“Always.”
Call ended.
I called Bridge to let her know she’ll have to wait, and she was a bit more understanding when I told her why. I almostdidn’ttell her, just for the sake of sparing her the worry I know she’s gonna be dealing with, waiting to hear from me again. I saw Pops’ Jag when I pulled up to my mother’s favorite little diner. Bridget would never have any of the few happy memories I’ve got with Ma, actually being a child and ordering pancakes for dinner. I wondered if that was the reason he picked this spot. Somewhere I’d know I was safe. I walked in, happy to see he was alone and sitting by a window that gave me a view of the Nova. If anybody tries to fuck with it or toss a tracking device at it…they’ll have a hard time hiding it from me.
I slid into the booth across from him and we eyed each other in silence for a stifling minute. Somehow, he looks old today. He’s not young, by any stretch, but for some reason I think I can tell it more. Or maybe it’s just this place.
“I’m not apologizing for what I did. So, I hope you didn’t just waste my gas for it.”
His fingers tapped on the rim of his coffee mug on the table, and he narrowed his eyes a bit. “Smart. Gettin’ Decclan to cover ‘yer arse. Havin’ a middle man is also a leader move.”
“I’m not interested in leadin’ anything, Pop.”
The waitress popped over, smiling and asking if I wanted coffee and I only nodded.
“Well. Interested or not, ‘yer leadin’ this family to the slaughterhouse if Bridget doesn’t present herself. Want that on ‘yer conscience?”
I smiled and shook my head while she came back and poured me a mug. “Gonna try and talk to me about somethin’ you don’t have?”
“They can give Bridget a life, Malek. One where she’ll have some kind of place of power. She could—”
“You want Bridget to have a life like Shavonn’s? Short, terrible, and as bleak as an Irish winter?” I sipped from the mug, staring at the table when he went silent. “This didn’t have to happen. I warned you already. After the merge. That banquet shouldn’t have happened.”
“You can’t protect her forever, Malek.”
My head shot up. “I can, and I will. If that’s what it takes. Maybe fuckin’ Jonas will give her a life like Ma had with you, and maybe Bridget wouldn’t suffer a fate like my girl. But we’ll never know. We’ll both be dead men before it ever happens.”
“I hope ‘yer wrong about that. And we’ll find out. ‘Yer proposition on runnin’ the guns and the dope could pan out…if ‘yer the one makin’ the calls. All Bridget knows is the life of a rotten bairn. I’ve done my best to make sure it lasted as long as it could, but Malek…she’s not a bairn anymore. I’m sendin’ you to Belfast to distribute the contraband.”
Some part of me, the darkest part, was itching to slit my own father’s throat. Let his sorry ass bleed out right here in Ma’s place. At our favorite table. The other part, the one more like her…pitied him. I dunno how long we stared at each other in tense silence.
“The only way you’re sendin’ me anywhere is in a fucking box.” I pulled my knife out, flicking it open, and slid it across the table. “Go ahead. Prove to me that you have that conscience, Pop. I’m not leavin’ her here at their mercy. You might be makin’ everybody’s bed, but we sure as fuck don’t have to roll around in ‘em. You’re on your own.”
His hand slipped around the custom handle and his tired eyes didn’t leave mine. I made it easy. While it shook, discreetly pointing the blade at me, I covered his hand in both my own and leaned forward, bringing it closer to my neck. “There’s no leavin’ this lifestyle, Malek Byrne. It’s who we are.”
My lips turned up in the corners. “I don’t even thinkyoubelieve that, Pop. Make a liar outta me. It’ll be the second time today. First time ended perfect. Let’s try my Irish luck one more time.” The knife shook and I could feel the ghost of the blade breathing certain death on my skin. But he just stared at me. “Lucky me.”
I leaned back, taking the knife from him and finishing off my coffee before leaving him sitting at the table alone. I could feel his stare like a brand on my skin, the entire way to my car. I could still feel it twenty minutes down the road. Looks like my day job’s over. What that means for me and Bridget now…I’m not so sure.
I walked in more weary than I had planned to, coming back to Seven’s place. Bridget was curled up in the coffin with—with a fuckingbook?
“Do my eyes deceive me, or are you reading a book without pictures in it?” She gave me the finger without even looking my way. The mere fact that our father believes she’s not still a child, baffles me.
“Have you ever read any Edgar Allan Poe?”
I looked at her—really looked at her—and I wondered how she even turned out this way. Deep down, even though she’s only ever murdered mynerves, I’ve only wanted the best for Bridget. I wanna see her happy, although that’s a more outlandish notion than believing unicorns exist. I don’t think anyone actually knows, Bridget included, what would make her happy. It’s worth dying for, though.
“Not much. I used to read more in my early teens, but…”
“But Daddy fucked up any chance you had at enjoying a normal life.”
Maybe she’s not as immature as I like to believe.
“I guess that depends on your perspective. I could have said no the first time he had me kill someone.” I leaned against the island and propped a foot on the bottom of one of the bar chairs. She finally lowered the book and looked at me sadly. I don’t fucking like it. It’s uncharted territory and it feels too deep.
“No, you couldn’t have. You know it. Even if we both die by the end of all this, Malek…I just want you to know I’m grateful. I’m grateful that you give enough of a shit to fight for me. I do love your ridiculous ass.”
Fuck, Bridge…
