by Finn, Emilia
“It’s my fault,” I choke out. Finally, I meet Kane’s eyes and find my anger. “It was my fucking fault! And if it happens again, it’s your fault!”
“What?” Jess’ watery eyes come to her man. “What’s he saying? What’s your fault?”
“Katrina should never have met me!” I roar. “She never should have met me.”
“Cap thinks he should have died with his family,” Kane explains quietly. “I was with him, and I wouldn’t accept his bullshit about wanting to die.”
“Eric…”
“But it’s not the same,” Kane continues in a bland tone. “They’re behind bars, Cap. They’re gone, and this is why we started Checkmate, remember? Because the law doesn’t do what we can. The law has no room for vigilante justice when a man’s family is murdered. This is why we’re doing this. For them. For your girls.”
“They murdered my wife!” I roar. “On video. They filmed her begging for me; they filmed her tears and beaten body, and when my daughter unbound her ties and tried to protect her mother, they shot them both.”
“You had a daughter?” Jess cries. Her pregnancy hormones kick her ass and send her into a meltdown. “Oh my God. You had a baby? And you never told me?”
I turn to Kane with the deepest fury bubbling in my blood. “You were undercover, and you weren’t compromised. You blew it all for nothing. They should have put a bullet in my brain that night.”
“I wasn’t going to let you die, Cap! The job is to keep the cover, but family means I take care of you when you can’t do it yourself. The same way you watch my back.”
“And if it were Jess and your baby?”
Potent rage surges in his eyes. “It’s not Jessie and the babies! This has nothing to do with them, so don’t bring that shit to my home again!”
“But if it were!” I shove him back a step. Nobody shoves a Bishop and lives to tell the tale, but I’m not particularly fond of living anyway, and a part of my heart screams that they’d be doing me a favor by putting me down. “If it were them, would you go on and live a happy life? If it were them, would you move on after a little while and start fucking some other chick?”
“Gem and Callie are gone.” Jay moves between me and his brother. “They’re gone, and it’s a fuckin’ tragedy. We loved them too, Cap. We really did. I played Barbies with your daughter. I brushed her hair and read her a bedtime story. I considered her my niece! My family. I miss her like I’d miss my arm, and I know that’s nothing on what you feel. They’re missed. But they’re gone, and you aren’t. You vowed to live, remember? We promised we wouldn’t let you go, so you vowed to live and make those girls proud. Why do you get to change your mind now?”
“Because the woman I fell in love with is a single mom with too much to lose. It’s too similar, Jay! Knowing me is dangerous.”
“We’re civilians now!” Kane steps up so he’s shoulder to shoulder with his brother. “It’s all gone now. That old life, those people, all of that bullshit. It’s all gone, and we have protections in place in case they wanna come back. I’m allowed to have a wife and babies now, and they’ll be protected. Jay is allowed to have Soph, she’ll be protected. You are allowed to fall in love. We. Will. Protect. Them!”
“No.” Shaking my head, I stumble back a single step and crunch Jess’ poor toes beneath my boots. “I need space. I can’t watch a video like that again, but it’s all I see now.” I smack my temple with the heel of my hand. “It’s on repeat and won’t go the fuck away!”
“You need to just stop a sec–”
“No. You need to build bigger walls, a bigger army, and better protections so you’ll never know what I know. I don’t want to visit my girls’ graves anymore, Kane! I don’t want to sit on the grass on their birthdays and feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t want to count Mac’s birthdays and know he’ll be fifteen in May, then compare that to Callie, who should have turned fourteen last June.” I slam a fist to my chest. “I don’t want to hurt Katrina! I don’t want to dream of Gemma and Callie and have my subconscious replace their faces with Katrina and Mac. I see Gemma in my head, tied, beaten, bleeding. And then I see Katrina!” I circle my friends and stumble onto the front step. “It’s just… No.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jay demands. “Are you gonna be a pussy and hide from your problems? Are you gonna pretend you didn’t just admit that you’re in love?”
“No… I just…” I trip down the stairs on jelly legs. “I need space for now. I need to think.”
