What if she’s already beyond help? What if her disappearance has nothing to do with Biba, and she’s had a stroke, leaving her incapacitated in an alley somewhere? What if Bibadoeshave her, but Tommy’s connections aren’t enough to get her back?
Biba is a hateful, horrible man. I have no doubt he’d kill my grandmother just to hurt me. I know Tommy thinks he’s equally as tough as the Russian Vor, but how could he be when I’ve seen so much kindness from him? Biba isn’t capable of kindness or love. An enemy like that is on another level, and I worry that Tommy can’t possibly win against someone so depraved. In a way, it’s a good problem to have. I’m glad Tommy isn’t like Biba, except it doesn’t help get Gran back.
The leaden weight of my fears drains my energy such that even simple conversation on the way home feels exhausting. Thankfully, Tommy isn’t the chatty sort, so I spend the time trying to fortify myself for whatever life has in store for me next.
Turns out, it’s a complete curveball having nothing to do with Biba or Gran.
An hour after returning home, Tommy has a visitor stop by. A woman visitor. She looks like a cross between a news anchor and a runway model—impeccably dressed with a smile that could end wars. Her chestnut hair is silky smooth in a way my red frizz could never comprehend, and her lean musculature suggests she has a second home in a Pilates studio. Her name is Carmen, and she’s friendly.Veryfriendly.
I watch with escalating irritation as she continues to hold Tommy’s arm after greeting him with a hug. And a smile. And a kiss on the cheek. And a plethora of compliments.
Tommy motions to where I stand in my yellow muslin sundress like Anne of Green Gables fresh from the garden. “Carmen, this is Danika.” Despite repeatedly calling me his wife or fiancée every chance he gets, Tommy is suddenly silent on the matter, and I’m stunned to find myself fighting back my own declaration.
Instead, I smile and reach forward to shake her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Carmen.” Such an alluring name—so sultry without even trying. I hate it.
“The pleasure is all mine.” She clasps my hand in a shake¸ then brings it closer as if to examine me for imperfections. “Your skin is flawless. Whatever you use to moisturize, it’s working wonders.” As if that isn’t awkward enough, she looks at me from top to bottom without any attempt to disguise her perusal. “Yes, Tommy. You’ve done very well, love. She’s absolutely stunning.”
Tommy frowns. “I’m not her father. I had nothing to do with her genetics.”
Carmen waves him off with an airy laugh. “You know what I mean, silly. You chose well—the same with this place.” She does a slow spin to scan the apartment. “I’m so glad I got to stop by and see the progress.”
She’s been here before, in his home, and recently since he hasn’t lived here long.
I don’t know who this woman is or why I’m having such a visceral reaction to her, but it’s taking everything I have not to stomp my feet to the guest bedroom and lock myself inside.
“It still needs a few more paintings, according to my designer. I enjoy the simplicity.”
“You’re so right. I appreciate it when a beautiful work of art can be cherished without clutter distracting the eye away. Why have it if you’re not going to spotlight it? I think the same goes for fashion. Don’t you agree, Danika?” She looks back at me expectantly. “But of course, that depends on whether you want the focus on the dress or the woman wearing it.”
“Um, I guess,” I say limply, not sure if we’re talking hypotheticals or if she just called me out for being plain.
Tommy’s phone rings, capturing all our attention. The angular lines of his face sharpen in severity when he sees who’s calling. “Yeah?” He pauses, then adds, “Got it,” and disconnects. “Carmen, I hate to send you on your way so soon, but something’s come up.”
I desperately want to ask if it’s Gran, but not in front of the succubus.
Carmen waves him off. “Not at all. I’m on a tight schedule today, anyway.”
Bye, Felicia.
“Tomorrow,” Tommy says in a firm tone.
Wait, what?
My poor heart can’t decide if it’s drowning or flying or fretting. What’s tomorrow? Was the call about Gran? Why isn’t this woman leaving already?
Carmen tosses her head back in a peal of bubbling laughter. “Oh, Tommy. You’re pushing your limits, but I can’t say no to you. Now, Ireallyhave to get going.” She comes to give me a kisson each cheek. “Until tomorrow!” she calls over her shoulder on her way out the door.
I take two swift steps forward and slam the door behind her. For a second, Tommy and I stare at each other, equally surprised by my actions.
“Um, I … I was anxious to know about the call.” And send a parting message to the she-demon. “Was it about Gran?”
“It was. We have her location.” He starts unbuttoning his cuffs while walking to the bedroom. “I’m getting changed, then DiAngelo and I will go retrieve her.”
“Where is she? Is she okay?” I have to hurry to keep up with his long strides.
“She’s at a hotel in Brooklyn—no word on her condition.” He puts on a black undershirt, then a black long-sleeve shirt on top, completing the SWAT look with black cargo pants and black boots. I watch in silence because the outfit reminds me of the severity of the situation. Tommy is about to raid a hotel room—guns will most certainly be involved, and any number of people could end up dead, including Tommy and Gran.
My chin quivers as I fight back a torrent of fear.
