Say the Word(125)

I was just happy I hadn’t had to make a trip to the station. Bumping into Santos at the water cooler wouldn’t exactly help matters.

It had taken a huge amount of self-containment not to spill the beans about the fact that I knew exactly who my attackers had been. They weren’t random street thugs looking for cash, as I’d led the officers to believe — they were pawns in an organization far more deadly than any city gang. But I’d given my trust to Agent Gallagher and, for the time being, I’d have to leave my life in his hands. Getting the NYPD involved in an FBI investigation would only complicate matters. Not to mention the fact that these same officers possibly worked alongside Santos. The last thing I wanted to do was tip him off, if he wasn’t already aware of my trip to Labyrinth.

As soon as the police left, I called Ravi and made sure someone would come relieve Mrs. Patel of her duties for the day. My next call was to Conor.

“Gallagher,” he clipped, answering on the first ring.

“It’s me. Lux.”

“I got the pictures by email this morning. You didn’t need to follow up.” His voice was terse.

“It’s not about that.” I sighed. Fae was right — he really was grumpy all the time. “I had a visit this morning.”

“What?”

“Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal came to see me.”

“Who?”

“The brewery thugs.”

“I told you last night, their names are Peter Miller and Tim Walsh,” he said, a note of impatience creeping into his tone. “Ex-cons, both of them.”

“Conor, I don’t give a flying f*ck what their names are. I care that sixty minutes ago, they attacked me in broad daylight at a convenience store.”

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly. “They know about your trip to Labyrinth last night.”

I rolled my eyes and infused my voice with sarcasm. “You think?!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.” He sighed. “I’ll put eyes on you at all times and see how far we can push up the timetable. I have to check with my boss — and my boss’ boss. Fuck.”

“This is making me feel so much better,” I muttered.

“You’ll be fine. If you see a black sedan parked outside whatever building you’re in, don’t worry — it’s either me or one of my men. Don’t go to work. Go to your apartment, pack a bag. Move in with someone you trust — I’m sure Ms. Montgomery will let you crash with her.” Just the mention of Fae’s name added strain to his voice.

“You guys really don’t get along, huh?”

There was silence over the line. “Call me if anything else happens.”

He clicked off.

“Rude,” I mumbled, texting Fae SOS — our universal code for extraction from any kind of bad situation, reserved for only the direst of circumstances. The last time I’d used it, I’d been at a five star restaurant and my date had just plucked a hair from my head and used it as floss at the dinner table. One text and viola! Fifteen minutes later Fae was at the curb in Simon’s borrowed car, speeding me away as fast as the rust bucket could manage.

After texting her the Swagat address, I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked back to the counter to hang with Mrs. Patel. I hadn’t called Bash — I didn’t want his head to explode in the middle of a board meeting. And, anyway, I figured a few hours of keeping him in the dark wouldn’t change anything. I’d tell him later. Preferably when he had a large glass of liquor in hand or a convenient wall to punch. I was only keeping it quiet so he could have a normal day — he couldn’t possibly be mad at me for that.

Right?





***


Oops.

I was partially right. He wasn’t mad — he was pissed.

The first text arrived soon after I didn’t show up for work on time. Even after I messaged back that I was totally fine and assured him he had nothing to worry about, Bash was persistent. He called twice and I let it go to voicemail both times, feeling awful but hoping he’d eventually get caught up in work and forget about me for a few hours.

On his third call, I realized he had no plans to give up, so I bit the bullet and answered.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he yelled into the phone. “One week with you and my hair’s going to start turning gray with worry.”

“Sorry, Gramps.” I smiled. “I’m fine. I didn’t want to bug you at work. I know how much stress you’re under.”

“You not answering your phone does nothing to alleviate my stress, Freckles.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I figured it was the lesser of two evils.” I chewed on my bottom lip nervously.

He was silent. “What does that mean?” I could hear the tension in his tone.

“Promise you won’t freak out.”

“Lux.”

“Promise!”

“Fine, I promise. Tell me.”

I took a deep breath before launching into the story. I spit out the words as quickly as possible in hopes that if I talked at twice my normal rate he might not fully process everything I was saying. “I was at Swagat, that little convenience store I told you about, and I kind of got attacked by Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal.” I took a quick breath and hurried on. “But I bit Smash-Nose and bolted — so gross, but I had no choice — and then Mrs. Patel went totally badass and pulled out her Glock. She fired a warning shot and held it on them ‘till they ran away. It was actually pretty awesome.”