by Hamel, B. B.
“How were your errands?” she asked, frowning at me as I wandered to the balcony and looked outside.
“Talked with Dean,” I said. “Everything last night was taken care of. So we’re in the clear.”
“I didn’t know that was up in the air.”
“It’s always in the air until it’s not.” I looked back at her and she glanced down at the counter, unable to meet my gaze. “How are you holding up today?”
“Fine,” she said, and hesitated. “Sore, a little bit.”
I smirked and tilted my head. “Sorry about that. I can be gentler, but you seemed to enjoy it.”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “I meant from the guy that jumped me.” She touched her cheek and the cut there. “Not from—you know, the other thing.”
“Right, the other thing. Are we talking about that?”
She hesitated, and I could read complex emotions in her eyes. Confusion, desire, some hurt, some self-loathing. I understood all that—hell, I felt it all myself.
“No,” she said, “I don’t think we are.”
“All right.” I looked back out the window. “I said this to Dean, and I’ll say it to you. I don’t think the Healys are going to stop, not yet at least.”
“So I guess I’ll see you kill more people then.”
“Ideally, you won’t have to, but I can’t make promises.”
She shivered a little bit. I could see her expression reflected in the glass: fear and disgust and a strange bit of excitement.
“Is this where you tell me that I can leave whenever I want again?”
“No,” I said, and looked over the city, at the light reflecting off the glass buildings. “This is the part where I tell you that we should get married.”
She coughed and almost choked on her coffee. I turned around and crossed my arms, waiting for her to finish. “What the hell?” she asked.
“We should get married,” I said. “The Don wants it and the Healys don’t. I think you’d like being married to me. I could fuck you like I did last night whenever you wanted, and you could stop feeling so damn conflicted about all this.”
“Ewan,” she said, blinking rapidly.
I held up a hand. “I won’t force you, but I think it’s a good idea. We should get married. You should be my wife.”
She was quiet for a few long seconds. My heart thumped hard and I was surprised at how nervous I felt. I couldn’t believe that my throat felt tight, like I was afraid of what she’d say, when I’d only made up my mind on the walk back here from the park.
It was the obvious solution. We could get married, wait for all this blow over, then she could go on with her life. We’d get a divorce, and I’d still pay for her college, if that’s what she wanted, or we could go our separate ways and never speak of all this again. Marriage was nothing, it was a piece of paper, it was some laws on the book. We could marry and divorce, and survive.
And have some fun in the meantime.
“This is the most fucked-up proposal ever,” she said finally. “I mean, I watched you murder a guy last night in a toilet. And then I fucked you—” Her cheeks turned pink and she seemed annoyed with herself for it. “—a lot and it was really good, but god, now you think getting married is a smart idea? I think you’re insane.”
“I probably am,” I said. “But think about it.”
“I don’t even know you,” she said.
“We can get to know each other eventually. We’ll have as long as we want. And when this is all over, we’ll divorce, and go our separate ways.” I hesitated, and took a step closer. “Or we won’t divorce. We’ll see what happens.”
She closed her eyes and stood still as a statue like she was trying to steady herself, then opened them again. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Think fast. The Don’s patience will run out, and the Healys will get more aggressive. Marriage is the best way to get everyone to leave you alone.”
“Easy for you to say.” She sipped her coffee then put it down on the counter. “I’m a catch. And you’re a killer.” She walked to the hallway and hesitated, then glanced back at me. “That’s not a no. I’ll think about it.” She disappeared back into her room.
I looked back at the city. It wasn’t no. I didn’t understand why that made me feel lightheaded, like my hands were floating through the room, or why I smiled slightly at nothing.
12
Tara
The front door clicked shut and I was left alone in the apartment. Ewan had some meeting to attend—“Just a bunch of mafia douchebags snorting coke and measuring dicks”—and I opted to stay behind. I tried doing yoga, tried watching a movie on TV, tried pacing around the living room, but I couldn’t burn off the anxiety that rattled through my skin.
I kept thinking about that conversation. He wanted to marry me. He thought getting married was the best solution to our problem, and he wanted to do it for real.
And I hadn’t said no.
That part killed me. I didn’t know what I was thinking, even considering this insanity. There were a million other things I could do: call the cops, run to the Healys, steal money from Ewan and try to make it on my own, any number of things. Instead, I couldn’t seem to peel myself away from this place.
The thought of becoming that psycho’s wife should’ve made my skin crawl. Instead, it sent strange waves of excitement down my spine as I pictured waking up every morning with him in my bed, a delicious ache between my legs, his handsome lips up against my throat, the tickle of his beard, the hard scratch of his callused fingers on my soft skin. He was pleasure and pain, and I should’ve been afraid of him.
But I couldn’t quite manage it.
He killed my father. I couldn’t forget that. Even if my dad was a real piece of shit, and I was more and more convinced that he was, I still couldn’t just forgive Ewan for what he did to me. My life was torn away, and now I was lost at sea, alone and with nothing.
With only Ewan to keep me company.
