Crow’s Row (44 page)

I wasn’t threatened by Pops, but that didn’t mean I wanted to gossip with him about my relationship with Cameron—even if I had understood anything about our relationship.

“What’s in those plastic bags?” I garishly blurted out again.

Pops didn’t draw back at my insolence. “What do you think is in them?” he asked with amusement. He hadn’t been fooled by my pretend ignorance.

“Drugs?” I said, taking another glance at the plastic bags of multicolored pills and powders.

He neither confirmed nor denied. “What do you think about that?”

I’m fine with it
, seemed like the appropriate response. The truth was that, as much as I loved Cameron, what he did for a living did bother me. It didn’t lessen my love for him in any way. I had been able to tuck this small disturbance in a locked compartment inside my head. But I found myself unable to lie to this complete stranger.

“It just seems awful to think that these drugs might end up in the hands of kids,” I tried to put nicely.

“I don’t sell to kids,” he quickly replied, his brow furrowing.

“But you can’t control what happens to … the product once it leaves here,” I said apologetically. “I mean, at some point, some street thug will try to push drugs on kids.”

Pops crossed his arms over his belly and crossed one leg over the other. “Kids don’t decide to start taking drugs because of some pusher they don’t know on the street. They’re convinced through peer pressure, through family and friends. You know, children are more likely to start by looking through their parents’ medicine cabinet for drugs that won’t cost them anything.”

It sounded a little rehearsed. I quickly realized that Pops was looking for a sparring partner on the topic. I didn’t know if I could deliver. I wished that I had paid better attention in my high school political-science class when the issue would have probably been debated.

“Yes, but drugs lead to violence,” I argued.

“Violence in the media has been the leading cause of violence. Illegal drugs might cause bad people to do bad things, but so do alcohol and licit drugs,” the old man argued back.

“But drugs do increase crime.” I had no idea if they did, but it definitely sounded good.

“Most of the drug crimes relate to the sale of drugs. If selling drugs wasn’t illegal, then you would free up the court system and jails.”

Pops waited with delight for my next claim.

I searched for something, anything. “Drugs are just really bad for you. People can die if they take drugs.”

“People do all kinds of things that are bad for them, like eating fast food and smoking,” he said with satisfaction. “You know heart disease is the leading cause of death in America. More people die from fast food and cigarettes than they do from anything else.”

Cameron and Hawk looked like they were about to come to fisticuffs. Whatever Cameron said had set Hawk on another vulgar dissertation, and both were angrily facing off. I looked at Pops for his intervention, but he just smiled at me.

“My son has a hot temper,” he explained. “He doesn’t trust the crows. Though … I think his opinion may change about this one after today.” He winked at me and then he glanced back at the businessmen and got up. “I’m afraid there isn’t much that I will be able to do with the one they call Spider. There’s something false about that boy.”

Pops made his way to the barking men and calmly put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Give him what he wants, Hawk,” he ordered in English.

Hawk was incredulous. “What? Why would I do that?”

“Because I said so,” Pops answered with authority.

Cameron was just as surprised as his sparring partner, but took advantage.

“And the plants?” he asked Pops, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

“Only the best ones.”

Cameron and Hawk stood there. I imagined that their jaws would be agape, if they had been like normal people. Everyone in the grotto had gone silent at this development. All I could hear was the swishing of the stream’s current.

Pops broke the tension and turned to Cameron. “If there is nothing else, then I suggest you take this young girl home. I’m afraid I have taken enough of her time, and she will soon grow tired of me.”

Arm in arm, Pops and I made our way back through the underground maze, with Cameron and Hawk now quietly, reflectively in tow. I could feel Cameron’s eyes hammering into me. We walked through the stinky greenhouse, and I permitted myself to make a casual comment.

“Your electricity bills must be insane,” I said, surreptitiously eying the torrent of fluorescent sunlight substitutes.

Pops caught my meaning. “Hidden solar panels on the surface,” he clarified with a warm grin.

We left Hawk and Pops at the elevator doors, but not before Pops whispered in my ear, “I hope we will see you again, young Emily.”

I didn’t look at Cameron’s face as we stood in the elevator. I already knew that I was in really big trouble. We headed back where we had come from and met Griff at the top of the barn stairs.

“Have a good day, sir. And madam,” Griff added with emphasis, bowing with a grin on his face.

Cameron walked at a quicker pace, his shoulders tense and erect. I figured that I couldn’t get in much more trouble than I already was. I genially grinned back at Griff before sprinting to meet up with Cameron at the motorcycle. He handed me my helmet without looking at me. I snuggled in behind him on the bike, but the trick didn’t work its magic this time. He remained on edge as we sped off in a cloud of dust.

 Chapter Twenty-Five:
 Broken

We rode without a word, and I was conflicted: distressed that Cameron was angry with me; yet happy—even a little smug—that I had pulled off my first business meeting with distributors without getting us killed.

We pulled into a small parking lot where a stationed school bus had been converted into a fast-food stand. It was mid-afternoon. I was starving. The smell of greasy fries was the best thing I had ever smelled by that point. Cameron barely looked at me while we waited in line. The extent of our conversation was limited to “What do you want to eat” and “Veggie burger with extra fries.” Cameron asked for mayo for my fries. I didn’t need to say anything.

I followed him around the back of the converted bus through a band of trees. I could hear crashing water as we neared the end of the trail. Fifty feet above ground, a waterfall plunged in an almost perfect line down the face of the rock and into a gurgling bath of water. People, sporadically spread about the trees and grass, picnicked and took in the breathtaking scene. Cameron dug a blanket out of the backpack and spread it on a tiny patch of grass as if he had been there before. We were mostly hidden in the brush.