“Cap!” Kane takes a step forward. “You’re not thinking clearly right now.”
“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock! That’s why I need space.”
“You’re going to break something really good,” he snaps. “You’re going to hurt her if you run.”
“I’m not running from her. I’m just… I need a minute.” I race across the grass and slide in, but before I can get the engine roaring, Soph throws herself into the passenger seat and slams her door. She pulls on her seatbelt with quick hands, but her dark eyes remain on me and glitter with something that might border on grief.
“You’re having a moment, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to take it.” She sits tall and rests her elbow on the door frame while Jay stares at us with a gaping mouth. “I’m coming, because I know what you feel, and I’m never allowed to take a moment out without people making it weird. So we can hang out and not talk together.”
“Suits me.” I switch the engine on and pull away from the curb. Music continues to play, but I don’t hear a word they sing. I don’t hear the bass, the tempo, the sweet voices. I hear my daughter. S’okay, don’t be scared, Mommy.
“We have things now, Cap.” Soph’s eyes come to burn the side of my head. “Things that you never had when your wife and daughter were alive. Things I never had when my baby sister needed help. We have our own army; we have weapons; we have unrestricted access to any data you could ever dream of. We can do anything. It doesn’t fix what we lost, but it makes the future a little less bleak. You don’t have to break your heart over a threat that isn’t real.”
“But it is real, Soph.” I scrub a hand over my jaw to hide the way my voice shakes. “It’s so fuckin’ real. If it’s not Derrick, it’s Hayes. If it’s not Hayes, it’s Colum. If it’s not Colum, it’ll be someone else. We left, but we’ll never truly be out, because there’s always gonna be some fucker who wants payback for our part in their downfall. You know this, Soph.” I turn to catch her eyes before looking back to the road. “You know this as well as I do, because you’re still hacking data; you’re still tying loose threads; you’re still siphoning off dirty money. Which one of them will be our next threat? Which one do I have to watch to make sure my family is safe?”
“I don’t know.” The way her voice cracks almost undoes me. I know what it took for this woman to admit she doesn’t know something. For her to admit she isn’t all powerful. “I can fix what I know, Cap, and I can repair what’s been damaged, but I can’t predict the future. I can’t know of a threat if they haven’t attacked yet.”
“Which is why I need a minute,” I murmur. “I fell in love with an amazing woman, and now I have to decide how selfish I’m going to be. Keep her and put her at risk. Or walk away and watch from afar. It’s tearing me up inside to even think about. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to walk away.”
“Are you seriously considering ghosting her?” Soph’s eyes come back in my direction. “Really? You’d walk away?”
“I think…” I draw in a long breath, then let it out on a throat-clearing cough. “I think the right answer is yes, walk away. But the selfish answer is no, keep her, because I fucking earned her.”
“You deserve happiness.”
I scoff and pull into the parking lot at the back of my apartment. Shutting off the engine and sliding out, I wait for Soph to climb out, then I beep the locks closed. “I’m not sure I do, but I try to be a good person. I try to earn just a fraction of what I had.” I head up my stairs
and let my boots slam down and vibrate the steel. Keys in hand, I unlock the door and allow Soph to pass through first. “Soda’s in the fridge. Chips in the pantry. Don’t talk to me. I won’t talk to you.”
She mimics me, steps to the pantry with a grin as I move to my flashing answering machine, and repeats my words. “Suits me.”
I toss my phone and keys down beside the landline answering machine, and with Katrina’s beautiful face in the forefront of my mind, I hit play and wonder how much trouble I’ll be in when she wakes and finds out I ran. She’s going to be pissed, which’ll probably start me back at square one.
