“Please, Han. I need your help.”
The note of pleading in Dani’s voice is not something I’ve ever heard before. It hurts me. She shouldn’t have to ask for anything from this woman.
“Why should—” Han starts, but then stops when she sees me. “You brought her here? How dare you?”
“She is just a child, Han.”
Oh…ouch.
“She needs our protection,” Dani continues. “Like your cousin Lydia, remember?”
I can’t believe I got out of the car for this. I could be eating corn nuts right now, instead of feeling marginalized and pathetic.
“Except, unlike my cousin, she’s a traitor to our kind.”
Our kind? Seriously? “If you’re referring to me taking down Petrov, you’d have done the same thing if he were going to kill you and everyone you ever loved,” I snarl, ignoring Dani’s quelling gesture. “And yeah, I did take him down. The leader of a major Ukrainian crime syndicate. You should show me more respect.”
Han’s face twists in fury, and she lunges at me.
Dani intercepts her, holding her back. “We are in the open. This is not the place.”
“On the contrary, I think this is the perfect place,” Han says. Then she draws a gun from an underarm holster and aims it directly at my heart.
Dani moves so fast she blurs, twisting the gun out of Han’s hand and wrestling her to her knees. I feel light-headed and sick. No matter how many times someone points a gun at me, I’m never going to get used to it.
“Don’t be stupid, Han. We are on a busy street in broad daylight.”
“What the hell do you care?” Han says bitterly.
“I do care.” Dani glares intensely at Han for several moments before gradually letting her up.
Han tosses her perfectly mussed hair over her shoulder in a haughty gesture, as if she’d planned for it to go that way all along. Then she stalks into the restaurant without a backward glance.
I notice that Dani still has Han’s gun, which makes me feel a little better. Not much, but a little. Dani doesn’t even bother to look at me before following Han into the restaurant. I debate between going in and taking off. On the one hand, I feel like someone’s been carving a thousand cuts into my heart. On the other, I’m not “just a child,” and I’m not proving Dani right by acting like one. I need answers, and if this woman has them, well, I can live with a lot of cuts.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust when I enter the darkened restaurant. But I spot Han sitting at a table just behind a giant saltwater fish tank. Dani is pulling out a chair across from her. I feel like a third wheel, but it’s my life that hangs in the balance, so I walk up and take the chair sticking out into the aisle. Which means I’m sitting between Han and Dani like some kind of mediator or marriage counselor or something.
“I wasn’t really going to shoot her,” Han says without preamble. “Even though I have every reason to.”
Dani slouches back in her chair, her posture deceptively relaxed. But her expression is hard.
“Do you know who put the contract out on me?” I ask. I’m done letting Dani take the lead.
“Stay out of this, little girl,” Han snaps at me. “The grown-ups are talking.”
Okay, putting up with Dani calling me a kid is one thing. Letting this chick get away with it is something else entirely. So I get up and deliberately push my chair to the table across the aisle from us. Then I slide into Dani’s lap like I’ve done it a million times.
“Needed a booster seat,” I explain. “You were saying?”
Dani’s hands press into my hips as she pushes me gently but firmly off her lap. “You are not helping,” she says reprovingly.
And she’s right. I shouldn’t be antagonizing our source. I should be manipulating her. Time to get my head back in the game.
“We don’t need her,” I say, crossing my arms and sniffing disdainfully. “She probably doesn’t know anything anyway. Let’s just go.” Then I make a determined move in the direction of the door.
Jilted lovers are ridiculously suggestible. The one thing better than getting back an ex you didn’t want to lose is proving to that ex in whatever way possible that she made a huge mistake in dumping you. Han wants Dani to be indebted to her. Plus, she wants to one-up me. There’s no way she’d let me be the one to end the conversation.
Sure enough, Han’s hand snakes out and grabs my arm before I can go two steps.
“You want what I know? It’s going to cost you,” she says.
“I am asking, so I will pay your fee,” Dani says.
