It is Martin that finally answers.
“It’s the fourteenth, I believe. Of November.”
“Ah-ha,” is all Eve utters, before heading with purpose to the built-in closet next to her bunk and throwing it open.
She grabs a duffel bag, and a change of warm dark clothing, stuffing whatever she can manage before zipping it closed. Not caring that she still has an audience, she throws off her soiled pajamas, hurriedly replacing them with daytime clothing.
In shock, all of the other occupants just watch her, many wondering if she has finally cracked.
Luca is the first to move in her direction.
“Why does the day matter, Eve?” His voice is soothing, like someone talking to a feral cat they want to tame.
“Because today is Maggie’s birthday. She’s seventeen.”
Zipping her windbreaker and grabbing her duffel bag, she plans on walking straight past him—but his warm hand stops her, gently clasping her bicep.
“Where are you going?” Luca asks.
“To give Maggie a present. It is her birthday, after all.”
“And what might that be?” he inquires again, still holding her tightly.
“Isn’t it obvious? I am going to hunt Adel and Orion down. And then, I am going to kill them.”
Yanking her bicep free, she pushes past Luca, and is almost to the doorway when she hears him yell, “Wait!”
“Dammit Eve, I’m coming with you.” Luca jogs from the room, heading to gather his things. Beth is way ahead of him, already packed, and changing as well. She smiles at Eve and nods, letting her know her answer.
“I need at least fifteen, and then I should be ready to go as well.” Martin furiously types on a tablet he has seemingly magicked from thin air.
Riley begins to shake in rage, his eyes maniacal as he yells, “No, you are not!”
But everyone ignores him, having already decided that Riley is no longer in charge.
Eve is.
Eve.
Beth.
Martin.
Tate.
Luca.
Five is better than one when preparing to murder two.
She had been right to trust the Quinns. They just needed to hurry. Maggie’s clock is ticking.
“Martin, do you have a phone?” she asks.
“I do,” he says. Reaching into his pocket, he hands it over willingly.
Dialing a few numbers, she holds the phone to her ear, and waits.
“Jill. It’s me, Eve. I need your help.”
Saintsville Page 19
