“Did Alec find you the other day?” Hanna asked.
I almost choked on the pasta she was making me eat.
“He asked where you were,” she said. “He seemed happy you were in the gym.”
Happy that I wasn’t in the woods busy falling apart. He had to think I was insane, and then I’d surely made it worse with that scene last night. I couldn’t figure what had upset him so much, but it didn’t really matter if I understood—I felt like crap anyway.
I tried to think of something to talk to Hanna about, some way of making up for my avoidance yesterday. I couldn’t bluntly apologize for it. What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t look you in the eye because I was thinking about trying to seduce the man you see as your son? So not happening. I realized I owed her an apology for something else as well.
“I’m sorry, Hanna,” I said, “about my, um, walk in the woods. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She patted my hand and said nothing more about it. I loved that about her, how she didn’t pry. I knew she had no idea why I was here, why Alec had brought me here, and she never asked me about it.
I barely tasted the pasta. I only ate for her, because I didn’t know how to tell her no.
The anger in Alec’s voice kept replaying in my mind.
Hanna took my bowl from the table to the sink, and I followed closely. I wasn’t about to let her do the dishes herself. She’d left the lunch plates go so she could sit with me while I ate, while she made me eat.
She stood right in front of the sink, leaving no room for anyone else to share the work. I grabbed a towel and snatched dishes from her hand. Her lips twitched.
“So,” she said, “he found you the other day?”
“Um, yeah.”
“He said something when you first came about you might want to use the gym.” She looked at me. “Surely you’re not interested in lifting weights.”
“Are you calling me puny?”
“Slender,” she said. “Graceful. Like a dancer.”
I smiled a little.
She looked at the glass she was washing. “I thought so.”
“Are you psychic like him?”
She laughed. “He seems to be sometimes. You’ve certainly enjoyed all the books he picked for you.”
I kept drying. “Yes.”
“I wish he would talk more, like when he was little. He never jabbered on, but he always had something interesting to say.” She handed me the glass. “I was shocked that night he talked so long with you in the library.” She was looking at me more closely than I liked, as if she was trying to read me.
I turned away to set the glass on the counter.
Making sure Hanna didn’t know what I felt was imperative. If she knew, she might try to push him again.
Thankfully, she moved on. “So, what kind of dance?”
I didn’t particularly like talking about myself, but I went with the change of subject. “Ballet.”
“Oh, I love that. He took me to see The Nutcracker a few Christmases ago as a gift.”
I smiled. “That and Swan Lake are my favorites.”
“Have you ever performed?”
I managed not to laugh. “No.” Dancing for a crowd of moms and dads in a school gymnasium could hardly be called performing, though I’d been the lead a few times.
With the excuse of the gym, I escaped for a little while. Her “stories” were to start soon, anyway.
After a little warm-up, I set to trying to remember the one section of Swan Lake. I could almost hear the music, but I couldn’t concentrate on what my feet were doing. My head refused to keep track of them. I felt schizophrenic. A part of me was sick with disappointment that I’d decided to give up my only shot to have him, just that once.
And yet another part of me knew I was better off. I couldn’t afford to allow myself to feel any more connected to him.
Mostly, I worried about Alec. I worried about why he was angry last night, about what I’d done to exacerbate his already tense mood after their meeting. They’d all been tense the last few days, since…
I stopped and latched on to the bar across the mirrors.
It was useful for him to be able to protect himself. Last night, Anthony and Vincent were trying to talk him out of something. Vincent seemed angry, at me in particular. The tension had been escalating—since Alec’s promise, since his assurance he would handle things as quickly as possible. He thought I was upset to be stuck here. He was trying to fix it, to fix it quickly. They’d been making the final plans last night. He was in danger today—because of me. He was doing something dangerous. He was doing it alone. They wouldn’t have argued with him so much if they were going to be with him, if they were going to be able to take the brunt of it. I understood why Vincent was angry with me.
I tried to pull myself together, and moved toward the door.
Hanna couldn’t see me like this. She would worry. She might even figure out why I was falling apart. I needed to find one of the others.
I guessed at which direction to go, which halls would take me to the garage instead of back through the main part of the house. I took deep breaths as I walked. I had to appear rational and somewhat in control if I wanted anyone to listen to me.
