And she’s carrying her bat.
“Like making sure your Duchess stays put.”
The Prince gives his wife an exasperated look. But she’s unrepentant.
“Like you weren’t thinking the exact same thing.”
“Apparently, you’re all thinking the same thing.”
A voice drifts from the landing above. Ellie’s voice. She comes marching down, arms crossed. She reaches towards her sister with a scowl.
“Let’s go, Negan—hand Lucille over.”
Olivia rolls her eyes and gives up the murder weapon.
“I told you I wanted to let it go. Now I want your promise, right now, that you’ll leave it alone.” She looks at her sister first. “Liv?”
She’s unhappy, but she gives in. “Fine. I promise I’ll leave it alone.”
Then Ellie lays eyes on her brother-in-law. A man knows when he can’t win. “You have my word, Ellie.”
And she doesn’t leave me or Tommy out.
“I promise, lass,” Tommy says, making the sign of the cross and kissing his knuckle up to God.
I look Ellie straight in the face. “I’ll let it go.”
“Say you promise,” Ellie pushes.
“I promise.”
Sometimes, I lie.
Once we’re sure Prince Nicholas, Lady Olivia and Ellie are safely under lock and key, Tommy falls in step beside me as we walk down the street. Both of us know exactly where we’re going.
I knock on the door, then lean back against the wall so he can’t see us through the peephole. And because Tommy’s watched Tommy Boy one too many times, he says in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, “Housekeeping.”
And the dumb wanker opens the door, just a crack, but it’s enough. As soon as he spots me, his eyes go wide and he tries to slam it in my face. But I shove my way in and push him up against the wall by his neck. His pulse judders against my palm like the heart of a jackrabbit about to be torn apart by a wolf.
“You picked the wrong girl to put your hands on.”
He sputters. “Wait! I didn’t mean . . . You can’t do this. I’ll report you. They’ll fire you—take your job.”
I laugh, sounding maniacal even to my own ears. “You’ll . . . you’ll take my job?”
Then I stop laughing. “I’ll take your cock off and shove it down your throat. Then I’ll feed you, bit by bit, to the hogs, till all that’s left of you is a steaming pile of pig shit in the morning.”
He almost starts to cry.
Tommy locks the door and turns the television on, upping the volume. Not loud enough to draw complaints, but enough to muffle the groans this cunt’s about to emit.
Holding him by the throat, I toss him over to Tommy, who shoves him back to me, both of us circling, closing in. The fucker’s head turns, eyes darting back and forth between us. “Come on, guys, it was a mistake. This isn’t fair—it’s two against one. I don’t even have a chance.”
“‘This isn’t fair,’” Tommy whines. “You know why they picked us to guard the royal family? Two nobodies from nowhere?”
“Why?”
Tommy shakes his head, almost pitying. “’Cause we’re not nearly as civilized as we look.”
And he might actually piss himself.
Which would be messy, so I give him a small slice of hope. “I’ll let you have the first shot.”
His pupils are huge, prey’s eyes. He doesn’t lift his hands, doesn’t take a swing.
And patience is not my strong suit. “The offer has an expiration point—about three seconds from now. Three . . . two . . .”
Panicked, he throws out his fist, hitting me in the chin, barely moving my head.
I chuckle. “Bloody hell, no wonder you like to smack little girls. You hit like a pussy.” I look to Tommy. “Your sister punches harder.”
Tommy scoffs. “Yeah, but Janey is especially badass.”
I turn back to the sack of shit.
“You’re doing it all wrong. You want to turn your hips and your shoulders into the punch. Use the force of your whole body. Don’t push with your knuckles.”
I demonstrate on his face. Quick. Hard. Pitiless.
And a tooth goes bouncing across the floor.
“Like that. See what I did there?”
He folds over, holding his mouth with both hands, blood seeping through his fingers. But all I see in my mind is Ellie’s pretty face, marred with a nasty bruise from this bastard’s hand.
“I don’t think he gets it, Lo,” Tommy says. “You better show him again.”
Couldn’t agree more.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s nothing but a groaning pile of bloody clothes, bruises and splintered bones.
“Fucking hell,” Tommy curses, fingering a spot of blood on the front of his light gray shirt. “You got club soda?” he asks the heap.
When there’s no response, Tommy nudges him with his foot. “Hey! You got any club soda?”
The heap moans in the negative and Tommy shakes his head, disgusted.
“Useless bastard.” Then he spits on him.
“Really?” I ask Tommy.
“What? It’s my favorite shirt.”
Tommy may have a touch of sociopath in him.
I crouch down and lift the shitbag up by his collar, my tone soft and serious, “You come near Ellie Hammond again, if she glimpses you on the street . . . I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Then Tommy and I stroll through the door.
Out on the pavement, heading for home, Tommy pulls his eyes from the tragedy of his stained shirt and glances at me. “You laid it on pretty thick at the end.”
“What do you mean?”
We take the stairs down to the subway.
“I mean, if he’s stupid enough to come sniffin’ around Ellie again, we’d bust him up, sure—but we’d leave him breathing, wouldn’t we?”
I take a moment to think about my answer before I respond.
“Yeah. Sure we would. I was just making a point.”
Like I said . . . sometimes, I lie.
LOGAN IS WATCHING ME.
He’s been doing that a lot lately. Even when I don’t catch him doing it, I feel it—like the brush of a hand on my skin. It makes me warm . . . tingly. And the spot on my forehead, where he kissed me that night . . . I can still feel that too.
I’ve talked with Olivia about moments that change our lives. How it’s important but difficult to recognize them when they happen. Things that change us, forever. Logan was worried that Mitchell did would change who I am. It didn’t.
But, he changed who I think other people are. I can’t help that. It seemed like it came out of nowhere, without any warning or sign. But maybe there were signs, and I missed them.
Now I know to look beneath the surface, to be smarter—to question that what’s on the outside, the words people say and the things they do, might be totally and completely different from what’s really going on, on the inside.
I talked to Logan about it too, a few days later. About people who lie, misrepresent for all kinds of reasons.