“Dante…” He clears his throat. “Why do you have a girl handcuffed to our grandparent’s bed?”
“Because he’s an asshole.”
Lilah chortles and leans against the doorway. “I like her already.”
I step into the room. “Lucy, this is my brother, Elijah, and my sister, Lilah.”
Her eyes flick between them, sharp and narrow. “My condolences to you both.”
Elijah moves around the bed, his training instantly zeroing in on her knee. “What did you do to her?” he asks.
“I didn’t do this to her,” I say quickly.
“Not directly,” she mutters, holding her vicious stare on me.
“They’re here to help you, Lucy.”
“We are?” Lilah asks.
I glance at her in the doorway. “Please.”
Elijah leans over to get a closer look while lowering his medkit onto the foot of the bed. “Looks like a blunt object — thin, metal.” His eyes shift toward Lucy. “You were struck twice.”
“You can tell that?” she asks.
“Yes…” He unzips the front pouch on his kit and pulls out a pair of rubber gloves. “The first hit your kneecap straight on but the second didn’t—” He pulls the gloves on, pausing above her. “May I?”
Lucy shifts awkwardly before giving him a quick nod.
Elijah closes in but he doesn’t touch her. “The second bounced right off your lower thigh here.” He points at the black and purple bruise, tracing a line above her kneecap with a steady finger. “Whoever did this was very sloppy. This wasn’t planned. It was a crime of passion, as they say...”
Lucy’s face drops. Elijah waits for her to speak but quickly looks over at me. There’s a tension in the air and we all felt it the second we stepped into the room.
“Lilah—” He snaps his fingers at us. “Ninth grade. You twisted your ankle beating up that the Sullivan kid.”
She grins. “I remember…”
I furrow my brow. “So?”
“Gramps got her crutches,” he continues. “She used them for three days and they’ve been stashed in the garage ever since. Go see if you can find them.”
I look at Lucy. “I don’t—”
“Please?”
He widens his eyes, gesturing silently at me. He’s not going to get anything useful out of her with me lingering over his shoulder, but I don’t want to leave her alone.
“I’ll help,” Lilah says, sharing a quick nod with her twin. She tugs at my elbow. “Come on.”
I keep my eyes on Lucy. We make eye contact for a split second before she purposefully looks away again. Darkness grows in my gut but if she doesn’t want to see me then there’s not much I can do about it right now.
“Fine,” I say. “We’ll be right back.”
I walk downstairs quietly with Lilah, hoping to hear what they’re saying upstairs but Elijah is too smart for that. He keeps his voice steady and pleasant, like a suave, young doctor on television. My little brother has always been better at talking to people than I have — especially women, but I always gave Lilah credit for that one. She trained him well.
Lilah plows through the front door and manages to make it down to the grass before exploding. “Who the hell is that?!”
I pause, studying her amused eyes. “She’s a friend.”
“You don’t have friends, Dante.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Since when?”
I step around her toward the garage and she follows close behind. “I met her in Chicago.”
“Right, I figured,” she says. “Why the hell isn’t she still there?”
“Because she needed my help.”
I reach the garage and bend over to grip the handle. I tug at the door, but it barely budges off the ground.
Lilah sighs and slides her small fingers next to mine. “Move. You never could get this open.”
She brute forces it, pulling it open and sliding it back with little help from me.
“So, how long have you been dating her?” she asks, wiping her palms on her jeans.
“We aren’t—” I pause. A lungful of dust and mold greet me as I step inside the old garage. “It’s not like that.” I flick on the light switch, happy to see it still gives off enough light to navigate the stacks of old boxes lining the center. “She got into some trouble…”
“Cut the vague crap, Dante,” she says. “Why did you bring an outsider to our safe place?”
“Because it was a better option than leaving her there to die.”
“Still vague.”
“Lilah, I will explain everything later. Will you please just help me find the crutches?”
She reads everything she needs off my face. “Okay,” she says with a nod.
It’s strange to be back here. Almost surreal. The last time my siblings and I were here together, we were stacking these boxes. Elijah and me with packing tape. Lilah with a big, black marker, labeling each box on the off chance any of us ever came back here someday.
Elijah’s Junk. Dante’s Crap. Lilah’s Treasures.
That was ten years ago, give or take. We tracked down every record of this place and burned it to keep it safe. I’ve honestly forgotten what crap I decided was important enough to keep stashed away out here. I supposed that’s part of the job I committed myself to. No attachments. Take only what you need to survive. Who you are isn’t important anymore. The job is all there is. Your squad is all you need.
“I almost forgot about this stuff…” Lilah says, sliding a finger across the top of her own dusty box.
“You read my mind,” I reply. “Not sure I even want to know what’s inside anymore.”
“Could be fun to dig in again. Crack open a six-pack, laugh at our old photos.”
“Maybe.” My eyes linger on the walls around me, stalling so I don’t feel tempted. “Or this stuff was forgotten about for a reason.”
Lilah slides her boxes aside with her foot to get around them. “So, she’s pissed at you.”
