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I can’t say I forgive her because she never actually apologized, and I don’t expect her to. In classic Raleigh fashion, she’s managed to make a confession without admitting guilt. I admire her more than ever for such a contradictory skill.
“Raleigh,” I say, my chest feeling lighter than it has in years, “you’ve always been my best friend. And you always will be. I’ve made a mess of everything, but I’m finally going to go make it right.”
Raleigh blinks, looking more confused than ever, but that’s all right. Someday, I hope she can accept that things can be simple between us again.
I don’t wait for her response. I don’t want her to feel pressured to wish me luck, and I already know she hates goodbyes. Instead, I turn down the road leading back into the city, and start walking.
I’ve only made it a few feet when I hear running footsteps behind me. Raleigh skids to a stop at my side and throws her arms around my shoulders, crushing me in a hug that soothes every ache left between us. I return it enthusiastically, the bubble inside me threatening to turn to laughter again.
We hold each other for a long time. If everything goes wrong, we might not ever see each other again. But at least we’re getting to say goodbye in our own way this time. At least when we part we don’t have to be suspicious, or wonder what if.
That sends a pang through me. Thomas will be mad I left. He might even be hurt. But I know this is the right thing to do, and I think he does too, whether he wants to admit it or not. Like Raleigh, his fear of losing made him clamp down harder on what was outside of his control. Unfortunately, none of us can live like that. I can’t stay a prisoner locked up in his room forever, safe or no. But maybe, if all goes well, I can come back to him as an equal once more.
Raleigh gives me one final squeeze, then whispers in my ear, “I forgive you for doing the nasty with my brother.” I snort hard, and she does too, but when she pulls back her face is screwed up into a comical grimace. “Just please- don’t ever ever try to talk to me about it. I want to live in total ignorance.”
“I promise I won’t,” I laugh, and we finally untangle from each other. It’s hard to feel my smile fade, knowing I really am leaving this time. Raleigh’s expression cools, though, and she takes a backward step up the road. There’s a glassiness in her eyes that tells me the tears are coming again, and she isn’t going to let me or anyone see them.
“One more thing,” she says. “Don’t come back here until your uncle is dead.”
It’s a cold thing to say, but she’s not wrong to say it. If I can’t either bring an end to the Speare estate or claim it for myself, then returning would be nothing short of an insult to Thomas and Raleigh, to Iris, to everyone here.
After a moment of silence to steady my voice, I nod and repeat, “I promise I won’t.”
Raleigh returns my nod, satisfied. Without another word, she goes back to the tunnel door and closes it behind her. It immediately disappears into the low hill it’s cut into, the outside of the door being camouflaged by faux rocks and foliage. When I’m sure it’s as hidden as it was before we passed through it, I turn back down the road and start hurrying back home.
CHAPTER 31
Thomas
Derrick Lindman’s warmly apologetic voice and the distant barks of his goddamn dogs have never been more hateful to me than they are in this moment. “Unfortunately, Mr. Warwick, I’m afraid that a raid of that scale is going to take at least three days to put together. I have to get various permissions from the mayor… I have to meet with my assistant sheriffs… Alter the weekly patrol schedule… Then there’s the budget restrictions…”
I fight every muscle in my right arm that wants to slam my phone against my desk until it shatters. Just yesterday I pulled out all the stops to convince Derrick to support my war with Morgan Speare. I’d anticipated a week’s wait, maybe two, until the Sheriff’s men could be organized into multiple concurrent raids. But last night Morgan managed to defy every one of my heightened safety measures by bribing a man on the inside.
Again.
A dealer at my own club planted the bomb that went off last night, then managed to stage a smoke break to escape the blast himself.
How the fuck am I supposed to win a war when my own people are turning against me?
Better yet, where is Morgan getting the money to bribe men that I pay quite generously? His empire is not worth as much as mine, and he’s a known traitor. Despite that, men who owe their loyalty to me are doing his dirty work. Why?
Fear is one of the more potent motivators, but my protection is good. At least, it is until those I’m protecting decide to bite the hand that feeds them. What could Morgan be threatening to do that would cause men to jeopardize their own good fortunes?
Derrick is still droning on. Iris, on her third cup of assam, glares at the phone in my hand like she can stab him across the radio waves. She’s already offered to torture compliance out of him, and if I don’t keep my own calm, she might take matters into her own hands before the day is over.
Seven people died last night, and twenty more were injured. Four of the dead were people under the protection of the Warwicks. The names of my lost are beginning to rack up, and I haven’t even taken a swing. Less importantly, but still something I must take into account, is the loss of income from both the club and the bar above it, which was also a place where I did a great deal of product storage.
All in all, this was a very strategic first blow by Morgan, which is… unusual. His approach to warfare tends to consist of sheer brutality. I never would have expected something like this from him.
Which means someone else is whispering in his ear.
Finally, I interrupt Derrick’s neverending list of excuses. “You said you’ll have your men organized in three days?”
“Well- I’ll do everything in my power, Mr. Warwick, but it might be up to a week before we can come out in the force you need-”
“How about this?” I ask, dropping any pretense of politeness. “For every one Warwick life lost before you get your shit together, I’ll take a day off of your term.”
There’s nothing but an electronic buzz in my ear now. Iris sits up slowly in her chair, her forgotten mug tipping dangerously over her lap. I reach out and tap at it with my finger, and she rights it.
