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"Yes, I knew this was what you were going to do, and didn't I warn you against it?"
"You did. But you knew I was going to do it anyway, so why are you giving me that admonishing glare?"
"Because I thought you were better than this."
"What am I supposed to fucking do?" I leaned against the counter in the kitchen as Reginald cooked. He looked like he was making a stew of some sort. It smelled heavenly and divine, and my stomach grumbled.
"If you're hungry, she's hungry too."
"I'll feed her, all right? I'm going to make her a sandwich."
I aimed for the fridge, and Reginald planted a hand on it before I could open it. I could fight him for it. But while he was old, he was shockingly strong, and I knew I’d have to hurt him to open it, which I would never do. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"You're not making that girl some sandwich. You're going to take her some of this oxtail stew. Do you understand me?"
"You're feeding her oxtail?"
"Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I don't like her. She's innocent in all this. She has done nothing, as you already said."
"It doesn't matter what she's done or hasn’t done. The point is, Massimo wants her. I thought you understood that."
"You don't listen to anyone. All you can see is what you want, boy."
"I'm hardly a boy, Reginald."
"To me, you'll always be a boy, insisting that you are following in your father and your uncle's footsteps, running off to play secret spy. They did it for Queen and Country. You did it for them, hoping to avenge them or something. I don't know. Hoping to make them proud. And up until you did this, they would have been proud of you."
Proud of me? I was doing this for them. I wanted to get back in the field to bring the people responsible for their deaths to justice. Why couldn’t he see that? I knocked his arm out of the way, but he didn't move. "Let go of the fridge, old man."
He laughed in my face. Reginald was as tall as me, but he was older, not nearly as muscled as I was.
"I'm going to make her a bloody sandwich."
"Boy, sit your arse down. You will not make that girl a sandwich. You will take her real and proper food with real goddamn utensils.”
“I’m not giving her utensils. Are you fucking mad? She’s already proven too resourceful. She’ll just make a weapon."
"Well, you can feed her then."
Putting me in close enough proximity to bite? "I'm not feeding her. She'll feed herself."
Reginald shook his head. "You sit down."
And much like when I was eleven, I obeyed. Because the only alternative to complying was to fight him, and even I wasn't that far gone. He was basically the only person in the world I would listen to after my uncle died.
"Now, I'm going to feed you, and then I'm going to feed that girl up there. Let her know that someone in this house other than her doesn't think she belongs here."
I frowned at that. "Why are you like this?"
"Because sometimes, boy, you need a father to tell you what's right and what's wrong. You have fucked up."
"I haven't fucked up. Besides, Massimo wants her. How long do you think she's going to survive on her own anyway?"
He laughed in my face then. An actual laugh. One that showed the crinkles around his dark brown eyes. "Oh boy, if I thought for a moment you had brought her here to protect her, I wouldn't be giving you half the guff I am. You brought her here for your own purposes. You're just as bad as he is."
I glowered at him. "No, I'm not. He and his father work for the Syndicate. I gave half my life working for that gob shite of a man to take out members of the Syndicate, to dismantle the whole fucking organization. They killed my father."
"Your uncle should never have told you that, but I can't do anything about it now because he did. And do you think that fool trying to take them down was a good idea? That’s exactly why he isn’t around anymore."