I bite my cheek but push aside the frustration. “Yes, she is.”
“Does that have to do with her injury or you cuffing her?”
“Both.”
Her brows bounce. “Yikes.”
“There.”
I point upward, noticing the horizontal bars hanging on the wall above the side door, covered in dust and spiderwebs. I walk over to pull them down.
“God, I hated these things…” Lilah mutters, her button nose turning upward. “They were great for hitting you guys with, though. Fair warning to you.”
I go back to the house while Lilah pulls the door closed behind us.
Chapter 21
Lucy
“Well, that’s better.”
He extends his gloved hand to me as Dante’s hard steps disappear down the stairs with the mysterious redhead.
“Elijah Hart,” he greets.
“Lucy Vaughn,” I whisper, shaking his hand.
“When did this happen to you, Lucy?” he asks, looking back at my knee again.
I chuckle. “You tell me.”
He grins, chewing on his lip. “Couple hours. Five tops.”
“Not bad. So, you and Lilah are…?”
“Dante’s twin siblings.” He sifts through his bag again and pulls out a small, zipped-up case. “He didn’t mention us?”
I shrug. “I’ve known him for two days.”
“Ah.”
I watch him as he lays the open case out on the bed. There’s a syringe inside, along with a small vial of purple liquid.
“You’re a doctor?” I ask.
“Not exactly,” he says. “School was never really my thing, but I’ve had more practical experience than your average doc and everything else is posted online.”
I stare at him, confused but intrigued. He’s younger than Dante by a few years, I’d guess. Just as handsome and charming, too. His dark hair falls over his eyes as he slides the cap off the needle.
I flinch. “You’ve do
ne this before?”
Elijah smiles, bringing out a few of his more playful features. “You’re in good hands, Lucy. I will admit, however, that I have more experience with removing bullets and stitching knife wounds in our line of work, but blunt force trauma should be a piece of cake.”
He pushes the needle into the vial and fills it with the dark purple color. I stare at the needle as he walks to the corner and pulls the stool out from underneath the vanity in the corner to sit down on next to me.
I keep still but my pulse spikes in my chest. I’ve never liked needles… or anything sharp for that matter.
“What line of work is that? Snake Eyes?”
Elijah pauses.
“Dante told me some things,” I say.
“You’ve known him for two days and he told you about Snake Eyes?” he asks.
I nod, watching his face carefully as bewilderment crosses his eyes.
“Yes,” he answers my question. “I work for Snake Eyes.”
“Lilah, too?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Don’t let her hear the surprise in your tone,” he warns me with a chuckle. “It pisses her off when people don’t think she can do her job. My sister may be small but she’s very, very scary. In fact, she’s one of the best agents they have, or had.” He shrugs. “I guess we’re all unemployed now.”
I twitch, torn by fear and curiosity. “Cool,” I say.
He shows me the needle. “I want to inject you with this. It’ll numb your leg so I can take a better look at your knee.”
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Just a very mild anesthetic commonly used on… large animals…”
“It’s a horse tranquilizer?”
He smiles. “It’s a horse tranquilizer — but my own special serum with none of those wacky Ketamine side effects. It’ll keep you lucid. I need you to talk to me while I inspect the damage, okay?”
I squeeze the bedspread, staring at the large needle with nervous apprehension. “Okay…”
“You won’t feel a thing unless I want you to.” His voice rolls down my back, soothing and confident. “I promise.”
I look at his hand, solid as a rock. He definitely has experience. I doubt Dante would have left us alone if he didn’t trust him.
“Go ahead,” I say, trying desperately to keep my voice from shaking.
“I’ll inject you four times—”
“Four?!” I jerk away, clanking my cuff against the bed.
Elijah holds up a firm hand. “One on each side of your knee,” he says, keeping his grin. “But as I said, you won’t feel a thing.”
I fidget against the iron bed frame, digging my nails into my palms.
“Here,” he says. “Close your eyes. Count to ten and I’ll be done.”
I do as he asks and close my eyes. His hand grazes my knee, but no pain shoots up my leg. A burst of warmth surrounds my kneecap, almost like my leg swallowed a gulp of delicious hot chocolate on a snowy day.
I crack open one eye and I see him slide the needle out of my skin and shift it sideways to inject the front side. “Whoa…”
He keeps moving, pushing the needle in and shooting me up on all sides until it’s empty.
“All done.” He sets the needle down and looks at me. “How was that?”
“I didn’t feel a thing…” I say, staring at my knee. “Anything.”
“I inherited the healing touch. Lilah… not so much.” He sits back in the chair, smiling. “Sit tight. It takes a few minutes to kick in.”
“It feels warm.”
“Good.” He pauses, his eyes looking me up and down. “So, how do you know my big brother?”
I lie back against the headboard. “He was sent to kill my father.”
His eyebrows bounce. “Did he?”
“No.” My mind flashes back to that stage. “No, he didn’t.”
“Dante is sent to kill your dad… and you end up cuffed to a bed out here? How does that happen in just two days?”
