Violence twitches his expression, but he checks it, answers me with a grim stare. I laugh, much more bitterly than I intended. Do they think I'm fucking stupid? Do they see me as some mindless sap just because I'm quiet most of the time? I can't keep quiet any longer.
“And when are you going to tell me the rest?”
The next beat is so heavy I nearly stand and leave this tragedy-in-motion. The pause is pregnant with that connection between them, and with reluctance to give me a straight answer.
“What are you talking about, Iz?” Maria asks, a shade above a whisper.
She knows, has to by now, that I'm not shooting blind. Has neither of them guessed just yet that I heard that conversation in the kitchen? I heard Freddy report to her. I heard all those grimy details that neither of them is saying now.
I give her a wry smile, dry enough that a good wind would shatter it. Then I nail Freddy with my accusation and say, “You know, the part where you tried to talk her out of this, how you hate it and you'd rather pack your shit and disappear like you're so good at doing.” My eyes slide to Maria. “And the part about why my best friend bled to death in my arms.”
She goes utterly still, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. She's been caught with her secrets in her hands. Both of them have. Now how will she respond? If she gives me that innocence bullshit, I swear I'll fucking walk right now.
But she doesn't. She closes her mouth, squares her shoulders, and says, “This meeting is regarding our plan.” Her voice cracks just a little. “Of course, I was going to tell you the details.”
Something snaps in me, something so similar to what made me fuck her.
“When? Whenever you felt it wouldn't affect your little play for power? Whenever you were done fitting me into your plan? Or don't you think I deserve to know all that? You weren't there to hear his dying word and you treat me like this isn't my fight. So which is it, Maria? You want me around to play soldier for you, which is a lot easier if I don't know why I'm even fighting. Or you really want to cut me loose? Don't forget that I've been around longer than anyone.”
She gasps and it feels like a shot to my lungs. My words squeeze themselves off in my throat, and it's like a blow to the spleen when the tears gather in her eyes. Fuck. What am I doing? What the hell are we doing, sitting here planning something dramatic and sinister enough to hoist us into complete notoriety – or send us to prison for eternity?
She sniffles. Goddammit. Her voice is quiet when she answers.
“Because I didn't want to hear you say you hate it, too.”
I take a shaky pull on my cigarette. It does its part to soothe my nerves, so that my voice comes steady when I say, “Freddy's right, this whole thing stinks. It doesn't feel right. He's also right about this: it's fucked up for your own family to use you and your bitterness for their dirty work.”
The tears loose themselves down her cheeks, and she presses her lips into a thin line. She's trying to get her shit together. All in all, a teacher might admit that she's doing a damn good job.
There's no retreating this time, no bowing out as the others try to assert dominance. The real truth is that she inherited her rank and I earned mine. I stare her down, ignoring Freddy like an annoying little brother.
I say, “I've already laid my loyalty at your feet, and I'll do right by the friend who always had my back by watching his sister's. But you'll hear this from me, this is a bad fucking idea.”
She sniffs again. Now I turn to Freddy, whose expression is less a challenge and more a mask. Still, he doesn't cower in the heat of my conviction, just meets my eyes like a man. For that, I can respect him.
I say, “You know this is some bad juju.”
He sighs, but his expression doesn't change. His tone is resigned when he says, “This is as much my revenge as hers.”
“Which is why neither of you cares about the implications of your actions. I'm only in this to see you live, Maria. Just keep that in mind. I'll do whatever you ask me to, but I can't save you from yourself.”
I stand up. They’re both staring at me, a strange wariness shared in their gazes. This is the me they don't know, the one I've kept hidden. The one I always knew she would coax forth. I don't speak another sound. I don't really think I need to. I hold her eyes for a few, long moments before I turn and walk away. Neither of them says a word.
Chapter 28 Waltz in Red
Joshua
I jerk into waking at a sound – it's familiar but out of place and makes me bolt upright in the bed. For a moment, I just stare. Where the fuck am I? Everything here is strange. The sound starts again. My phone, now muffled and buried somewhere in the sheet that covers me.
A body stirs beside me and everything clicks into place. Eva, this is her bed, her apartment in the Garden District. And my phone is still ringing.
I see the screen light and feel the vibration through the mattress, and sluggishly I excavate the fucker. The glare is like needles in my eyes as I squint at the name on the screen. Izzy.
Anxiety streaks through me as I hit the answer button. This can't be good.
“Yeah?”
The voice that answers is thin, tired, and . . . pissed? “They lied to me.”
My thoughts churn like a bunch of rusty gears, clunking along like an old