I could kick Dani. She’s going to drive the price through the roof if she doesn’t shut the hell up.
Han narrows her eyes, conflicting thoughts flashing through them. “A life for a life,” she says.
Dani’s expression goes dark. I recognize it. She had the same look just before she shot Petrov.
“Done,” she says.
“No,” I say. Screw negotiations. I won’t be responsible for this. “No more deals, Dani.”
She ignores me, which makes me want to strangle her. It’s like we’re on totally different sides.
Han’s gaze is fixed on Dani. “I don’t know who the source is, but the contract is active. There’s a call up on the message board. Several of my associates have expressed interest in it, though none have officially engaged, as far as I know.”
“What are the specs?” Dani asks.
“Kill order, but there are special instructions. Whoever it is wants to torture the child before killing her, which says personal vendetta to me. I try to stay away from those—too messy. But I was tempted this time.”
“The rate is that good?” Dani asks, her tone suggesting deepening worry.
“Quarter-of-a-mil good.”
Dani falls silent, a muscle popping in her jaw as she thinks. “When was it posted?”
“Yesterday.”
“Dani, don’t even think it,” I say, knowing already she won’t listen.
“What are the contact instructions?”
“A list of references messaged directly to the poster.”
“Can you send the message for me?” Dani asks.
“I said no.” I slam my hand down on the table between them. The other patrons scattered throughout the dining area shoot me disapproving glares. “I’m not letting this happen.”
Han laughs at me. “You’re wasting your breath, grifter. The deal is struck. Besides, that look on her face?” She points at Dani. “Nothing changes her mind once she gets that look. Consider it carved in stone.”
“We’ll see about that,” I say, though the last thing I want is to be fighting Dani along with everyone else.
Wrapping up the conversation took way more words and longing looks than I’d have liked. Han still has it bad for Dani, and Dani certainly still cares about Han. It’s revolting, really.
The car ride back to Mike’s involves considerably less prattling on my part and no corn-nut crunching whatsoever. I’m not feeling terribly confident in the enemy-bone-crushing department right now.
I can tell Dani doesn’t know what to say to me. She doesn’t get why I’m so moody. It’s both hilarious and depressing. Our whole relationship is textbook transference. She’s using me as a Tatyana stand-in. I should have known from the beginning she thought of me that way. And it absolutely should not hurt this much.
“I’m sorry I called you a yappy puppy,” Dani says as we pull to a stop.
I unbuckle my seat belt. “I am a yappy puppy,” I say, getting out and walking away without looking back. Her door creaks open, and her footsteps echo on the pavement behind me. I can feel her standing at the end of the walk, uncertain about whether to guard me or give me space. She must decide on space, because I get to the door and through it without another word to or from her.
This time, I sail right past the living room and collapse on the guest bed fully clothed. I press my stupid face into the stupid pillow and think about how stupid li
fe is. So. Stupid.
“Tough day at the office?” Angela says from the doorway.
I groan into the pillow. I’d never let anyone else see me at this level of wretchedness, but for some reason, Angela’s the exception that proves the rule.
“Seriously, what’s going on?” Angela sits on the corner of bed not taken up by my sprawled limbs. I wish she’d stroke my hair like my mom used to, but then I chew myself out for the thought. What is up with my rampaging emotions lately?
“She thinks of me as a helpless child who needs protecting. Nothing more.”
“She actually said that?” Angela says.
I shrug, because I don’t want to admit that she pretty much did. “This is why I wanted to get rid of these stupid feelings. This right here. How’m I supposed to even look at her tomorrow?”
Angela doesn’t stroke my hair, but she does lay a hand gently on my back. She stays silent. Because what is there to say? I appreciate that she doesn’t try to cajole me or cheer me up or offer me useless platitudes. It is what it is.
Finally, she says, “Can I get you some coffee?”
“With chocolate? And marshmallows?”
“Sure,” she says, and leaves.