“I’ll be sure to let you know once I’ve processed it…”
Elijah leans over and touches my knee with two fingers. A bolt of dull pain teases my skin.
“Feel that?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, wincing.
He sits back. “So, why are you cuffed? If you don’t mind me asking…”
“I… tried to steal his car.”
“Are you here against your will?” he asks. “Because I’ll get Lilah to kick his ass for you.”
I shake my head. “No, I guess I’m not. He… saved me, technically.”
“From who?”
I close my eyes, fighting the tears just begging to come out. “From the man who did kill my father.”
“You must have made quite the impression on him, then,” he says. “It’s pretty unprecedented for my brother to give a crap about anybody. Except the two of us, of course.”
“I guess you could say I did.”
Elijah chews on his lip, staring at me with fascination before turning his attention to my knee again. He taps it twice with his knuckle.
“Feel that?” he asks.
I glance at it as he touches me again. “No.”
He pinches my kneecap between two fingers. “Not this?”
A chuckle escapes me. “Nope.”
“Good.” He slides the stool inward, drawing as close to the bed as he can. “Let’s see if we can’t get this cleaned up…”
I watch him work, his hands wiping my blood away with moist pads from his kit. I expect pain at any moment, but the drug works magic on me. No pain, no pressure. It’s like I’m standing over his shoulder, staring down at some other girl’s busted knee.
I chew on my tongue, begging to ask the question that’s been plaguing me since the moment it happened.
“How bad is it?” I finally ask.
“Well…” He feels the bone with his fingertips, shifting the cap around in my skin. “It could be much worse.”
“That doesn’t sound very good.”
“It’s not bad, though. Here…” He reaches for my hand and lays my fingertips down on my knee. “You feel that?”
I touch my knee, feeling the jagged line marking the top of it. “Yes…”
“It is broken — but it’s secure.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means no surgery, for one,” he says. “Just a cast — preferably — and lots of downtime.”
“For how long?”
“A month or two?” he says. “Maybe more before you can start bending it again and then loads of physical therapy after that. It’s hard to say whether you’ll regain full mobility. I can’t tell much without a proper x-ray…”
His voice trails off.
I bite my inner cheek, holding back tears. With everything I’ve lost in the last few hours, I didn’t want to add my ability to dance to that list. My whole life, my body has been the only thing I could count on. The only thing I could control and shape and understand…
“Lucy, what are you?” Elijah asks me.
A single tear falls, but I brush it away quickly. “I’m a ballet dancer.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He inhales slowly. “Hey, you’re in good shape. With your age and experience, who knows, eh? I’m not even a real doctor.”
I laugh. “No offense, Elijah, but you don’t seem anything like your brother.”
“Oh, believe me, Lucy, I’ve always taken that as the greatest of compliments.”
The front door opens downstairs.
“I’ll be back,” he says, looking out into the hall. “I’m just gonna find something I can craft a splint out of for you. Okay?”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He pats my hand before standing up, a kind gesture that he makes seem sincerer than anyone else could.
I make it until he’s halfway down the stairs.
Then, I start sobbing.
Chapter 22
; Dante
“Wow…” Elijah murmurs as he steps into the dining room.
I look up from the filthy crutches laid out on the table. “In the garage, just like you said. Will probably take a few wipes to get the shit off, but they seem fine otherwise.”
Lilah hands me a wet rag and takes the seat next to me. “What’s she like?” she asks Elijah with wide eyes.
“She’s… nice,” he answers.
“And…?”
She grabs her own cloth and snatches one of the crutches off the table to wipe it clean.
“And…” Elijah drags out the nearest chair and sits down across from us, his eyes burrowing a hole in my skull. “She’s a ballet dancer. Just like Mom.”
I feel Lilah tense up beside me. “Don’t read into that.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
I meet his burning, judgmental eyes. “I’m cleaning the crutches.”
“You know what I mean, Dante. What’s your game with her?”
“My game?”
“What’s going on with her?”
“Nothing is going on, Elijah,” I say, wiping the dirty pole clean. “She needed my help. I brought her here.”
“And you immediately tied her up?”
“She tried to take off back to Chicago.”
“So?”
I sigh and toss the cloth down on the table. “Did she tell you who did that to her?”
“No, but she seemed to know an awful lot about Snake Eyes which is a serious breach of protocol.”
Lilah’s jaw drops in anger. “You told her about us?”
“With Snake Eyes gone, there is no protocol anymore,” I argue.
Elijah blinks and his eyes fall on Lilah. “Well, okay then.”
“Eli, don’t you dare touch her.” I turn to Lilah. “Either of you.”
Lilah looks away from me, her eyes locking on Elijah’s and he throws up his hands.
“We’re not threatening anyone here, Dante,” he says.
“But…” she adds, pausing. “This whole situation is a tad uncharacteristic for you.”
I pick up the cloth again. “Things change.”
Elijah sits back and runs an impatient hand through his thick hair. “Who bashed in her knee?”
“Marty Zappia,” I answer.
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