Page 113 of Retribution
“I don’t want nothing to do with that family. It’s why me and Antonio split.”
“Can I please come in? I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I need to speak to you about Antonio.”
Reluctantly, Josafina lets me in. There’s a small foyer which opens into a modest living room.
“What’s he done? He owes someone money? ’Cause I got two kids to feed, a mortgage to pay, car maintenance. I can’t afford to give up any of my money.”
“You might want to sit down.”
She sinks into the nearest armchair. “This ain’t about money.”
“It’s not.”
Josafina’s face falls, and tears fill her eyes. “He’s dead, ain’t he? Oh, God. He’s dead.”
“There was an incident at the house. He was caught in the crossfire.”
“Did Finn kill him?”
My immediate instinct is to deny it, but instead, I wander to the couch and sink into it. “He didn’t. Why would you think he was involved?”
“He’s a hothead with no respect for life. The stories… When we got together, I loved that he worked for them. Wherever we went, people were afraid of that family. It was an automatic respect, you know? Mr. Donaghey, his sons, mostly Finn, though. They had this policy. Kill ’em all.”
“That scared you?”
“Not at first. I was young and dumb. Married Antonio ’cause I loved him. Then we had our first kid and a second kid. He got deeper in the organization. He got shot. Not real serious. But it was enough to make me ask him to leave. He said people didn’t leave the organization. They were eliminated.”
“Death or jail.”
“Yeah, exactly. Antonio said Mr. Donaghey and Finn were hardliners. They’d kill him if he tried to leave. He said he thought Lorcan might let him go. Maybe. Then I heard stories about him. His hands were far from clean. Finn has a way of talking people into doing things they wouldn’t normally do. Gets under their skin. When Antonio came home one night, and I woke up to him weeping, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I was done.”
It takes a moment for me to follow her story. “You left him because he was crying?”
“I left him ’cause he said Finn made him kill some kid. A kid. Their fucking family policy says no loose ends.” Tears stream down her face. “I didn’t want my kids to end up being loose ends. Can you imagine? I love my kids. I love my kids so much. The idea I signed them up for that.” She shakes her head. “I—it’s—he’s dead, and my heart hurts. A part of me is kinda relieved. I don’t gotta worry about them being loose ends if Antonio screws up.”
A chill goes through me. My mind strays back to the note in my father’s file.
“How long have you been working for them?” She doesn’t meet my gaze as she rubs her hands along her cheeks.
“A few months.”
“So you know.”
“Know what?”
“That no one makes it out alive, anyway. But we did. We’ll be okay now.” Her voice is thick. When she lifts her hand to tuck her long dark-brown hair behind her ear, it shakes. “I have to figure out how to tell my kids.” Her voice catches. “He was a good dad.” More stray tears streak down her face. “He was a really good dad.”
“I’m so sorry. I know that’s not helpful. But I am. I liked him.” It’s not exactly true, but it’s not a lie, either. He certainly had a side I came to like.
She grabs a tissue from the box near the couch. “That’s nice of you to say. I appreciate you coming. I don’t know if it was Lorcan’s idea to send you or what, but I’m glad it wasn’t a letter and some money like he promised. I’m glad someone came.”
“Do you need me to call anyone to be with you?”
She runs a hand over her hair. “No, I’ll be okay. I gotta get myself together before the kids come home from school.” Her voice catches again. “It just makes me sad, you know? We had our problems, but he didn’t deserve this. My kids don’t deserve this.”
People like Antonio bring kids into this life. Could I do it? Would I even want to? It seemed both brave and foolish. My parents loved Chad and I more than anything. I felt it every time they looked at us, spoke to us, touched us. How do people bring children into the world only to put them in danger? Carys never had any kids. She said she couldn’t imagine fearing for anyone more than she feared for herself. Kids were a liability. A weakness.
“It’s not a life for everyone.”