Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(91)

68


BEFORE


When both Elin and I have graduated university with our respective degrees, we strike out from beneath the protective umbrella of Delphine and Noble Knight and are permitted to relocate to the States, to Florida to be exact, for a couple of reasons. And by “reasons,” I mean me.

One, because Florida holds a special place in my heart because of the yearly excursions Dad and I make to the races. Two, because Florida can be hot and doesn’t have cold weather like England does. We all know how much I detest the cold. Three, because Florida has Miami, which is a port city (something Dad loves) and is a melting pot of so many cultures I feel I am both back home and not, at the same time.

Elin chooses to live in the high-rise flat in Coconut Grove, which is beautiful and fitting of the type of woman Elin has become, chic and sophisticated. A true High Council member-to-be. But I choose to live somewhere subtler, more comfortable to me. It is in Freedom City, in a neighborhood called Citrus Grove, where I find my home. It is small, with chipped, faded yellow paint and shingles in need of work I will happily pay for. It sits on the corner, and I can imagine how it will look when I am done renovating it.

I also meet the man who will become one of my closest associates, Keigel, head of the 102s, the local band of merry gang members. Keigel acts tough at first but soon changes when he realizes I don’t scare easily.

He appraises me as if I am a specimen. “And this ain’t no gentrification-type shit?” he asks when I tell him I mean to be his neighbor—three doors down.

“Not in the least.”

He twists his lips. “I ain’t no superman, ya heard?” he warns. “You come across trouble here, I can’t save you.”

“I understand.” Perfectly.

I enjoy Keigel’s company because he’s a softy under a gruff exterior. And he has impeccable taste in lemon-pepper wings from Wings and Such. However, if he asks, I will deny it.





69


AFTER


Gently, Nena took the phone and switched off the speaker. She didn’t want Cort to hear if the news about Georgia was bad. Knowing she had been right about Elin’s now husband was devastating news enough for one of the people Nena cared about. She didn’t know if she could handle destroying the hopes of someone else just yet. Beside her, Elin balled her trembling hands at her sides. Nena put the phone to her ear.

“What is it?”

“Did Elin share our good news?” Oliver said, as if he weren’t waging war against them. Nena could hear wind whooshing in the background. Car. But how far had he gone? And was he alone?

“Where is she?”

“With me.” He laughed, his words wreaking havoc on her system. “She’s a spitfire and can hit like a motherfucker.”

Nena weighed her words carefully, trying to keep her emotions in check as if she were on the job. But this wasn’t any job. This was personal.

“What do you want?”

“You to come alone.”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

Oliver ignored her, rattling off an address Nena committed to memory.

“And come alone,” he finished seriously. “No team. No Elin. No one but you, or—”

Dread squeezed the air from her throat. “Or?”

“Or history repeats itself. I’d say it’s time for a little family reunion, don’t you agree?”

The line went dead before she could get her question out. What did he mean, family reunion? Wordlessly, Nena returned the phone to Elin. She sat back on her haunches. Ice-cold tentacles of fear wound their way through every nerve in her body. Nena cursed herself for not knowing what to do next. It was her job to know. But everything was coming up blank.

Cort wheezed, “What about Peach?”

The question woke her up.

Nena wiped at her eyes and looked down at her fingers, surprised they came away damp. Now was not the time to sift through the tumult of feelings, not when there was work to do. “They have her,” she said, getting to her feet.

Cort’s eyes widened at seeing a gun in her hands. “Nena, what the hell?”

“I need to go after them before it’s too late.”

Elin tore her gaze away from the floor. Her face was riddled with guilt and shame, eyes rimmed with tears as infrequent to her as they were to Nena. “I am so sorry,” Elin whispered, the enormity of the situation threatening to split her in two. “I should have known. I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t.”

“I can’t lead the Tribe if I can’t trust my own instincts, my judgment of character. I can’t. I fucked up.” The tears pooling in her eyes spilled, failure consuming her.

Nena glanced at her watch. She looked away, thinking. Looked back at her sister, conflicted. What was the appropriate thing to do? For the second time that night, she chose to comfort someone else.

“We are a team,” Nena said.

Cort interjected. “We need to call the cops.”

“No cops,” both women said automatically.

Elin tore her gaze away from him, her face wrought with worry and guilt and terror.

“I need to go.” Nena turned to leave.

Elin scrambled to her feet, her outstretched hand stopping Nena. “Let me go with you. I can reason with Oliver. Maybe I can offer him whatever he wants.”