How long am I going to think about him every minute of the day? How am I ever going to find somebody like that?
There’s only one answer and I don’t like it.
Once we’re back at the house the girls need a hearty lunch. I use leftover marinade from yesterday to make them some chicken. I don’t feel hungry until Karen insists I eat some, too.
I decide we’re getting delivery for dinner, courtesy of Quentin’s stash. I still need to figure out something to do with that. I can’t pay a lawyer in stacks of cash, can I?
Wait, what am I saying? I probably can.
I let the girls go for a few hours. Karen does homework while Kelly plays video games in the living room and I try not to drink.
It would be so easy to just pop the cork from that bottle I opened last night.
Instead I notice the time and call the girls down to decide what to order before the places all close. It’ll be two large pizzas, one with extra cheese at Kelly’s insistence, and the other with pepperoni. I don’t care, I could eat either. I’m finally starting to feel hungry.
After I order I send them back upstairs and sit in the living room. Maybe twenty minutes later, my doorbell rings.
“Damn, that was fast.”
When I open the door I find not a pizza delivery person, but a tall man in a light linen suit, wearing a pair of gloves and a black mask that completely covers his face.
I blink then I slam the door shut, too late. His hand catches it and throws it open. The door hits me and knocks me square on my ass.
I scurry away on all fours and throw myself to my feet, but he catches my ankle and pulls me back. Karen pops out of her bedroom and I motion for her to go back in.
“Tell them to come down.”
His voice is muffled by the mask, but deep. He has an accent but nothing about it tells me from where, exactly. I roll on my back and scoot away.
“I direct your attention to that sconce on the wall,” he says, pointing to the light by the kitchen door.
There’s a sound of glass shattering as my front window cracks and the light explodes into pieces, all without a sound.
There’s a little red light on the wall just below where it used to be.
“The laser is not for sighting purposes. Rather I think it should be quite clear what it is meant for.”
I look down and the little red dot has already centered on my chest.
“Tell the children to come down.”
Still I say nothing. Karen, run, get Kelly and run.
“I will take them whether you die or not. This is your last chance.”
“Karen,” I croak out. “Get your sister.”
The girls are already coming down the stairs.
The dot snaps away from my chest and settles on Karen’s forehead. My whole body goes solid like a block of ice.
“Stand up.”
I grab the couch and pull myself to my feet. Oh God. Oh God.
“What do you want? Who are you?”
“What I want is a complex matter, one I shall explain to you in the car. As to who I am, I am many things to many people. I might say that I am the devil, and I come to do the devil’s work. But it is better if you call me by name. I am Santiago de la Rosa.”
17
Quentin
By dark of night I leave, drawing out of Rose’s bed in soft silence. I leave her lying on her side, her pale skin aglow in the dark, her red hair made inky black in shadow, a sleeping princess in a world that doesn’t belong to me. It’s time to go.
My first act is to retrieve the case full of cash from the house. I dart across the gap between her home and my safe house, retrieve the case, scrawl a note, and rest it on the easy chair in her bedroom.
I want to kiss her, to touch her cheek or her hand or something, but if I wake her she will talk me into staying another day and I will protest I must leave again, and the cycle will repeat until the devil comes calling to collect his due.
I won’t ever let him have her.
This is not going to be easy.
Back at the house I move everything from the garage to the basement, except what gear I feel is worth it to take with me. I have a program on the computer that wipes the hard drives, replacing the data with useless gibberish. It’ll take all night to run since it repeats the process seven times, but once the first is done I’ll leave and just let it run while I’m gone.
All in all it takes me less than forty-five minutes to pack up. I take only enough clothes to last a few days, my dad’s gun, and some other weapons and ammunition. Time comes I need more, there’s going to be plenty of it.
I have become the target of the international fraternity of assassins. No one else will touch me as long as Santiago is on the hunt—none of them would dare risk offending him by stealing his kill.
Once I kill Santiago, though, it’ll be open season on Quentin. There will be dozens more after me.
So that’s the plan: kill them all. Once they stop coming I’ll start working my way through my old contacts. I will make my life mean something. No more will I serve flesh-mongers and warlords, thieves and procurers. I will go where the authorities can’t, do what the police cannot do.