What if none of them were here?
I found Ben in the garage, surrounded by parts of what looked like another piece of lawn equipment. Still barefoot, I walked through the obstacle course of metal parts.
Ben looked up from the screw he was turning. “Adriane?”
“Anthony or Vincent, or any of the others,” I said. “Are any of them here?”
He stood from the bucket he was using as a seat. “No, um, they left. They ain’t been hanging around much.”
What was I supposed to do now?
He took a step closer. “You all right?”
Even if I could get to the house phone without Hanna noticing or overhearing, I didn’t know Alec’s number.
Wait…
“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked.
He took it from his pocket but hesitated to give it to me.
“It’s not something he wouldn’t like,” I said.
His face screwed up in indecision.
“He told you to give me what I needed, right?”
“He said to give you anything you wanted.” He handed me the phone.
I walked out the open garage door then away from the house into the sparse trees. Luckily, Ben’s phone was simple like mine; I found his contacts easily. Alec was one of few.
My finger hovered over the call button. He might be annoyed.
It was worth it, and I had the right to know what was going on. I pressed the button and held the phone to my ear. It rang several times.
His voice was hushed. “Ben?”
“It’s Adriane.”
He was silent.
“Please, Alec. Please don’t do it.”
I started to wonder if we’d lost the connection.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I made a promise.” The line went dead.
***Alec***
Alec hung up the phone and replaced it in his breast pocket.
He glanced one more time down the road lined with Queen Anne houses and then turned to walk back down the lane. He saw why she liked it here. It was peaceful; he could almost believe life wasn’t so fucking hard.
He was impressed with her resourcefulness. He didn’t know how she’d figured as much as she had, though he was sure she still didn’t know any details. He thought he was being careful—he barely even fucking talked to her.
His car was parked on the next block, backed into the driveway of an empty house. The car he’d driven was plain enough not to draw attention.
And yet there was a man in the passenger seat.
Alec opened the driver’s side door and sat. He didn’t acknowledge Vincent; he simply waited for him to leave.
“Don’t do it.” Vincent’s tone was an order.
Alec’s cold gaze stayed on the windshield. “Get the fuck out.”
Silence.
Vincent changed his tone. “You’re my best friend. I just don’t want—”
“I understand.” He looked at Vincent. “You, of all people, know why I have to do this.”
“Then let me come with you.”
Alec turned back to the windshield. “No.” Vincent was one of very few friends he’d ever had. He wasn’t going to put him in this kind of danger.
Vincent was quiet, and Alec continued to look at the windshield.
“Son of a bitch,” Vincent muttered. Then he stood from the car. Before walking away, he bent down to look at Alec. “Be careful, man.”
Alec started the car and put it in gear. Vincent barely got the door closed as the car pulled away.
Alec thought it best to wait for after dark, which meant he still had a few hours. To kill time, he drove around the city, aimlessly drove. His phone rang. He turned it off and stuffed it into the glove box.
Then it was time for him to scout the area, to try to determine how many men Bishop had with him. They figured he probably had about ten in the city, at least at the moment. Alec was confident he could take that many—if he had to. He knew he would likely get fucked up in the process, and he still might not get to Bishop. They were at a dead end, though. This was the only thing he could do to make any amount of reasonable progress. Otherwise, it could take months to get enough on Dean.
The neighborhood in which Bishop was staying was a quiet, cookie-cutter area. All the houses were beige, and the trees were small, not mature, giving very little cover.
Alec parked a block away. He left his suit jacket on the seat and walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, as if he was out for an evening stroll. This was why he’d worn his usual suit; he didn’t look out of place.
He walked until he came to a grouping of houses whose windows were all dark. He slipped between two of the houses then silently made his way through several back yards filled with plastic play sets, swimming pools, and barbeque pits. Sometimes he wondered how it would feel to live like these people. As a child, he’d been fascinated by those stupid sitcoms—parents who loved their children and all those ridiculous worries they had. They made such a big fucking deal about the dumbest shit. Who gave a fuck if little Stacy didn’t do her homework and got sent to the principal’s office? Could life really be that simple?
The house at which Bishop was staying was a little different. There were no play sets or patio furniture. It looked uninhabited, except for the one light in a second-floor window. That was where he had to go.
