,” I said, before she could argue. “Money’s just a band-aid. She needs someone to be there for her no matter what happens.”
“You think that’s you?”
“I think it could be, if we survive this mess. And step one is letting me talk to Vincent.”
She hesitated and I saw a moment of anger flash into her eyes. But she turned and walked again, and I hurried to follow, a small smile on my face.
I had to admit, Mona was terrifying, but in a good way. I liked that she was aggressively looking out for Amber, even if it was at my expense. And maybe giving Amber money was a good idea. I wasn’t going to tell Mona that, or mention it to Amber, but maybe when this was all over—maybe some of that money should go to her.
Hell, maybe all of it.
Mona reached a set of intricate double doors. She held a hand out to me. “Wait there,” she said, then knocked three times before stepping inside.
I stood alone for a few minutes until Mona emerged again. She nodded and gestured.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Good luck. He’s in a shit mood.” She smiled sweetly and stalked off.
I grunted and stepped into Vincent’s office. It was large, with a conference room table on the left, and a poker table on the right. Dead set in the middle was a huge wooden desk, flanked by tall bookshelves. Vincent sat at the table on the left, his sleeves rolled up, a bunch of papers spread out in front of him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was an overworked accountant.
I walked over, but didn’t approach too close. He looked at me and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I wanted to talk to you about Amber.”
He gave me a look with those intense eyes for a long second. I could imagine that look making lesser men very uncomfortable. It only made me very annoyed.
“My wife says you care about her.”
“Your wife’s smart. But it’s less about Amber, and more about her family.”
Vincent tilted his head. “How’s that then?”
I drifted closer. “The war’s not going good, is it?”
His face showed nothing. “We’re fine.”
“I hear the Dusters are doing some damage.”
“They’ve been frustrating. That’s all.” An edge to his tone. I decided not to push harder.
“Amber’s family is sending you money, aren’t they?”
A moment of surprise. “What do you mean?”
“The Leone family out in Chicago. They’re sending you cash, and part of that deal is you keep Amber safe. How far off am I?”
He leaned toward me, a menacing look in his eye. “Careful.”
�
��I’m trying to get a sense of what we’re embroiled in here. The way I see it, I could take Amber right now, bring her out to California, and we could stay there until this all blows over. But I have a feeling you won’t let me do that.”
“She’s my family,” he said. “She belongs here.”
“Because if we ditched out, the Chicago Leones might not send so much money anymore. I bet they wanted you to hire a whole goddamn security team, and instead you got me on the cheap.”
He snorted. “You’re not cheap.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re way off base, and even if you weren’t, what would it matter? You’re safe here. Amber’s safe here. The incident at the other house was a fluke.”
“Maybe, but I’m not so sure. I think you should let me take her away and—”
“Out of the question.” He glared at me. “Is that all you wanted?”
“Guess so. Good to know where we stand.”
“This war is going to be wrapped up in days. Stop worrying so much about something you can’t control.” He looked away, but I could tell he was annoyed. “Go back and watch over Amber. Do your job, get paid, and be happy. I don’t want to talk about this again.”
I lingered, watching him, and that was all the confirmation I needed. I wasn’t going anywhere with Amber, no way in hell, and that meant this war was going to get a lot worse before it got better. I turned and left his office, and I felt his eyes on my back as I shut the door behind me.
I was angry with Amber, I couldn’t deny that, but I also couldn’t act so damn shocked that she was lashing out. She was stuck in this place with no friends and no allies, and I was more or less all she had in the world. I couldn’t imagine that being easy.
I had to get over my own frustration and find an out for both of us before this war got worse.
12
Amber
I woke up before sunrise the next morning and found Ren sleeping on my couch again.
A strange thrill ran through me when I saw him sprawled out, one arm up over his head, breathing slow and steady. Blankets were tangled around his body and his shirt was half-pulled up, exposing his muscular abs and chest, and I stood there for a moment, admiring him, feeling grateful that he came back, knowing I didn’t deserve it. I was tempted to wake him up, but snuck past him instead and out into the hallway.