Half Life (Russell's Attic Book 2) (35 page)

Isabella took a breath. Shifted. Blinked at the ground. Then she said, “I know, Auntie. I do know that.”

Oh, Jesus. She had drunk the Kool-Aid.

I let my hand twitch closer to retrieving the Browning.

Then Isabella swallowed and looked back up at her aunt, and her eyes flashed fire again. “What if I marry him?”

“What?” yelped Checker.

“My dear—!” cried Mama Lorenzo.

“Honor would be satisfied, wouldn’t it?” challenged Isabella, ignoring her potential fiancé, whose face currently looked like a good impersonation of a blowfish. “It’s the old-school kind of thing. You can tell everyone he stepped up and is doing the honorable thing, that he truly loves me, blah blah blah—you can spin it, Auntie, I know you can. You satisfy the political crap, the family’s safe, you’re covered. And nobody has to die.”

“Isabella, don’t take this the wrong way, but—” started Checker.

“Oh, shut up, I don’t want to marry you either,” said Isabella. “What of it, Auntie, would it work?”

Mama Lorenzo drew herself up, resettling composure across her body like a cloak. She tilted her head at her niece. “You would do this. To protect him.”

“If it’s the only way to save the family from a total mess, then—yeah, I would. We can get an amicable divorce in a few years or something. It’s what you said a minute ago, right? It doesn’t matter what we want for ourselves.”

Mama Lorenzo took a slow breath. Then she turned toward Checker, who quailed under the weight of her scrutiny. “Young man, are you Catholic?”

“No,” Checker got out in a strangled voice.

“You have never been baptized?”

“He’s Jewish,” said Isabella.

Ethnically if not religiously, but Checker did not seem inclined to be pedantic. He licked his lips. “Would I—need to convert…?”

Mama Lorenzo shuddered. “Good heavens, no, it’s much better if you do not. Isabella marrying an unbaptized man would not be counted as a legitimate marriage in the Church, so could easily be considered null and void later on. An indiscretion of her youth.”

Checker was starting to look a little green.

“You would, of course, have to live together for appearances’ sake,” said Mama Lorenzo, her mouth pinching inward. “And young man, if I hear one word of you taking advantage of your position to pressure my niece into anything untoward—”

“Celibate marriage, I got it,” said Checker, so fast the words ran together.

Mama Lorenzo refocused on her niece. “Isabella, I do not think this a prudent sacrifice on your part. I am unsure of the wisdom of allowing it.”

“I have responsibilities to our family too, Auntie. You taught me that.”

“You cannot let this go?”

Isabella lifted her chin. “I cannot let you ruin a man’s life for the crime of being with me. You taught me about honor, too.”

Mama Lorenzo’s expression crumpled, half anguish and half fierce pride. “Oh, my child,” she said, holding out her arms. Isabella’s lip trembled, and this time she threw herself into her aunt’s embrace. They buried their faces against each other and didn’t let go.

Holy crap. It was over.

I couldn’t believe it was over.

The adrenaline rushed out of me, leaving my legs like jelly. I leaned one hip against a table to keep from falling over while I stuck the Browning back into my belt.

“So, we’re, uh, we’re doing this, then, huh?” Checker was shifting a lot in his chair, his expression twitching. He threw me a look I could only describe as begging for help.

I sidled up next to him, stepping around the still-embracing-slash-weeping aunt and niece. Now that we were in the clear, I thought it was more than my due to take the mickey out of him a bit. “I think you’re getting off easy,” I said,
sotto voce.
“Isabella seems like a nice girl.”

He grabbed at my sleeve. “I’ll be living with a college student,” he moaned. “College students throw parties. With frat boys. I hate frat boys. And I’ll be under the Mafia’s microscope, for years. I’ll be living with a wife I’m too afraid to flirt with and won’t be able to date anyone else because they’d kill me. For years! Help me!”