He waited for a few minutes, hidden behind a small pine tree in the neighboring yard. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up.
A man stepped out the back door onto the patio. He lit a cigarette and puffed at it as though it were a meal. He looked tired—and he was only armed with a 9 mil, tucked in the back of his belt. The man was focused on his cigarette. Alec could take him off guard, and hopefully, use him to get into the house. It had to be done quietly. The people around here were surely the type to call the police for anything.
Alec left his gun hidden under his shirt and slipped quietly out from behind the pine and to the side of Bishop’s house. He watched the man, only a few feet away, from just around the corner of the house.
The man turned away, still puffing at his cigarette.
Alec moved up behind him; his steps made no sound. As he approached, he glanced at the glass doors into the house to make sure no one was there. From behind, he wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and covered his mouth with his other hand. He squeezed and his tightened bicep pressed at the man’s neck, at the arteries supplying blood to his brain. He would pass out in only a few seconds if Alec squeezed any tighter.
The man tried to struggle, but Alec pulled him back, off balance. The cigarette dangled from the man’s lips.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Alec said in the man’s ear. “I just need to talk to your boss.”
The man croaked something incoherent, something outraged.
“Fine,” Alec growled. “We’ll go meet him together.” He guided the man toward the house. The man was able to give very little resistance in his current position.
They came to the glass door. “Open it,” Alec said.
The man didn’t move.
“We can do this outside if you prefer, but that may bring some unwanted attention from the neighbors. I’m sure Bishop will appreciate the police at his doorstep.” No one in the city knew for sure Bishop existed. He was only a rumor. Anonymity was his best mode of defense.
The man opened the door and gave no more resistance. They walked just far enough into the house so they wouldn’t be visible in the darkness from outside.
Then other men appeared, from several directions.
“Alec Kaden,” someone said, more a shocked identification than a greeting.
“I only want to speak with Bishop,” Alec said. “I don’t wish to harm anyone. I’ll leave peacefully.”
One of the shadowed figures stepped forward. “Over my dead body.”
“I don’t intend to kill anyone.”
The man moved closer. “You’ll have to.”
Alec had figured it would come to this.
The breathing of the man Alec was holding was growing shallow. Alec shoved him at the apparent leader and burst into action. He had to move quickly, before guns were drawn. They would do it as a last resort, in order not to draw attention from the neighbors, but he knew they would do whatever it took to defend Bishop. Men converged. Alec dodged and shifted, kept them in front of him. He moved to the left and took those men down first. Then he slipped back into the next room, forcing the men to come at him through the doorway, only two at a time. The first two he simply punched in the face. They fell easily.
Then there was a chair hurling at him. The leg snapped off against Alec’s shoulder, exactly on the brachial plexus tie-in. He was lucky pressure points had little effect on him. Pain shot through his shoulder, but his arm did not go numb.
The next man Alec round-kicked just above the knee. Pressure points worked on this man. His leg obviously numb, he fell, blocking the path for the next. Someone dragged him back, and the others behind them rushed forward.
A gun was drawn.
Alec broke the arm holding it, took the gun, and released the clip. It clattered on the floor. He used the butt of the gun to smash into the next man’s temple. The man fell, and Alec tossed the gun.
Only a couple men were left standing. Alec kicked one in the groin, and then grabbed his head to smash it into his knee.
The last man was the leader. He threw a punch. Alec slipped under his hand then grabbed it. He jerked his hand into a lock. The man’s face smashed into the floor.
The man struggled, and Alec held him in place with the wrist lock. “I only want to talk to Bishop,” Alec said.
The man answered by trying to pull free. Alec snapped his wrist and rolled him to his back. “Fuck,” the man forced out through tightened lips.
Alec knelt, pinning the man’s shoulder to the floor with his knee. “I’m sorry,” he said then punched him in the face.
All of Bishop’s men were now unconscious. Alec moved quickly for the stairs before any of them could wake. Carefully, in case any men remained upstairs, nearer Bishop, Alec crept through the second-floor hall. The house was silent. No one else appeared.
He found the room with the light. He opened the door and walked in to greet the apparition that was Joe Bishop.
Bishop’s face was unknown no longer.