“Daniel.” The voice playing from my machine is a kind of slither. Like a fucking snake in the grass that draws Soph around with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t take my calls this weekend. Are you still mad I fucked your wife before she bit it?” Aren’s soft chuckle still somehow manages to fill my entire kitchen. “You move on fast, brother. Now you got the blonde hanging around and fixing your collar all the time, and the skinny brunette, the one that’s all sex on legs.” Soph’s eyes blaze and darken when she understands he’s talking about her. “Then you got the bitch with the mini pig. And the other one… what’s her name?” Don’t say Katrina. Don’t say Katrina. Don’t fucking say Katrina! “Jessie… Yeah. That’s her. And she’s incubating. Fuckin’ delicious. How’ve you been, DeWhit? Busy? Happy? Did you visit Gemma’s grave recently? Some punk ass kids smashed up her gravestone. Can you believe that? Those inconsiderate little pricks.”
Soph drops her food to the table and whips her cell out instead. A regular guy could assume she doesn’t give a fuck about this call and is instead surfing the net, but I know better. She’s working her magic. She’s begun the hunt.
By the time Aren hangs up, Soph’s face is hard like stone.
“Find him, Sophia! Find him!” I tear the machine from my wall and smash it against my door. Soph sits calmly in the middle of my kitchen while I rage around her, unbothered by my roared curses, unaffected when I sweep the shit from my counter to smash it against the floor, and unmovable when I tear my entire fucking door from the hinges and smash it to pieces. “Find him before he hurts us again!”
21
Katrina
THREE WEEKS LATER
I guess I should have expected how that story would end, right? Meet a nice man, give him hell, make him truly work for it, finally give in, fall in love and lower your protective barriers… and then he’s gone.
I’d had such an amazing time with Eric, and I was completely fooled into thinking what we’d shared was real. I thought what I felt was real. I thought what he’d said was real. So when I woke to find my bed empty that Sunday morning, I was more confused than angry. I wandered my apartment searching for him for an embarrassingly long time. So long that I vowed to never admit exactly how long to anyone. But once the smoke cleared and reality smacked me in the face, my anger arrived.
It’s kinda apt, right? Sleep with one man, he knocks me up and runs. Date another, he steals my heart and runs. Different kinds of heartbreak, but it all shakes out the same in the end.
I’d slept in until after eight that morning, after two days full of work and Eric, so I was exhausted, but for once, it was the good kind of exhausted. The kind where my vagina hurt and I walked a little funny, but my heart felt full and my smile wouldn’t stop stretching my face. By the time I woke, and then after my stupidly long search of my apartment only to come up empty, I was left with less than twenty minutes to shower, dress, text my son, and haul ass to work.
Maybe he was called out for work, I reasoned.
Maybe I snore too much, I hoped.
Maybe aliens had come and convinced him to cover my shift at work.
My romantic heart begged for a reason for his absence, something heroic, or at the very least, plausible, and my brain reasoned that he’d be sitting in his booth when I arrived for work. Maybe he had a ravenous craving for a lemon zesty burger that only Tammy could deliver. Anything was better than complete abandonment after the way he’d treated me like a queen the night before. He’d touched me with reverent hands, whispered words that spoke to my heart, and stroked my back while I slept.
He stroked my fucking back for hours, while he thought I was asleep!
What we’d had wasn’t a fast fuck in a car, and it wasn’t a one-night stand in a garage. I was so sure it was love and truly unique to us. Piece by piece, even after I warned myself not to do it, I fell in love with every word he spoke, with every touch and gentle caress. Eric broke away the layers that had been shielding my heart since I was a naïve teen in need of a hug, and then he exposed me; he made me feel something special; he made me fragile.
At the very first chance, he tossed my glass heart to the floor and smashed it. And in doing so, he’d effectively proved my point.
Men are users, liars, cheats, and thieves.
It’s been three weeks since that morning, and I’ve neither seen nor heard from him since. He wasn’t in the diner when I got to work that day. He didn’t come in the next day either, or the next, or the next after that. My brain and heart battled for dominance all day long until finally, after dinnertime with no word from him, I broke down and sent one single text: everything okay?
Just one.
I couldn’t bring myself to send more than that because my pride was hurt and my heart bleeding. And now with hindsight, I’m so glad I didn’t embarrass myself further. I refuse to be that girl.
