Duke laughs at this. "Can't fight it, kid." He gives me a playful shove toward the SUV. "She forgive you?"
"Yeah."
"Then you're fucked.” He grins at me. “May as well just accept your fate as a kept man, now, kid.”
I climb into the third row to make room for the two massive bodies that are Thresh and Duke; Thresh, in particular, has to hunker down with hunched shoulders and a ducked head, even with his knees drawn up like a grown man sitting in one of those little kid seats at the library. Puck is driving, Harris is in the front seat next to Puck, and Anselm is in back with me; the RMI guys take up the rest of the SUVs, behind ours.
"How'm I fucked?" I ask.
Duke just laughs. "Bro, c'mon. You tricked, lied, and manipulated her into the hands of a notorious trafficker in all things nefarious. A woman isn't going to just forgive that unless she's in love with you. Not even Bryn."
"Whassat mean, not even Bryn?"
"Oh, well, she's just…she burns hot, temperamentally. Gets pissed off easily, but forgives and forgets just as easily. Like her mama. You just don't want to get on her bad side, because if you do manage that, she won't ever forget." Duke rolls a shoulder. "Bryn is super understanding, kid. Open-minded. Caring. But not especially given to handing out her heart. She's never brought a guy around, except Zero."
The Suburban goes quiet, then.
"R-I-P, Zero," Puck says. "You were a one-of-a-kind weirdo."
"She hasn't said much about him," I say. "Just that he died in a car accident not long before the wedding."
Harris sighs. "It's hard for her to talk about. He’s hard for her to talk about. We all got worried about her when that happened. She'd lived a pretty damn charmed life till then. Zero was…" he sighs again, shakes his head. "He was cool. I don't say that lightly. He just had this way of…I dunno."
"You wanted to hang out with him," Duke says. "He was one of those people that just has music inside them. It was as much a part of him as his name or his hands or whatever. He could play just about anything. Just pick it up and play, whatever it was."]
"Took some of us a bit to accept him for her," Puck says. "He was fuckin' weird. Goofy. Unpredictable. Fuckin'…zany. But yeah, he was the epitome of effortlessly cool. She loved the shit outta that boy. She was damn near ruined when he died. Didn't smile for months.”
"Layla had to physically drag her out of bed and force her to shower and eat," Harris answers, his voice heavy with memory. "We forced her to talk to a therapist. She hated us for that, but when she realized it was helping, she threw herself into it."
"That and training," Duke says. "She must've spent hundreds of hours at the range, practicing room clearing, sparring, stripping weapons, and all that shit."
"She's like both of us in that sense," Harris answers. "Needs to stay busy to cope. She was happy as a clam touring with Zero, acting as his manager and assistant, making his life easier so he could focus on music. When that ended, she didn't know who she was or what she wanted anymore."
"I think she's found it," I say.
Harris turns to look at me. "Meaning?"
I gesture at the occupants of the Suburban. "This. The family business. I say this as an operator, not someone who's got feelings for her—she's a goddamned bloody natural at this shit. Cool under fire. Doesn’t hesitate—except that once, and we all know how that goes. She does what needs doing, learns fast, and listens. Her aim is fuckin' spectacular."
Harris thuds his head against the headrest. "Wonderful."
I laugh. "Not happy with that news, ey?"
He rolls his head against the headrest. "Would you want your daughter to follow in your footsteps?"
I consider that. "Fuck no."
"Exactly."
"You have men watching them, yeah?" I ask. "My girl and her grandparents."
"Six of them. The house is being renovated after what happened, so Val sent them to Disney World. Private jet, armed escort, line passes, the works."
I lean forward. "Wait, what?"
He snorts. "Oh, I must've forgotten that part. My bad."
I rest my face in my hands. "I had plans of taking her to Disney World after her treatment." I savagely suppress my disappointment. "Glad she's getting to go, though, even if it's not with me. God, I've got a lot to thank Mr. Roth for, don't I?”