I thought this might be a fine time to reveal I’d almost bit the big one for his little screw-up at least three times now, but I didn’t have the heart. “She’s giving up a lot, too,” I pointed out instead. “It’s awfully nice of her to stick her neck out for you.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. I’ll buy her very expensive gifts on our anniversaries.”

“In all seriousness, you are getting off easy.”

“I know. I know.”

I stood with him and contemplated Mama Lorenzo and her niece for a moment. Something tickled the back of my brain, the germ of a thought—she might not go for it, but maybe it was worth asking? And a different conclusion here would make both Checker and Isabella—and, by extension, Mama Lorenzo—a lot happier about the way this turned out…

“As a matter of fact,” I said to Checker. “I might have another idea.”

He sat up spastically, grabbing at my arm again. “Seriously, I will owe you forever if you—”

I shook him off. “You
already
owe me forever. Just think about who you’re sleeping with next time, okay?”

“I promise, seriously, lesson learned, I’m already a better person.”

“Madame Lorenzo,” I called. “It’s possible I have a preferable solution.”

C
HAPTER 33

I
STOOD
on Mama Lorenzo’s right hand in a room at her estate, slightly behind her. She’d changed into a very severe black dress, its harsh lines emphasizing the angles of her body, and wore her usual stiletto heels, meaning my eye line was at the back of her upper arm. It didn’t matter: the men in the room still shifted and avoided making eye contact with me. I’d achieved the status of a legend.

The sniper was the only one to glance at me, the ghost of a grin twitching his lips. He lounged on the arm of a chair, an ice pack held to his head where I’d kicked him. I’d learned his name was Malcolm; once Mama Lorenzo had pulled away from comforting her niece, she’d been quite concerned with making sure he was all right.

I was glad I hadn’t killed him. This wouldn’t really have worked if I had.

Mama Lorenzo clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing the carpet, her heels making no sound in its richness. Every eye followed her. “Gentlemen. I believe most of you have met Cas Russell.”

Feet shuffled. I saw several frowns of confusion, but no whispering. No one would disrespect Mama Lorenzo that way.

“To those of you who have always been loyal to me, I apologize for the deception. Miss Russell has been helping me run a test. Distasteful, but it had to be done.” She stopped pacing, lifting her head to look down at them. “Those of you who have always been one hundred percent loyal to this family may leave the room at this time.”

Malcolm stood lazily and went to let himself out. Another man, one I hadn’t seen before, paused for a breath, glanced at his brethren, and then followed.

A small smile touched Mama Lorenzo’s mouth. “Telling.”

“It’s not that we…” started one of the men who had remained, wetting his lips. “We’re loyal. All of us. You gotta believe us.”

I recognized him. He was the overweight man with the greasy hair from Grealy’s. He’d told me a whole hell of a lot. Which I had in turn told Mama Lorenzo.

“If your loyalty is as you claim, then find the door,” said Mama Lorenzo, her voice as unthreatening as a knife against a whetstone.

The man shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know what she’s told you—”

“A wise choice, Mr. Paretti. If you had tried to exit you would already be dead.”

The room went silent. I picked Weasel Face out of the crowd too, and the young guy who’d been with them, the one who’d reminded me of Benito. And, of course, Benito himself, whose eyes were darting in panic and who looked like he was about to break and start running any minute now. Probably a lot of the other people here were some of the ones who had been fingered in the Grealy’s trio’s little confessional to me as working against the Family, or implicated by their SIM cards, or men I hadn’t had anything on but who simply didn’t know if or how their guilt might have been ferreted out.

“I have seen into your souls,” said Mama Lorenzo. “I know your desires. You all love this family. But that love must come before anything. Before everything. The Family will always protect you. And you must always protect it.”

Silence.

“Miss Russell,” Mama Lorenzo said without looking at me, “I thank you for your services to my family. I am sure we shall speak again.”

I recognized a dismissal when I heard one. I nodded at the room in what I hoped was an authoritative sort of way and pushed out the door. Behind me, Mama Lorenzo’s clear contralto started to address her people again.

