"You're gonna be a good mom, Ricky," Kim said, looking at her kid sister with new appreciation.
Ricky kept smiling, but a seed of worry still budded in her heart.
I hope I'm a good mom, she thought, and then looked back up at the window. And I hope you get to meet your dad …
There was a knock on the door. Kim sat straight up; the men had keys. Ricky glanced at her sister, then went to the door, peering through the peephole. She sighed in relief, opened the door to let Mina in.
"How did it go?" Ricky asked as Mina entered. "Did they find James Whitley?"
"They did," Mina answered, seating herself at a chair beside the wooden table.
"Where are they?" Ricky asked, stepping out into the too-bright day and looking both ways up the block of rooms. "Did they go to the hospital?"
"No," Mina said, straightening herself up. "You better sit down, Ricky."
Ricky turned to look at Kim; her sister was pale as the sheets she sat on. She looked at Mina, the girl's face stoic but dour.
"Those lying motherfuckers … "
41
Tricia had been staring at her phone, waiting for updates from the girls, but it was Damon's phone that rang first. It was on vibrate, and for a moment Tricia was confused; she could hear the buzzing, but she knew it wasn't coming from the phone in her hand.
"Hello?" Damon's voice drew Tricia's attention up to him. She'd been sitting on his bed, beside his feet, watching him sleep in between bouts of prolonged phone-staring. But his voice didn't sound like a man roused from sleep.
They shouldn't be calling him, Tricia thought, annoyed. He needs rest, recovery, not to worry about what his brothers are getting themselves into …
"Thanks," Damon said, looking at Tricia as he spoke into his phone. A beat passed, in which Damon's eyes flicked away and then down. "Yes, I know. Don't."
When he hung up, he still wasn't looking at Tricia, and he didn't offer her any explanation of the call.
"Um," she said, impatient. ‘Who was that?"
Damon answered her question with one of his own.
"Weren't you afraid?" Damon asked. "When you learned they were there? The … "
"The Steel Dragons?" Tricia said, not needing him to finish. She rose and came to stand by his side. "No. I wasn't. Maybe, for a moment, I was. But they couldn't hurt me. I was safe, with Kennick and Cristov and the girls. You weren't safe. I was afraid. For you."
Damon rose up in the bed, biting back a wince of pain. He drew his hands around her waist and pulled her in close, close enough for her hips to hit the side of the hospital bed, eyes searching hers for the truth. He found it, and nodded.
"A good woman," he said, recalling the words he'd said to her just a few days before – which now felt like years. "Brave in all the right places and all the right times."
Tricia blushed. She hadn't ever sought his approval, never really thought that he might change his mind about her. But she had to admit, it felt good, knowing that what he'd seen in her, before ever knowing her, had proved true.
"I should have listened to you," he said, his eyes turning sad. "You were right. Those first few blows I landed – I'd waited for them for so long. But even before he cut me, I realized they weren't really going to change it. I don't think anything ever will change it. If I could have killed him, I would have. But all that would have done … I'd just have one more man's blood on my hands. That's it."
"Damon," Tricia said, reaching out to hold one bearded cheek in her hand.
"But I still need something," he said, shaking his head gently. "I know where he is, Tricia. I forced Mina to find out. She just called. And I'm going to him."
She stiffened in his grasp. Her brown eyes widened, then narrowed in confusion – and hurt. All his words were contradicting themselves. What could he possibly hope to gain from seeing Curly again? He knew that Curly's blood wouldn't be a salve for any pain.
"You're not going in this condition," she said, voice firm. "You haven't been released yet. You're basically a rag doll, Damon. No, I won't let you. It's crazy. You're crazy."
"That's what you said when I invited you on this trip," he said, offering her a sad smile. "And I got you to come along anyway, didn't I? I might be crazy, but … I'm going. And you can't stop me. And you know that."
"Why?" she asked, surprised at the choked sound of her own voice. Her cheeks were wet. She was crying, without even realizing that she was. "Why, Damon?"
"I'll tell you," he said. "Because I want you to come with me. I need you to come with me. I want you there, when I let it go. When I let it end."
She swallowed hard, dropped her hand from his cheek. But she didn't turn away. She listened. And when she was done listening, when Damon was done talking, she nodded. She'd go. She'd be with him, because he needed her … and she needed him.
"Alright," she said, voice thick and wet.
"Our love a difficult instrument we are learning to play. Practice, practice," he said, speaking softly and in a rhythm that Tricia had grown accustomed to.
"More C.D. Wright?" she asked, smiling through her persistent tears. He nodded. She wiped at a cheek. "Do me a favor, Damon."
"Anything," he said.
"No more poetry until this is done."
42
The house they pulled up to looked like it had seen better days. The whole neighborhood, in fact, looked like it had seen better days. Kennick hadn't expected much more from the thugs after the trials had decimated their numbers and their wealth. The mighty had definitely fallen. They just weren't willing to admit it yet.
Cristov had just hung up the phone. James was staring at him, wide-eyed and shaking.
"You boys are crazy," James said. "You're crazy as fuck. What do you think is gonna happen when … "
"That's none of your business," Kennick snapped from the front seat. "Don't you worry your fucked up little head about what happens to us. You've got enough to worry about with yourself."
James shut his mouth, but still looked pale as a ghost, and trembled all over.
"You think they saw us pull up?" Cristov muttered, looking out the window. His question answered itself when the front door of the house swung open. One of the men from the fight stood in the doorway, shading his eyes with his hand.
"Get out," Kennick said, his voice a low growl. Cristov lifted his gun and pointed to the door on James' side. It took the man a moment to figure out what was expected of him, but eventually got the point. "And keep your hands up."
James got out of the car, holding his hands above his head. Slowly, Kennick did the same, his gun still in his jeans. He walked to the side of the car that faced the house, motioning for James to follow. The figure in the doorway turned, shouted something into the house. There was a long moment of silence. Then the man in the doorway disappeared. Cristov lay down in the backseat, still holding his gun in both hands.
"That's Roper," James whispered as another figure appeared in the doorway. Kennick nodded, eyes flashing.
"What the fuck is this?" the man in the doorway yelled. Kennick kept his voice steady.
"Surrender," he yelled back. "My people want this to be done. You killed my brother. I don't want anyone else dying. Just wanna talk."
The man in the doorway stood still. Then he turned and beckoned to someone behind him. Slowly, he emerged from the darkened door, walking down the cracked path towards Kennick and James.
Don't freak out, James, Kennick thought, and you might just make it out of here alive.
"You wanted his body," Kennick said as Roper approached. "You've got it. Fuckin' hate you with every inch of my body for taking it from us, but I got to do right by mine. And I got something else for you. Two pounds of the purest gypsy powder you've ever seen. We just want this done."
"Like I fucking believe you?" Roper growled, his gun in his hand, a scowl on his lips.
"See for yourself," Kennick said, nodding to the window behind James. Roper growled low in his throat, unwilling to break his stare. The two armed men behind him apparently didn't do much to make him feel safe around Kennick.
"The fuck is this, James?" Roper said, now turning to the junkie. "You didn't say shit about this when you … "
"I told him what to say," Kennick interrupted. "I knew you wouldn't agree to meet me otherwise."
"I asked him," Roper snapped. "This fuckin' true, James?"
The man's hands were shaking in the air, his lips cracked and trembling. Don't be an idiot, James, Kennick thought. Their whole plan depended on this miserable fuck not being a miserable fuck for once in his life.