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“You two have always worried you’re like Mom.” I forced myself to swallow. “But I’m Dad, in a lot of ways. And Justin is lost.”
Hope shook her head. “You’re not Dad, and we would’ve noticed. Not Dadat all. I love you, Bridget, but I have to go. I’m so sorry. It sounds like the twins are just losing it in the other room. They both have ear infections.”
Layla smiled. “Mine are just getting up, so I’d better go, too, but stop disappearing. Also, please let us know that Michael is okay when it’s over? Although I’m glad you’re exploring the relationship aspect finally, he’s like an old friend I really care about, especially considering he saved my life. If you make him my brother-in-law, he’ll finallybefamily.”
I gaped at her. “No one has talked about that. No M word at all.”
Hope groaned. “It’s like having to drag you from point A to point B while the rest of us are fully aware of how oblivious you’re being. He wants tomake plans. Love you.”
They both disconnected the call, and I put my phone down on the bed. The door swung open, and Stephen frowned at me. “Come on. He’ll kill me for this, but I get it. I’d want to see it if someone I loved was doing something crazy, too.”
“Do you love someone, Stephen?” I followed him into Michael’s office even as he laughed at my question. Apparently, the thought of him being in love cracked him up. The screens glowed in the office, and I quickly found which ones showed Michael’s other house. How many places did he own? If we made a commitment to each other, would he reveal the extent of his holdings or would there always necessarily be secrets about his life because of the nature of his work? I bit my fingernail fully aware that my head had been open lately, so I could think and reason, but right then it was getting full again.When Michael gets home, maybe he’ll say to give it tohim. I didn’t want to analyze why just thinking of him offered such a fucking relief.
Michael walked across the living room of the other house and sat down in a brown chair with his computer open as though he was working. Maybe he was. A woman with long red hair, about my height and weight, sat down in the chair next to him. Instead of talking to Michael, she opened the book in her hands and started to read.
Stephen’s phone dinged, and he looked down at it. “He wants to know how you’re doing.” Looking up at me, Stephen shrugged. “This is what it’s like when we watch you, by the way. He always wants to know what you’re doing.”
I never met Stephen before Russia, so I wasn’t sure when he kept surveillance on me. “When did you watch me?”
Stephen shrugged. “Oh, I was one of a few who rotated from a distance. We watched you in Hong Kong for your first year there. It was daily dings from Michael.How is Bridget? What is she doing? Does she seem okay?”
Tito shook his head, his smile rueful. “Heispretty obsessed with you. If anything bad happened to you, it would really hurt him.” He stared at the screen, but I noticed his leg shaking. I stared at the familiar bouncing motion. His tell, I remembered. From when he’d been bluffing. Maybe it was just a nervous habit?
“I wouldn’t say he’s obsessed.” Stephen shot Tito a look. “He’s in love with her. He doesn’t even try to hide it, particularly. I think things were complicated between the two of you, but now they seem to be working out. But he wasn’t obsessed, or at least not more than you should be. Might have been just the right amount for when you love someone.”
More and more, I wondered if Stephen had someone in his life he wasn’t discussing. “What’s her name?” I asked bluntly.
The shot echoed through the room, interrupting our conversation with a single staccato burst of sound. We all fell silent. Both Michael and the unnamed red-haired woman pulled out their guns. Back to back, they fired silently toward unseen targets. Neither even had to duck, as though they knew exactly where things were going to happen before they did.
“Roy,” Stephen looked at me, explaining. “He can see where they’re coming from, and he reports it into their earpieces, so they know where to fire.”
And like that…it was done.
They put their guns back in their holsters like they were cowboys before Michael offered his hand for the other operative to shake. Dizziness washed over me, and I realized I had been holding my breath as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. I braced my hands on the table, blinking fast while I sucked in air.
“Hey…” Stephen sat me down in the chair gently. “He’s okay. Not a scratch on him. See? He’s walking around. They’re dead—the guys who were after you. See? That’s the one that was going to marry you.”
I wiped at my eyes and stared at Konstantin on the screen. “I think I’ve just been holding onto the idea that something was going to go terribly wrong, and now I’m dizzy from it. Yes, he’s okay. He’sokay. What happens now?”
Stephen squatted in front of me. “They have to clean up. Why don’t you go get some water and then I’ll put you on the phone with him. I might be fired for letting you watch, but probably not. He loves me, and you’ve seen how loyal he is to those he values. He’ll just glare at me.”
I laughed, then pressed my knuckles against my lips. Tito still stared at the screen, and he hadn’t said a word or turned around. Maybe he was processing, too. Those men had been through a lot of shit. Who knew what watching that would do to them?
On steady legs—thank goodness—I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. The water got me thinking about stocks. It was funny how things came to me sometimes. When I studied the markets every day, I could see patterns and make decisions based on them. It wasn’t high level math most of the time, just intuition, but if I took a step back from it and watched from the outside, sometimes I had more of a breakthrough. Then I could really tell what to expect it to do the next day. The next week. The next year.
My mind replayed Tito’s bouncing leg during the gunfire—why didn’t he seem happy it was over? He seemed fixated, I thought, remembering his body language.
I put down my water abruptly. Without asking myself too much why, I sprinted to the gun armoire in Michael’s living room. I couldn’t remember him loading his gun before he left, so I hoped that meant it was loaded in the cupboard.
As quietly as I could, I opened the armoire. He’d left it unlocked—probably intending to put his own gun away within a few minutes of getting back home. Hopefully, he would come back and then laugh because I thought I needed a gun. He’d take it away from me, sure, but he totally wouldn’t think I was a madwoman. That was the best-case scenario.
My gut said I wouldn’t have to explain why I thought I needed a gun.
I tended to be right when I saw patterns, when I obsessed, when I couldn’t let go of a thought. I was right normally, and I probably was right now, too.
My gut said something was wrong with Tito.
I grabbed a gun, but Michael would likely have been annoyed to realize I didn’t know what kind of gun I grabbed. Whatever, it wasn’t like it normally came up in my life. I learned how to shoot to protect myself, per Michael’s orders. I knew how to hold, point, and shoot a weapon. I would prefer not to ever shoot one again, but it didn’t mean I didn’t know how. I knew enough about the weapon in my hands—it was a handgun and it was loaded. It was all I needed to know.
