The Killer's New Wife

But I didn’t really think so. That had been a real offer, one made in good faith. He wanted a war to enrich and amuse his family, and he wanted me to stay out of it.

Which worked out fine, since I wanted nothing to do with what was coming.

I slowly walked back to the wedding. Tara grinned at me, kissed me, and tugged me off to dance.

I thought about Colm’s offer for the rest of the night. I’d have to talk to Dean about it, and see what Tara thought of the whole thing, but I knew what I wanted.

It would be painful. It’d mean giving up a part of my life.

But when I pulled Tara close during the last slow song of the night, the moon hanging high in the cloudless sky, I knew it wasn’t much of a sacrifice, considering what I’d gain.

And the choice seemed obvious then.

22

Tara

Two Years Later

I watched a pair of squirrels run down the side of a tree, either fighting or playing or fucking, I couldn’t really tell. They skittered through the leaves and disappeared down the hill along the rocky trail that I hiked most mornings. I breathed the cool, thin Colorado air, and kicked my feet up on a stool.

My belly bulged like a balloon. I kept one hand on it, waiting for the baby to kick. He’d been active all morning, and I loved feeling him. Every new motion gave me a burst of excitement, knowing that was my child there, growing inside of me.

Ewan’s car pulled up the long gravel driveway. I sipped coffee as he got out and carried the groceries over toward me. He stretched and put the bags down at the top of the steps, then stood admiring me with a smile.

He still looked at me the same way I looked at the mountains—and at him—like I couldn’t get enough of them. His eyes shone, like I was still gorgeous, despite the huge pregnancy belly. He looked healthy, muscular from the long workouts and hikes he did. Colorado agreed with him, and he said he slept better in our little cabin than he did anywhere else.

“How are you feeling today, my wife?” he asked, leaning up against the railing.

“Perfect now that you’re home.” I leaned forward, eyeing the bags. “Did you get me some Nutella?”

“Of course I did.” He tossed me a tub. “You know that’s all sugar, right?”

“That’s why it’s good,” I said, tearing it open. I ate the sweet hazelnut spread with my fingers. “Oh, god, that’s the stuff.”

He walked over and sat down next to me. “I always thought I was the only person that could make you say that.”

“Nutella isn’t a person,” I pointed out. “You remain the only man to do it for me.”

“Naturally.” He leaned over and kissed me, which I returned with a passion that never died down.

When we broke apart, he finished putting the groceries away, then let the dogs out. Baxter, a stocky black Lab, sprinted into the leaves followed by Maybe, his younger yellow Lab sister. They barreled around and played, barking and chasing the squirrels off while Ewan sat in the chair next to mine.

We did this most mornings. The dogs ran around, and we lounged in the rocking chairs to watch them. It wouldn’t last much longer—once the baby was here, things would change.

But it’d been a good run. Two years of quiet. Two years of bliss.

“Dean called me last night,” he said softly, offhand, like it was no big deal.

I went very still. Since we left Philadelphia two years ago, we did have much contact with the family. That was the agreement: if we left, we left for good and entirely. It was hard for Ewan, but he thought it was the right thing, even if I wasn’t sure.

Looking back, he was right. We heard snippets of news about what was going on in the city, and it wasn’t good. Things were calm for a few months, but the war with the Healy family exploded, and it was nasty. Bodies in the street, blood and money flowing in the gutters.

We barely escaped all that.

“I’m surprised,” I said. “I thought we weren’t allowed to talk to them anymore.”

“Things changed,” he said, shaking his head. “The Don’s been struggling lately. Dean’s stepping into leadership.”

“Wait, really?” I stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Alzheimer’s they think, or maybe just old age, he didn’t really say. But he’s struggling physically and mentally, and so the Capos got together and voted Dean as the new Don.”

“Wow,” I said, completely blown away. “That’s insane.”

“He invited me back.” He looked down at his fingernails and rubbed them against his plaid shirt.

My heart started to race. The thought of going back to the city made me want to be sick. All the horror in my life, all the bad things, they were all back in Philadelphia. Things were settled out here. We had a house, a really nice house that Ewan bought with cash up in the mountains at the edge of a small town. He worked odd jobs, mostly house construction, while I took a job at a little Italian restaurant in town. We didn’t need the money, but it was good to keep busy.