I had to get out of that apartment. I threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, and shoved a hat down over my hair at the last minute. I added big sunglasses to the ensemble and headed downstairs. I looked like a celebrity trying to escape from the paparazzi, and in some ways, I was.
Except I was escaping from a violent and dangerous gang of Irish men that wanted to abduct me from the violent and dangerous gang of Italian men that already owned me.
What a fucking world.
I headed north and made a circuit around Rittenhouse Park until I found a bench near the central portion, in the wide open area where the buskers liked to play guitar, or juggle, or sing, or whatever their act was. I curled my legs up under me and watched pigeons flutter down in hopping circles, and families walk past pushing strollers, with little toddlers at their heels. Old couples sat holding hands, and a young girl with what had to be her boyfriend, both of them covered in tattoos, were stretched out on a blanket in the grass nearby.
I leaned my head back and tried to understand how I was such a crazy person.
Ewan killed my father. Ewan wanted to marry me. Life wasn’t supposed to work this way—you weren’t supposed to murder someone then marry their daughter. And yet from everything I’d seen so far, I believed that Ewan meant well, that he killed my father for a good reason.
If my dad was trafficking women, he deserved to die.
My hands clenched and unclenched into fists and I tried to steady my breathing. I felt a little spark of hate for myself for missing this, for not noticing what my father actually did for a living. I was so stupid, thinking he was an accountant, when in reality he facilitated sex trafficking. He was a slaver, a disgusting animal that imported human beings, imported women to be used as fuck dolls, and I lived in his house, ate his food, talked with him at night, listened to him complain about a long day at work—
God, it was disgusting.
And Ewan killed him. The world was probably a better place without my father in it, and yet he was still my dad.
The confusion and the anger mingled in my chest and I shifted in my seat again. I had the urge to get up and run, to burn away whatever this feeling was that circled around my spine and held me tight. Marriage, death, murder—that man’s face in the toilet—everything I’d seen—Ewan’s lips against my throat—
“Excuse me, miss,” a man said, standing a few feet to my left. I hadn’t noticed him, but his voice pulled me back into the moment. Sunshine graced his face, a strong chin, light green eyes, dark red hair, and decent button-down tucked into chinos. “Do you mind if I sit?”
I gestured at the spot next to me. There were three, each separated by a black metal divider. I was at the far end, and he should’ve sat at the other end, but he took the middle, right next to me.
I squirmed, a little uncomfortable. He was handsome though, and he kicked his legs out with a sigh like he’d been on his feet all day. He wore expensive leather boots that looked well worn.
“Lovely today,” he said pleasantly. “I come here all the time and people watch.”
“It’s nice,” I said absently, and was about to stand up. I wasn’t in the mood to chat with a stranger.
“I watch closely, you know, Tara,” he said, smiling slightly, but not looking at me. His eyes roamed across the open square, and I felt my guts churn wildly.
Dark red hair. Light green eyes. This man had to be a Healy. I went to stand, but his hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Not tight, not painful, but firm enough that I’d have to wrench away if I wanted to escape.
“Stay,” he said. “Hear me out. I don’t mean you any harm.”
“Tell that to the last guy you sent,” I practically spit at him.
He looked at me and tilted his head. “That’d be hard, since Ewan drowned him in a toilet.”
I bared my teeth, but sank back down into my seat. “What the hell do you want from me?” I asked.
He released my arm and sighed, cracking his knuckles. “If it were up to me, nothing,” he said. “I’d leave you the hell alone. The Valentinos want you? They can have you.”
“Then you can get away from me whenever you want,” I said icily.
“I assume the name Colm means something to you?” he asked, ignoring my comment.
“He’s the head of the family,” I said.
“Well, I’m his son. My name’s Ronan.” He flashed me a charming half smile, lip pulling up slightly, eyes crinkled. He was an athletic-looking man, muscular and toned and tall. His voice was deep and melodious, though he sounded tired, and the beginnings of a reddish beard grew along his cheeks and jaw.
I wanted to scream. Son of Colm, sitting next to me, here on this bench. If we weren’t surrounded by people, I’d truly panic, but I knew he couldn’t abduct me in public. There were too many witnesses. I was safe, more or less, at least so long as I stayed in the park.
Eventually though, I’d have to leave, and I didn’t know what I’d do on the quiet, lonely walk back to Ewan’s apartment.
Coming out here was a bad idea. I knew it, but I couldn’t stay in there, not when the place reminded me of the impossible choice I had to make.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, and hated the pleading tone I couldn’t quite suppress.
“Nothing,” he said, then laughed at the annoyed look on my face. “Truly, nothing. My father though, he thinks you’re a prize. He thinks you know something that can help our family.”
“Know something?” I took off my sunglasses and shook my head. “I have no clue what you mean.”
“Your father’s business,” Ronan said gently. “What do you know about it?”
I blinked at him for a full five seconds before I laughed in his face. He grimaced slightly and frowned, leaning away, clearly not happy. I couldn’t help it though. The idea that I knew something about my father’s business was the most absurd and hilarious thing I’d ever heard in my life.
“I only just found out what he did,” I said, my tone bitter and hilarious. “I didn’t even know he was some fucked-up sex trafficker until a few days ago.”
