“We need to set some ground rules,” she says, accepting the oatmeal and coffee but ignoring the rest. She sits at a small table she’s got set up between the kitchen and the living room. It’s piled with books and magazines and a couple of little plants she fiddles with nervously.
“I’m not sure you’re the one that gets to set those. I’m the guard, remember? I tell you what’s safe and what isn’t.”
“And I’m the daughter of your boss, remember? I tell you when you’ve crossed a line, and breaking into my apartment is crossing a line.” She frowns at me. “Where do you live, anyway? Were you here all night?”
I shrug and don’t answer, but yes, I was here all night. The rain let up around two in the morning, and I was dry by three, but otherwise it was a quiet and miserable evening spent sitting in front of her place in the shadows of the deli across the street and half a block west. It’s a good spot with a decent overhang, and the night was calm. But there was a moment, back at 30th Street Station before I yanked her into the cab, where I could’ve sworn two guys with thick dark beards and black jackets were staring at us from the shadows near a doorway. Two guys that looked very much like a couple of Turkish soldiers I’ve seen hanging around Delco.
She continues, ignoring my nonanswer. “No more coming in here uninvited. If you have to come in, you’ll knock first.”
“No thanks,” I say, shaking my head. It’s not strictly necessary, but I love the idea of dropping in on her whenever I feel like it. “I need to be able to check on your safety.”
“So you’re terrorizing me, then. This isn’t about my safety at all. It’s about some sick revenge.”
“Revenge?” I laugh once. “No, it’s not about revenge.” Which is only half true. This isn’t about revenge, at least not revenge against her.
“Then don’t be difficult. You said we can make this work, or was that just a bunch of shit?”
I nod my head slightly. “Good point. How about a compromise? I’ll knock before entering, but I’ll enter whenever I damn well please.”
She’s fuming. Her cheeks turn pink and her hands ball into fists. She’s trembling so hard I’m afraid she might spill her coffee on her clothes.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, almost pleading. The hint of desperation in her voice both excites and kills me. I want her to suffer, but I don’t want her to suffer. I’m torn on the subject of Daley Halloran, torn right down the middle. “Why the hell are you here?”
It’s a good question. I study her for a long moment. I can still see the girl she used to be, so young and pretty and naive. Quiet, painfully shy, stupidly beautiful. She grew into herself, but that beauty’s still there, shining through like a beacon. It’s intoxicating and alluring and dangerous as fucking hell.
Why am I doing this?
That’s a question I’ve asked myself for years, ever since I dropped out of high school, ever since I sold out all my morals and joined the Halloran clan, ever since I took up the gun and learned to fight, steal, and kill, ever since I figured out that I’m damn good at killing in particular.
Ever since I buried the boy I used to be and became the rotten man I am today.
Again and again, I’ve asked myself why I’m going through hell. Why I’m doing this to myself.
All for a girl that’s been dead for eight years.
And the answer’s simple.
Because I deserve to suffer.
“I’m here to keep you safe, that’s all.” It’s a lame answer. We both know it isn’t true. But she shakes her head and slumps down into her chair, too tired to keep arguing.
“I have to leave in ten minutes. Can I just have some privacy for a little while, please?”
“I’ll walk you to work.”
“But not into the building. Please, just stay outside, okay?”
“What, do I embarrass you?”
“Yes, Rian. You do.” She stares at me, lips tugged down. “You look like all of them. Like the clan guys.”
“I am a clan guy now.”
“Yeah, I guess you are.” She shakes her head and looks away as if disappointed.
That guts me. I grimace and turn my back on her so she doesn’t see the pain in my eyes. I know what that disappointment means. I gave up everything I ever thought I wanted, all my hopes and dreams, all my goals and ambitions, my fucking sense of self, everything to join the Halloran clan. To become what I am now.
Covered in tattoos and drenched in blood.
Sometimes I feel like my life is twisted, stretched out and tearing, and on one end is the boy I was back when she knew me, back before the accident, and on the other is the man I am now and everything that came after Megan died.