While he ate and brooded, I threw my helmet-hair back into its cozy ponytail. This caused Cameron to smile, which he tried to hide from me. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, I had done to make him angry. There was no doubt in my mind that nothing about the meeting had gone according to his plans, and that I didn’t do anything that I was supposed to do—like stay quiet.

With a bit of food in my belly and Cameron’s mood seemingly bettered, I figured I would get it over with, whatever was bugging him.

“You’re angry with me.” I was really good at stating the obvious.

“Uh-huh.” Cameron was lying on his back with his legs crossed one over the other.

Apparently I was supposed to guess what I had done wrong—which I wanted to do as much as a serial killer wished to confess every crime he had ever committed to the rookie cop who had just stopped him because of a broken taillight.

“Can you tell me why?” I asked.

“Things could have gone really wrong in there.”

“But they didn’t,” I replied.

“They
could
have,” he reiterated, with emphasis. “I had no idea what was going on.”

“Welcome to my world,” I mumbled, spearing my straw though the plastic lid of my cup.

Cameron half-smiled. “Emmy, when I don’t know what’s going on and can’t understand what you’re saying, I can’t react.”

“You don’t have any faith in me.”

“It has nothing to do with my faith in you and everything to do with my mistrust of them. These people aren’t angels. This isn’t a game. As far as I knew, the old man was threatening to put a knife at your throat as soon as I wasn’t looking.”

“He never threatened me.”

“I had no way of knowing that,” he griped.

“Considering the circumstances, I think I made the right decision.” I was convinced of this.

Cameron exaggeratingly rolled his eyes at my cockiness. “I should have known that you’d be able to charm yourself out of trouble. Must be in your genes.”

I wasn’t sure if he’d meant that I had charmed myself out of trouble with the distributors or with him. It didn’t matter in the end. I had taken his change in demeanor as a signal that I was on my way to being forgiven. I decided to swoop in for the kill and snuggled up against him. He didn’t recoil.

“I got you everything you wanted, didn’t I?” I said with a sigh.

“Yes, Emmy,” he conceded, also with a sigh. “You made me a lot of money today. But it’s just money. I would have preferred it much more if you would have stayed out of their grasp.”

Something moved within the trees. Cameron abruptly pushed me off and sprang up. An old lady strolled by, shakily leaning on her cane. She was about ninety years old and maybe eighty pounds soaking wet.

“Sorry,” Cameron said awkwardly to me. He laid back down on the blanket. If I hadn’t been aware of his paranoia, I would have been insulted by his fear of being seen in public with me.

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at Cameron.

“What’s going to happen when things settle down?” I wondered.

“What do you mean?”

“What happens to me when the danger is gone?”

“You go home,” he said instinctively. He hadn’t changed his mind, after everything.

I tried to keep it cool. “And then what?”

“And then nothing. You go back and live happily ever after,” he said, refusing to look at me.

“What about us?” My voice was shaking.

Cameron was silent.

“I could just stay with you,” I offered.

He laughed, but his tone was tight. “Em, you get yourself in more trouble when you’re bored. Do you really think you could just stay home and wait around for me while I go to work? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice fantasy, but we already tried that, and it didn’t work.”

I was flustered. “I could go to work with you. Turns out I’m pretty good at it. You said so yourself.”

“Absolutely not! I won’t allow it.”

“Why not?” I exclaimed with unnecessary whininess. “Carly does it.”

“Carly can’t do anything else. You …” He took a breath to calm himself and his voice. “You have a life, school, a family, friends. And you would be much more at risk than Carly because of my position.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I grumbled.

“Well, I’m not willing to take any chances. Not with you.” His voice was icy. “Besides, it’s not just up to me. You become a risk to the whole organization if you get caught by rivals. The leaders would have our heads before they let any of that happen.”

“So promise them that you won’t do anything if something does happen to me. That you’ll let me die if I’m dense enough to get caught.”

Cameron stared at me vacantly. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Don’t ever say that again.” He briskly stood and started packing everything up. “We need to go before it starts getting dark.”

I did what I was told and struggled to keep up with him as he stomped back to the bike.

It started raining about one hour left into our trip home. By the time we drove up the gravel driveway, it was dark, we were soaked, and Meatball was anxiously waiting by the cottage door, waiting to get out of the rain. Cameron immediately got a fire burning in the cast-iron stove while he was on his cell phone, dictating numbers to Spider. He smiled at me on occasion, particularly when he repeated the day’s purchase prices to a flabbergasted Spider. He was keeping busy, throwing paperwork into the fire as he went through them one-by-one with Spider and making supper for the both of us while he replayed the day’s events over the phone. He stayed on the phone the whole time we were eating, talking about what I assumed to be business, though I didn’t understand any of it. Eventually his phone died, and he had to reluctantly hang up. He insisted that I sit, or even better, go to bed, while he did the dishes.

I didn’t want to believe it. But while I continued to watch him, while he tried his best to pretend that everything was okay, something was creeping inside of me. A remembrance of my former life—the one that I could never go back to. I was aware of the sharp stab in my heart, like the stitches on an old wound were coming undone.

Things inside me were shattering, falling to pieces. It was the look on his face that gave him away.

I had seen it played out in front of me a thousand times. It was the look that my brother had given me the last time I saw him. It was my mother’s pressed smile on the day she had come for a surprise visit in Callister, right before she came up with a lame excuse as to why she needed to leave, quickly. It was the avoidance of eye contact that the inconsequential boys had when they were getting annoyed with my lack of affection … Cameron was getting ready to leave me. I wanted to latch onto him, hard, so that we would never be separated. At the same time, I wanted to run away, so that perhaps I wouldn’t feel the pain when he found a way to let me go.