• • •
To: Julep Dupree
From: Duke Salinger
Subject: Busy?
Hi, Julep.
Could you come up to my office just before you leave today? I’d like to discuss something with you.
Duke
“We’re all going out to Freddie’s for happy hour. Want to come?” Sally asks as I close the email.
“Can’t today,” I say. “I have to go up and see Duke. Next time?”
“All right,” she says, and grabs her purse. The others, even Aadila, gather up their stuff and head for the entrance.
“You could meet us after,” Aadila says. She’s eyeing me as if she suspects I’m lying.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say. I can’t, of course, because of my curfew, but I’m not telling her that.
She leaves and I turn back to my computer feeling sorry for myself. Not about missing happy hour, but about pretty much everything else. Dani was awkward and distant this morning, which is her go-to whenever she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. It was actually kind of comforting, because as long as she doesn’t know what I’m thinking, then I don’t have to be embarrassed about it.
I’m also chafing under the new rules. I wasn’t meant to spend long hours trapped in a house. TV isn’t often fun for me, because I find it too predictable. Books are better, but my attention keeps wandering. I wish I could see a way through this, but until the person who wants me dead is out of the picture, I’m stuck. What I try to not let myself think about too carefully is that I might be stuck for a long time. Indefinitely, even.
And of course, as soon as I think that, I feel the walls closing in. I start breathing faster.
“Julep, what’s wrong?”
The voice, warm and familiar, pulls me back from the edge. I look up to see Sam walking into the intern pen. He crouches low next to me, taking my hands.
“It’s nothing,” I say, letting out a shaky breath. I shouldn’t let him see me vulnerable, nerves too close to the skin. I used to tell him everything, but now I’m wary of him, too raw from his leaving to trust him again.
“It doesn’t look like nothing—it looks like you’re deciding between throwing up and passing out.” He goes from crouch to seated on the floor, pulling me with him. I leave my hands in his as I follow him down.
“I feel like I’m a fish and someone’s aiming a missile launcher at the barrel I’m swimming in.” I bow my head, letting my hair fall to block my face. “You shouldn’t be here, Sam. You’ll blow your cover.”
He brushes a lock away from my face, his fingers gentle. “Remember the time we snuck into that construction site, and you talked me into traipsing out onto the steel girders twelve stories above the ground?”
I nod slowly, pensive. I’m not in the mood for a history lesson.
“I was freaking terrified,” he continues. “But I was more afraid that you’d go out there without me than that we’d both plummet to our deaths. I didn’t want you leaving me behind—then or ever.”
“I remember your eyes,” I say, smiling. “They were huge.”
“Do you remember taking my hand?” He turns my hands palm up in his.
I nod. I remember losing my equilibrium for a split second and grabbing Sam to steady myself.
“You took my hand and you looked at me, and suddenly I knew how to fly.”
The intensity of his gaze sends a bolt of electricity through my chest. My skin burns hot and cold at the same time.
“Letting go of your hand was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I swear to you I will never do it again. But I had to find my own way, to make you believe in me the way I believe in you.”
I blink, breaking the connection. I let go of his hands and draw my knees under my chin, wrapping my arms around my legs. “I do believe in you, Sam. I always have. But right now I have to concentrate on not dying.”
“That’s why I brought it up,” he says. “To remind you that you can show people how to fly, and that no matter what happens, you’ll never again have to face anything alone.”
I shiver. “What am I gonna do, Sam?” I whisper.
“We’ll get through this, Julep. We always do.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” he says.
I clear my throat to try to dislodge the boulder blocking it. “You shouldn’t be here, though. I don’t want to have to explain to Joseph why I’m fraternizing with an initiate.”
“I was trying to find Joseph, actually.”
“Why?”
“He’s supposed to lead our evening session tonight, but he’s late. I thought it might be significant, so I started looking for him. I found you instead.”
