Anna took a deep breath and steadied herself with a nod. “You’re right,” she said. “There are worse ways.”
“Damn right,” Sasha said, grinning again. “Better to go down guns blazing.”
“Easy, cowgirl,” I said, shaking my head. “You two can barely hit a still target from twenty yards. Shooting a living, moving, screaming human being’s a lot harder.”
“I don’t know,” Sasha said, running a hand through her hand. “You’d be surprised how much I hate those fucks. Might be pretty easy to murder the hell out of them.” She gestured toward the target. “I’ve got no problem with that piece of cardboard out there.”
I laughed and led them back to the house. Irene joined us for lunch, then helped Anna get packed. She didn’t have much stuff—she brought nothing with her, though the Don had given her some cash to get a new wardrobe in town. She dressed like a kindergarten teacher outside of the whorehouse and it was almost hard to recognize her.
“Be careful,” Irene said, hugging her hard. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”
“Don’t worry, girl,” Anna said. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Linc will drive you to the safe house,” I said as the group of us walked through the house back to the front driveway. “From there, it’s up to you to set meetings and get in touch with the girls.”
“When will you bring the guns?” Anna asked.
“When you have enough people involved,” I said. “We’re not sending you a stash until then.”
She grunted, but didn’t argue. Sasha eyed me suspiciously and looked like she wanted to say something, but Linc pulled up and honked the horn before she could open her mouth.
“Here I go,” Anna said, hugged Sasha, the nodded to me. She skipped down the steps.
“Hey,” I called out. She turned and I grinned at her. “You’re a good shot now, you know.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I had a shitty teacher but I picked it up anyway.” She waved and jumped in Linc’s back seat. He waved to me and pulled off.
“Walked right into that one,” Sasha said, patting my arm.
Irene grinned at me and I sighed, rubbed my cheek. “Damn, I tried to be nice,” I said.
“These girls don’t do nice,” Irene said and leaned against me. Sasha went back inside, disappearing into the dim house.
“I wonder about that,” I said softly. “Sasha puts on a big front, but she’s scared. Anna’s more transparent with how she feels. And look at her now, she dresses like she teaches third grade.”
“So what?” Irene asked.
“So, they’re supposed to be killers,” I said. “I thought there’d be more fucking fire in them, you know? Those Healy guys abused them and sold their bodies for months or years and this is their chance, but they both seem so scared.”
“Can you blame them?” Irene moved away and leaned against the railing on her elbows, looking out over the lush, green front yard. The trees were thick along the driveway, and some of the smaller dogwoods were in bloom with big, fat white blossoms. “They’ve lived their whole lives being terrified of those guys. And now you’re telling them they can fight back? I’m amazed they’re doing it at all.”
I watched her for a second. “You’d fight back,” I said.
“Maybe,” she said. “I wonder though. When I was on the street, there were times when I had a choice, and I didn’t fight.”
“Things aren’t always that simple though. Sometimes it’s better to run.”
“I thought so, and now I wonder. Anna got away, so did Sasha. We could take more of the girls like we did with them and save their lives.” She looked at me, head tilted slightly. “But you need them to fight, don’t you?”
I stepped away from the stairs and crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “Of course I need them to fight. I want them to kill as many Healys as they can, because I don’t have the manpower to do it all myself.”
She nodded to herself. “Yeah, I know that’s your motivation. I think you want to help them too, but you don’t know how to do anything for free.”
I stepped toward her, voice pitched low. “That’s not true,” I said.
She looked at me. “Yeah? What do you do for free?”
“I saved you.” I reached out but she backed away.
“You didn’t do that for nothing,” she said, staring at me. “If you did, why am I still here?”
“Ronan—” I started, but she interrupted me.
“Bullshit,” she said, hands curling into fists. “If you gave me some money and put me on a plane to California, or to Canada, or anywhere but Philly, he’d never follow me. I’m meaningless to him.”
“The USB drives,” I said.
“He still wouldn’t follow,” she said, staring me down. “You had a price, and that price was me.”
“Damn right it was,” I said and almost didn’t recognize the growl in the back of my throat as I walked to her. She backed up until she ran into the railing and I leaned over her, hands to either side of her hips, staring into her eyes, jaw clenched. I was tired, so tired of this bullshit, of pretending I didn’t feel something, or trying to hide the depth of it. I was so sick of playing the game.