He snatches them from my fingers. His hands are covered in gloves that I am sure would stand on their own with the dirt on them.
“A white van left there only minutes before you arrived. They had loaded a group of girls into the back. They sure were beauties.”
“You get the license plate number?”
His gaze darts to my pocket again.
I grin. He had to survive. I take my wallet back out and take out two more fifties, he tilts his head, and I add a third.
Reaching out, he snatches the money, his eyes growing brighter as he holds the bills tightly in his hand.
“The plate?” I ask again.
“Didn’t get it.” He quickly pockets his money.
I’m ready to take my money back when he holds up his hands.
“I did see the man who loaded the women into the van.”
He describes a man that I haven’t seen before. But with a large tattoo on his neck, it might lead me to something, but I wasn’t sure.
“You sure?” I ask him before I get ready to leave.
“Yeah, he had a tattoo of a gun and a large, red cigar either side of it; it ran along his neck. He was mean-looking.”
I leave the homeless man who disappears behind his boxes and get into the car.
I don’t start the engine but look back at the warehouse. How long would it take for them to find out the men they left behind were dead?
I take out my phone and message Nevs the job. I describe the man with the tattooed neck and also the Torpedo. I also offer him a generous amount of money that I don’t think he will refuse. Once it’s sent, I check my face in the mirror.
Fuck
That was going to leave a scar. There was no way it wouldn’t. I pull the wound apart to see how deep it is. It needs stitches. Blood oozes again, and I release the skin before starting the car and making my way back to the house.
I drive slowly around the block, just checking for cameras again in case I missed them the first time. But if there ever were cameras here, they are long gone now. I don’t imagine much survives in this area.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EVIE
I’ve felt weak a few times in my life. Even at ten, I understood weakness. When you had to stand and watch someone die, you understand there was nothing you could do about it.
The first time I was marked, I felt weak, knowing I couldn’t stop them from branding me.
Letting Lucca walk out that door without me and leaving my sisters in his hands made me feel weak again.
I hold my head high and try to remind myself of all I have survived. All I will survive.
I stay in Lucca’s room for a while. I’m tempted to go downstairs and find Anita, but each time I’m ready to step out into the hall, a security man passes, driving me back inside. Looking out the window, I spot a few security men scattered around the front yard. The amount of security should make me feel more secure, but it doesn’t. It just feels suffocating right now.
“You okay, Kitten?” Anita, Lucca’s sister, steps into the bedroom. She’s wearing a black and white polka dot shirt and trousers. The band in her hair is the same fabric and design as her outfit. She looks glamorous but cheap.
But it’s the kindness that pours from her that I cling to.
“No,” I answer honestly.
She enters the room. “Anything I can help with?”
I’m ready to tell her no. I didn’t think she would help me leave, or Lucca wouldn’t have left me with her, but she could help me in another way.
“It’s Lucca.” I start.
She pulls at one of the large loops on her ear before sitting down on the bed. “Isn’t it always?” Her smile is similar to his.
“He was telling me about growing up in Camp, and it hurt my heart.”
Anita grows serious, and I think I’ve taken this in the wrong direction.
“He told you about Camp?” Disbelief coats her words.
“Yes, it sounded brutal.”
She nods, and her silver eyes darken. I take the moment to sit down beside her.
“My brother is so strong.”
I take her hand in mine. “You must have missed him so much.”
“I did. He was like a father to me. Our own was an absolute waste of space.” Anita pulls at her earring again and rolls her eyes. Her gaze has lightened like she’s referred to her father as that a million times.
“He spent our whole lives behind bars.”
I nod like I knew that.
“My mother always believed that’s why Lucca went to the Camp. That he wanted to be the man our father never was.”
It’s a drop in the ocean. It’s small, minor, some might even say, insignificant information, but the fact it’s about Lucca is enough to try to connect the dots.
“Your mother, is she still alive?” I ask.
Anita releases my hand and shakes her head. “She died a few years back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Kitten.” Anita stands, and I think that’s all the information I’m going to get out of her.
“What about you? Your parents in the land of the living?”
The question has a hand reaching in and squeezing my heart. I had always believed they were, that one day they would find me. I had believed that for eight years. Each night my dad would come and take me back to the shore of County Clare.
“I don’t know.”
Anita is staring at
