Page 69 of A Love Most Fatal
He jerks a nod and then paces away from me, probably looking for another table to flip over.
“Quite the temper on that one,” Leo murmurs next to me.
I reset my shoulders and look decidedly away from Cillian’s retreating back. “What’d your guy say?” I ask.
“He’ll ask around, but they aren’t interested in disrupting the peace we have going. Garza knows how valuable our ties with the mayor and the port inspector are. They didn’t do this.”
“I know they didn’t.” I watch my sisters counting and conferring quietly together, dread coursing through my body at the undeniable truth that my control is slipping through my fingers, and when it’s gone, I won’t be able to protect anybody.
“Let’s get this shit cleaned up,” Leo says.
25
NATE
I am dozingoff somewhere in the fourth season ofTheVampire Diarieswhen Ranger jumps down from the bed and starts running in tiny circles at the bedroom door, a sure sign he has to pee. When we get downstairs, though, I see that he doesn’t have to pee at this 3 AM juncture, he just heard Vanessa come home and wanted to hang out with her.
He wiggles his whole body at her feet until she bends down to scratch his neck. She still doesn’t look pleased about having a dog in the house, but her disdain has been softened in the last couple of weeks. I thought she would shoot him at first, so her petting his head is real progress.
“Working late,” I say. She’s wearing sleek pants and a turtleneck, very Steve Jobs if Steve Jobs was a hot Italian woman.
“Yeah. Unfortunately.”
“Can I have some?” I nod at the electric tea kettle bubbling in front of her.
“Want chamomile?”
“Sounds great.”
She reaches up into the cabinet for the box of tea, and her shirt rides up in the process. I remember the feel of her bareback against my palms, the silky skin, warm in the spring night air.
“Here.” She slides me the green mug I’ve taken a liking to. It’s the only one of its kind in the mug cabinet and fits well in my palm. Has she noticed it’s the one I like? Or was it by chance she gave it to me now?
I clear my throat.
“Thanks,” I say, but my voice is like a truck driving over gravel.
I focus my energy on spooning honey into the mug and pouring the scalding water over it.
“Milk?” I nod and try not to touch her skin as she puts the carton in front of me.
She looks tired, like she always does by the end of the day, her shoulders low and under eyes dark. I know I am part of a privileged few being able to see her like this, in her home, no makeup, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.
She is not a mafia boss like this, she is just Vanessa, tired from working too hard, stress evident on her skin and in the strain behind her eyes.
“Something happened,” I say, and she doesn’t deny it. Why else would she be coming home past 3 AM looking like sipping tea is a grueling task?
“Yeah,” she whispers and sets her mug down before letting her face fall in her hands. I watch her while she breathes, and she rubs her hands down her face and neck until they rest on her shoulders, crossed over her chest. Ranger huddles closer to her leg.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m good at my job.”
“Of course,” I say. I don’t know if she means the construction or the crime, but I figure this is true of both. “That’s obvious.”
“I am good, the best even. I make it a point to be this way, to never let anything slip past my notice, but—” A muscle in her jaw ticks. “I’m missing something.”
She takes another sip from her mug. It must burn her tongue because she winces. I want to ask what happened, but she’s not one to share all the gory details. At least not with me, anyway.
I’ve given her no reason to believe I’d be a generous ear to such things.