Lily bunches the mask in her fist. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now? All I know how to do is kill people.”
“You have some good ideas,” Rose says softly. “Stopping criminals and helping innocent people. Why don’t you do it?”
She blinks a few times. “Me, how could I—”
“You were trained by the best,” I say, and slump into the couch.
“Nobody will believe I’m him.”
“Why not? Ninety percent of the time he never met clients face-to-face. He took contracts and delivered proof and that was it. You could do that.”
“You want me to keep it going, kill people.”
“I want you to use it, from the inside.” I shrug and wince at the movement. “Just like you said. The kind of info Santiago can gather…”
“I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”
“I’m out.”
Rose squeezes my hand.
“If you help me, I’ll help you,” Lily says. “I’ll keep them off your back. I’ll start there. You won’t have to look over your shoulder.”
I sigh. “You want me to help you use Santiago’s resources and connections to start dismantling criminal conspiracies and saving innocent people.”
“Yes. If we keep up a front as criminals they’ll never…”
“Fine, I’m sold.”
“I’ll be in contact,” Lily says, rising. She stuffs the mask in her pocket. “We can be more than killers, Quentin.”
She leaves, and Rose locks the door behind her. She sits down next to me and rests her hand on my chest.
“You already are,” Rose says, and rests her head on my shoulder.
She slips her arms around me.
I don’t say anything for a while. I like the feeling of her breathing against me.
Karen finally emerges and sits on the couch beside me, on the other end. She rubs her hands together.
“Are you going to leave us?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Language,” Rose mumbles.
Guy could get used to this.
22
Rose
I pace the lobby, hugging myself. I’m in my best skirt-suit and pumps, made up as professionally as I can get. The girls are in their Sunday best, so to speak.
Quentin cleans up nicely. He looks sharp in a suit that hides all those lovely tattoos, and with his hair cut and cleanly shaved he looks like he could be a lawyer himself, if he stopped slouching.
Then Russ slimes his way down the hallway, his pretty little trophy wife in tow. He walks up to me and looks at the girls.
“Hello, Rose. I’m really sorry about all this.”
“No you’re not,” Quentin sighs.
“What’s he doing here?”
I unfold my arms and lift up my left hand, proudly displaying the engagement ring on my finger. Quentin splurged. I can see the jealousy in his wife’s eyes. Russ’s face turns red.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not keeping custody of my children.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Come on, girls, it’s time.”
As they take my hands, the girls look at Russ. Kelly sticks her tongue out at him. Karen huffs and turns away sharply.
Quentin rises behind us and sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugs, and follows me into the courtroom.
My lawyer rushes to meet us. I’m just finishing up my bachelor’s, after all. I’m not quite ready to defend myself. An older, portly man, he beckons for us to sit down at the table next to him.
Russ sits next to his lawyer; his wife takes a seat back in the gallery. It might look impolitic if he brings his bimbo to the custody hearing.
The bailiff steps out and drones, “All rise,” in a bored voice, and everybody stands up. Quentin is the last to his feet, a contemptuous look on his face. My lawyer gives him a dirty look.
The judge comes in and ascends the bench. My stomach does a back flip. I knew this was coming, but I know this guy. He was a friend of Russ, and was a professor when I was in college the first time. Fifteen years later he’s still the same sour-looking, rail-thin man he was then. Judge Linkletter, his name is. First name is Frank.
He motions for everybody to sit down, and I sink to my chair and clutch Karen’s hand. This is not good. Russ has a smug look on his face, the little snake. Russ’s lawyer is friends with the both of them, too. This is a farce. It’s not fair.
My lawyer says I can stop them taking the girls with an appeal, but it’ll be a complicated and expensive process.
The judge shuffles in his chair and looks right at Quentin.
Quentin gives him a little finger wave.
Oh good God.
Linkletter clears his throat. “I see no reason to waste the people’s time. Having reviewed the evidence presented by the complaining party, I’ve decided to dismiss this custody claim with prejudice.”
Russ sits up. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I look at Quentin.
He looks at me and winks.
The rest of it is a blur. I swear we were in the courtroom for less than half an hour before I walked out holding my kids’ hands.
“This isn’t the end of this,” Russ hisses, appearing in front of me. His wife scowls at us.