Days passed with no reply, then a week, then two weeks. And in all of the minutes I counted, because I counted them all while I mentally rebuilt that wall that had served me so well for almost fifteen years, not one single reply came after the read receipt.
Eric knew that I was wondering, but he got what he wanted, and now he’s gone.
It’s almost as though sex wasn’t his only goal. He got that the first night in Angelo’s garage, and if it was all he wanted, then he could have run that first time. No, Eric DeWhit is sneakier than a regular thief and more dangerous than any of the men I feared before him. He wanted more. He wanted my love, too. He wanted all of that power, just so he could crush me in his strong hands and prove he had control all along.
Like asking for the specials, it was always about control.
“Mom?” Mac stops in my doorway with tired eyes and puffy cheeks. He’s suffered from a nasty cold the last few days and has been living on sinus medication and soup. He has a fight coming up and is anxious about missing training sessions, so he’s doubling down on his rest, washing his hands with extra care, taking his meds exactly on time, and sleeping every other minute that he’s not in school or doing homework. With a hand on the doorframe and his tall body dwarfed in a baggy shirt, he watches me through glassy eyes that actually make me feel bad. “Are you sure about this? Maybe I could come with you?”
“What? No.” Brave face. Act like everything is fine and fucking dandy. “It’s an eighteen and over venue, baby. You’re sick, plus, I only have two tickets.”
“But your butt can only sit in one of those chairs.”
“Meg is coming with me.” I fix my earrings and check myself in the mirror. I’m wearing jeans and a blouse as we move into a cold November. The snow is still a couple weeks away, but the air is biting as soon as the sun goes down. “You’re staying with Grandpa all night, okay?” I turn to him. “I swear, if I hear that you sneak out or make trouble, I’m gonna–” be heartbroken, “–beat your ass. Give me a night of no worry, okay? One single night.”
“I promise I’ll be good.” Coughing and sneezing in one explosion, he steps into my room and wipes the sleeve of his sweater beneath his nose. He watches the floor with drooping shoulders as though he’s miserable. Eric’s easy dismissal reminded me that I have responsibilities. The fact he so easily walked away when, only the night before, I’d suggested telling Mac about us, was a blessing in disguise. It reminded me exactly why I put rules in place about my son.
Mac doesn’t need to kn
ow that his mother is an unlovable sewer rat. He doesn’t have to know that I was interested. Really, really interested in who I thought was a wonderful man, only to be let down in the end. Life goes on as it always has, and a cold is the worst of his problems. It remains this way for as long as I hold up my act and keep my shit together.
Which is what I do. It’s what I’m doing tonight.
“Do you want me to stay here with you, baby? I could stroke your hair and help you sleep.”
“No!” His eyes shoot up. “I’m not that sick, Mom. It’s just a cold. I’m more worried about this thing tonight. Meg is cool and all, and if you’re gonna party with anyone, she’s a good choice because she’ll create fun if there is none, but I was kinda hoping you might find a guy friend to go with. You know, someone to buy you a drink, someone to buy you a concert t-shirt, someone to ask you to dance.”
“Honey.” I continue my ruse and select a bangle from my box of party jewelry. “You need to stop worrying about my love life. I don’t want a man; I don’t need a date.” I step away from my dressing table and stop in front of him. Reaching up, I cup his warm cheeks and frown. “You’re the only man I want for now, baby. You and Grandpa are amazing, and you’re all I need. You need to stop trying to set me up with men. Plus, it’s super weird.”
“I thought you liked DeWhit.” He doesn’t step away from my hold, which means he feels the way my hands jolt like his words are electric. “He’s nice, right? He smiles a lot, and he makes you smile when you’re not snarling.”
“Ray makes me smile too, honey. Stefan and Franky make me smile. It doesn’t mean I want to date them.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s because they’re old, Mom! They’re family. DeWhit isn’t super old, and he looks at you way different than Ray does.”
“Honey!”
“What?” He throws his hands up. “He looks at you differently. He thinks you’re pretty. He pays extra attention when you wear your blue jeans rather than the black. He likes you, so why don’t you at least try? What’s wrong with him?”
