He smiled but still didn’t look at me. “Maybe I’m trying to keep it a secret.”
“Is this for whatever we’re doing today?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And does it have to do with the Club?”
“It does.”
“Then I think I deserve to know.”
He looked up finally and raised an eyebrow as I bit into my toast and stared back.
“Deserve?” he asked.
“The Club is my territory,” I said. “And since I’m helping you with them, I feel like you should tell me what you’re planning.”
“You’re showing me their hideouts and naming some of their soldiers. You’re not getting involved in my actual plans.”
“You should rethink that,” I said.
He laughed and closed the lid of his laptop. “You really want to know?” he asked. “Even after last night, you still want to know?”
I frowned and looked away for a second. I picked up my fork and scraped the tines down the plate. The sound was too bright and high pitched, and it made me wince. I stopped and dropped the fork.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe I don’t.”
“You don’t,” he said. “Trust me, little Colleen. You’re better off not knowing.”
I stared at him and remembered the gunshots, remembered the wild look in his eye.
As cool and calm as he sometimes seemed, Steven liked action. He like danger and blood and pain. I saw the thrill written all over his face as we drove away from that robbery, and although he felt guilty for letting things go bad, he still loved every second of it.
“At least tell me if this will be dangerous,” I said.
“It will be very dangerous.” He put his hands on the table palms down and leaned toward me. “Want to stay home?”
“No,” I said.
He grinned. “I didn’t think so. Finish eating. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” He got up and disappeared upstairs, bringing his laptop with him.
I ate my eggs and toast, drank my coffee, and thought about how much trouble I’d gotten in with him, and wondered if I’d ever be able to get back out again.
* * *
I sat in the back seat of Steven’s black SUV, one elbow on the door, leaning my cheek against the glass. We’d been sitting in the car for the last two hours with the windows up, and it was beginning to get so hot that I felt sweat roll down my back.
“Turn on the air, man,” Davide said, sitting in the seat next to mine. He leaned forward toward Steven, who sat behind the wheel.
“Can’t,” he said. “It’ll draw too much attention.”
“Then crack a window. This is fucking torture.”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Since when did you become such a fucking pussy, Davide?
“Since you kept me locked up in a god damn boiling hot car. Come on, tell him, Colleen.” Davide looked at me, almost pleading. “You’re hot too. Your face is all red.”
“It’s hot in here,” I said.
Steven glanced at me in the rearview. “Not you too.”
“Just turn on the engine for a few minutes,” I said.
“Fine.” He turned the key and the car started. The AC blew in strong as he cranked it up. “Ten minutes to cool it all down and then I’m turning it off again.”
“Fuck yes,” Davide said, leaning over to get closer to the air vents.
Alex laughed from the passenger side but I noticed he didn’t complain. I let out a sigh as the car started to cool off, but I was still bored out of my mind.
I didn’t know what we were waiting for or who we were watching. Steven didn’t tell me, and Alex and Davide didn’t talk to me much more than they had to. That was really the first time Davide had even acknowledged that I was a person, and not just some mannequin sitting in the seat next to him.
We were deep in Celtic Club territory, parked on a quiet block with several businesses on either side. There was a hairdresser, a dollar store, a Chinese food place, and a bodega on the corner. Apartments sat on top of each business, and locals walked along the sidewalks, coming in and out of the buildings, hurrying to get into the shade and hide from the overbearing humidity.
Even with the AC, I still felt sweat dripping down my skin.
Steven looked like he couldn’t have cared less. Even in a long sleeve white dress shirt tucked into black trousers, he looked cool and smooth like we were going to church. At least he left the jacket at home, but I thought even that wouldn’t hamper him too much.
Alex fidgeted in his seat and popped open the glove compartment. He slid out a black pistol and popped out the magazine. He checked it, pulled back and slide, and chambered a round before leaning back and holding the gun in his hands.
“Put that away,” Steven said.
Alex looked at him. “Almost go time.”
“But not yet. Put it away.”
Alex grunted, pushed it back into the glove back, and shut it again.
I felt my heart start to beat faster. They were about to do something violent, I was sure of it. I couldn’t say what exactly, but we were so deep in Club territory, it could be anything. I recognized a few of the businesses on the block, especially the bodega and the hairdresser.
Davide gave me a look and tilted his head to the side. I stared back out the window, and I could feel the anxiety rolling down my skin in waves. I shifted, uncomfortable, afraid, and I wanted to beg Steven not to go through with whatever he planned.
But as soon as I thought I might open my mouth, I remembered my father, and I remembered what my uncle said to Steven in that bookstore.
The bastard thought I was a traitor. And he was more than willing to take it out on my father, who had already given so much to the Club.
I hated him, hated all of them. The Club didn’t deserve my pity. If Steven was going to do something violent, I wanted him to
