The Killer's New Wife

Her lip curled up but she shook her head and spit on the ground. “Let me go,” she said. “I’m dead weight. You need to run, right?”

“You need to shut your mouth,” I said and she stared at me defiantly, but didn’t speak again.

“Make up your mind,” Dean said, the sirens coming closer. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Come on,” I said, dragging the girl to the back fence. “We can talk about this in the car.”

Dean laughed and unlatched the gate. We slipped out into an alley, pinned by the fence line on the left and the stone walls of the houses on the next block to our right. The ground was littered with bottles, cans, syringes, rotting plant matter, and tree roots. The girl stumbled more than once, but I kept her on her feet as we hurried to the far end. Dean reached it first, made sure it was all clear, then motioned me forward.

The girl tried to run as soon as we hit the sidewalk. I gripped her harder and she screamed. I covered her mouth with my hand and she bit me hard enough to draw blood, but I didn’t pull away. She cursed, her voice muffled, and I bled freely against her lips.

I knew pain. I could handle pain.

I kept my other arm around her shoulders and dragged her along. From a casual observer, she’d probably look drunk, or at least I hoped so. Dean was parked up ahead at the end of the block. His black hardtop Jeep was dinged and marred from countless accidents, but he insisted the thing drove like a tank.

I got in the back with the girl and he got behind the wheel. It smelled like stale beer and diesel fuel. He started the engine and we pulled out into traffic.

I dabbed at my bleeding palm with my shirt. “I should strip you down for that,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

She curled up in the corner, getting as far away from me as she could. “You touch me and I’ll rip your dick off.”

I ignored her. “Why the fuck do you want me to take her home?” I asked Dean, leaning forward between the seats.

He drove fast but not out of control. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention. “Have I ever asked you about your mother?” he said softly.

I pulled back and stared at his eyes in the rearview mirror. He watched my reaction carefully, and I kept my face as neutral as I could. The motherfucker had never mentioned her before, and as far as I knew, he had no clue who she was. But clearly, if he was bringing her up now, then the Valentino family had learned something about my past, something I hoped would stay buried for a very long time.

“I don’t know what she has to do with this,” I said and was unable to keep the anger from my tone.

“She’s got everything to do with it,” he said. “Now that things with the Healy family’s heating up, my father’s a little worried about your loyalty.” He paused and glanced back at me when he stopped at a stop sign. “I’m not so worried, but you know how my old man is.”

He drove forward and I leaned back, arms crossed. “So, what, this girl is some kind of test?” I glanced at her and she stared out the window like she wasn’t listening, but she hung on every word.

“That’s right, she’s a test,” Dean said. “She’s Tara Donnelly, distant cousin to the Healys, and you know how those fuckers are about family. The Don wants you to keep her and make sure she’s safe until we can figure out what the fuck to do with her.”

Tara looked at me and shook her head quickly. “I’m nobody,” she said. “I barely know the Healys, they don’t—”

“Shut up,” I said softly. “You’ll only make it worse.”

She bit down on her lip but stopped talking.

I felt sorry for her. She was angry and she was scared and she was nobody. Her father was hardly a blip on my radar. He was an easy kill and I’d only done it because the Don ordered him dead. Otherwise I never would’ve bothered with a lowlife piece of trash like Jermain Donnelly.

Ewan took the long way through South Philly in case we were being followed, crossed over into West Philly, then looped back around through the north. He came down Broad Street, driving slowly, and angled back through Old City toward Passyunk Avenue. I had an apartment above a Mexican food place and it smelled like fried food and cheap beer all night long. Most people would hate it, but I loved the noise—it drowned out all the swirling thoughts that ran through my mind when I tried to get to sleep at night.