“Really?” he asked, and sounded genuinely surprised. “I find that hard to believe. Jermaine was notorious.”
“Well, not to me,” I said, and my laughter slowly died. “I thought he was an accountant.” His eyes went wide and I glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Accountant,” he echoed. “Come on, you have to be kidding.”
“I’m not,” I said. “That’s the lie he told me, at least, and I believed him. He was my father and I didn’t know any better. I didn’t look into his business. I trusted him.”
“Shit,” he said, and took a deep breath. He leaned his head back into his hands and stared up into the trees. “That’s fucked up.”
“One day, some guys showed up and murdered him, then burned down my house, and I had no clue why,” I said.
“I guess Ewan explained it eventually.”
“Eventually,” I said and turned slightly toward him. “If you want information about my father’s business, you’ll have to go somewhere else. I don’t know a thing.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell my dad, but I don’t think he’ll believe you.”
I felt like an anvil fell onto my shoulders. I slumped slightly, and clenched my jaw as Ronan turned toward me with a strange, evil smirk on his lips, like he enjoyed my suffering.
“I’m not going with you,” I said angrily. “I don’t want anything to do with your family. You people were my father’s best customers, weren’t you?”
Ronan shrugged and waved a hand in the air like swatting a fly, like that wasn’t consequential. “I suppose that’s all right,” he said. “Ewan’s probably treating you well. Killed your father, and now you show him loyalty. Hard for me to believe you, if I’m honest. Hard to think you really don’t know anything about your father’s business, and that you’re not feeding it to the Valentinos.”
The whole, horrible truth became clear in a flash of sudden intuition. Why the Healys wanted me so badly, and why the Don wouldn’t let me go.
The Healys thought I was helping the Valentinos. They thought that was why I didn’t run from Ewan or let them save me. Maybe they even thought I was in league with them, and they were paying me for information, or I was even running the trafficking for them.
And the Don thought he could get that information out of me sooner or later.
Everyone was convinced that I knew something I didn’t, everyone except for Ewan. He knew I didn’t have any knowledge of my father’s business, yet he was the only one that actually cared about me.
“I don’t want anything to do with you or your family,” I said and stood. This time, he didn’t grab for me.
“Whatever they’re paying, we’ll double it,” he said. “And we won’t force you to live with your father’s killer.”
“Go to hell,” I said. “I don’t know anything about my father’s business. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”
Ronan only smiled at me and crossed his ankles. “I hear you,” he said. “But I’ve got to make the offer. Otherwise, my father would be pissed that I didn’t even try. Good luck then, I guess. You must’ve really hated your dad, if you’re fine living with the man that murdered him.”
I balled my hands into fists. I didn’t have to explain myself to this asshole, but the way he looked at me with a cocky smile, and the way he leaned back on that bench like he owned the park pissed me off.
“Stay away from me,” I said, voice hard. “I don’t know anything. Go tell your father I’m not working for the Valentinos, and I’m not going to work for him.”
“He won’t believe you,” Ronan said. “But I’ll try, if you like.”
“Try then.” I turned my back on him. “And leave Ewan alone.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve seen Ewan’s handiwork to know what he’s capable of.”
I began to walk away, shaking and terrified. I was so scared he’d follow me and
take me as soon as I was away from the crowd, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of looking back over my shoulder. I kept my chin held high, and strode toward the sidewalk—
“Tara,” Ronan called.
I looked back, hesitating a few feet away.
“Think about the sort of man your Ewan is,” he said. “Think really hard about what kind of man could drown a person in a toilet. Think about that, Tara, and ask yourself why you’d feel any loyalty for someone like that.”
I left then. Several people stared at me and had clearly overheard what Ronan said. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger, and I walked fast, almost jogging to get away from him.
The trip back to the apartment was terrible. But I reached the front door of Ewan’s building and threw myself back inside, then sprinted to the stairs and took them two at a time.
Ewan sat on the couch watching baseball when I returned. He looked up and smiled slightly, hand raised in greeting.
“Got back early,” he said. “Skipped out on the part of the meeting where they fucked hookers and did blow.”
“That’s a shame,” I said, distracted, breathing hard and sweating and not sure if I should tell him about meeting Ronan out in the park, and terrified that he’d take it the wrong way.
Everyone had an idea about me that wasn’t true. The Healys thought I was in league with my father and the Valentinos, and the Valentinos likely thought I could give them information that I didn’t have. The only person I halfway trusted was Ewan, but even he was a killer.
He was the man that murdered my father.
And I watched him drown another human in a toilet bowl.
Fuck, I was shaking. Ewan’s smile faltered slightly, and I made the snap decision to keep my mouth shut. Ronan got in my head, and I hated him for it.
“You okay?” Ewan asked.
“Fine,” I said, and walked to the hallway. “Didn’t sleep well last night so I’m taking a nap.”
I disappeared into my room and shut the door behind me. I got into bed and curled up under the blankets, and I knew that Ewan could come in whenever he wanted, could kick down that door and force himself into my bed—and the thought sent a strange, horrible shiver along my legs.