Honestly, I can’t say I’m sad he did. I actually feel like I can breathe somewhat normally again since the Han debacle. Risk to the con aside, I really needed the pep talk, and he said pretty much everything I needed to hear. He’s always known me better than I know myself. Apparently, that hasn’t changed, despite his dressing like a fed and pulling cons like a kingpin. The part of me that wants to trust him, to tell him everything, edges one degree past the part that’s afraid he’ll leave again. Maybe there’s hope for our battered friendship yet.
“Hey,” he says, ducking so our eyes are on a level. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I unwrap myself and push up to standing. “Yeah,” I say, brushing the wrinkles out of my pants. “Oh, crap. What time is it?”
“Four-thirty-five,” he says, looking at his watch. “Why?”
“I need to see Duke before I can leave.”
“Can it wait?”
“I don’t want to miss the opportunity to snoop,” I say, grabbing my phone and keys from my desk.
“Okay, but be careful,” Sam says, stepping aside to let me pass. His expression is suddenly sad, unsure.
I pause long enough to squeeze his hand, smiling up at him. “See you later, partner.”
He squeezes back. Then I move past him into the hall.
When I get to Duke’s door, I knock. No answer, though, which could be a problem. I try the door, and it cracks open. Not locked.
“Hello? Duke?” I ask. Still no answer.
I pull the door open and step inside. And the second my foot lands beyond the threshold, I know something’s wrong. Really wrong. Not a trap. Something else. I stick to the perimeter of the room, keeping my back close to the wall and my hands close to my body so I won’t accidentally brush anything.
When I get to the sitting area, I have to loop away from the wall to go around the couches. Doing so puts me closer to the center of the room and alters the angle of my view. Just past the edge of the couch, I stop abruptly, terror rooting me to the carpet.
A long, thick smear of bl
ood leads from a pool of it next to the couches to behind Duke’s desk.
“No,” I whisper. “Nonononono.” I run to the desk, jumping over the trail of blood to keep from tracking any with my shoes. Images of Tyler’s body flood my brain, but I force them back. I can’t deal with the past. Not right now.
I hesitate for a split second before looking behind the desk. Duke lies curled on his side, unmoving. I fall to my knees next to him, looking at my hands as if doing so would magically wrap them in gloves. But I give myself a mental shake and reach for his suit jacket, which is draped over the back of his chair. I wrap it around my hands and turn him onto his back.
“Duke! Duke!” I wheeze past the fear stopping my breath. “Duke!” I grab his shoulder and shake it hard. But as soon as I see his face, I know he’s dead.
I gasp into Duke’s jacket, shaking and trying desperately to stifle the urge to scream. The first thing I allow myself to do when I calm down enough to think rationally is back slowly away from the widening pool of blood. As I move, my eyes fall onto Duke’s hand, half clenched around a small blue object.
I crawl around the blood and reach for his hand. Uncurling his fingers with my jacket-covered hands, I pull out a three-inch figurine. It’s dressed in a sparkly blue, sleeveless dress, blond hair shorn in a pixie cut. Its expression is mischievous, and it can’t weigh more than a few ounces.
But then the feeling of long, thin ridges pushing out of its back and into my palm shakes me to my core. I turn the figurine over to confirm my suspicions: delicate, translucent wings.
I’m holding the blue fairy.
I burst through the door to the pool hall across the street from NWI. I spot Dani immediately, hands in her pockets, leaning against a pool table next to a propped-up pool cue. Her eyes lock on mine and she ditches the man with the mustache she’d been chatting with.
“What is it?” she asks, her expression fierce.
“Duke—” I swallow, eyeing the curious onlookers. I should be more careful. “I need to talk to you. All of you.”
“Ramirez, too?”
I shake my head. I can’t tell Mike. The authorities can’t know my family is involved with this until I know what this even is. Who killed Duke and why? Was it for the blue fairy? Was it the contract killer? If I tell Mike, there will be no more compromises, no more second chances. I’m on my own. Well, almost.
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