I found my way through the maze of an estate, out the front door, and up the curving driveway to the gate. Malcolm was leaning against the stonework next to it, dragging on a cigarette.

“Smoke?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” I stood for a minute. I felt like I should say something to him, but “You were the competent one of the bunch, sorry for kicking you in the head except not really because you were trying to kill me” seemed a touch too silly.

“Mighty fine spinner, the Madre,” he murmured.

I squinted at him. He’d been unconscious when I’d first broached the idea for this plan, and when Mama Lorenzo and I had hashed out the details back at the estate, he hadn’t been in the room. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” He flashed me a quick smile and took another long drag, blowing the smoke into the sky.

“You don’t believe she was running a loyalty test?” I tried to keep my tone indifferent.

“I know how the Family works,” he said, with an enigmatic smile.

I gave up on trying to get a straight answer out of him. “Is there going to be a lot of carnage from this?”

“Nah. They’re all family. Family gets second chances with the Madre. Not thirds, though—it’s what makes her so good.” He took one last drag and stubbed out his cigarette on the stonework behind him. Then he pushed off the wall and looked down at me. “I owe you. I’d prefer to clear the debt sooner rather than later.”

“What?” I said, startled. “I kick your ass twice, and you owe me? How does that work?”

“You didn’t kill me,” he said. “If some future circumstance puts us on opposite sides, I’ll want the ledger to be even.”

“Oh, come on, not killing you wasn’t—I’ve got this friend who—and I’d had a really bad—” I gave up. “You don’t owe me.”

“Unfortunately, you saying so doesn’t make it true.” He gave me a nod and started past me, heading back toward the house, then paused. “The Madre will feel the same, you realize. She may not tell you so, but if she caused you some insult—and what happened here leads me to believe she may feel she did—you will mistreat her greatly if you do not ask her some favor that evens the scales.”

“Wait,” I said. My head spun, and it wasn’t from all my recent injuries. “You’re saying that—she thinks she owes me a favor? And she’ll get mad at me if I don’t ask her for something?”

He lifted one shoulder slightly and let it fall. “The Madre does not often feel regret. When she does, it is in everyone’s best interests to make sure she does not feel it for long.”

“Ah—I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Thanks.”

He loped back toward the house, and I stared after him. Mama Lorenzo owed me a favor. I had no idea what to make of that.

Gravel crunched outside the gate, and Arthur pulled up. He must’ve talked to Checker, I thought, who had gone to drive Isabella back to her campus. Apparently Checker had scooped her up the instant she’d set foot back in LA, and had received Arthur’s frantic call just in time to draw the right conclusions and come save us all from a point of no return.

I hit the inside button to open the gate, and the iron bars slid slowly open to let me out. I left my stolen truck parked on the road and got into Arthur’s passenger seat. “How long have you been waiting?”

He grunted, guiding the car away and starting down the twisting slope.

“Are you mad?” I asked.

“What do you think? You go in there injured, you almost get yourself killed—if Checker wasn’t a phone-tracking genius who ran a zillion lights trying to get to you—”

“Hey, it’s him you should be angry at,” I protested. “This whole thing was his fault.”

“Can be mad at both of you at once,” Arthur retorted. “But Jesus and Mary, Russell, you could’ve talked to us. Told us what was happening. Maybe we could’ve gotten Isabella back here sooner or something. You got people who’ll help you.”

I supposed that once Checker had asked me to look into this, I hadn’t even told
him
much of anything about the escalating danger. I wasn’t used to having…people. “Sorry.”

“Turned out okay, luckily for you. And Checker.” He sighed. “You two gonna give me a heart attack someday. And speaking of, in the future you gotta tell me if Checker gets into any sort of trouble, okay? It’s important.”

I tried to get comfortable in the seat with my many, many bruises and the goddamn broken arm, which throbbed like—well, like I’d been shot. “I didn’t think it would go this far,” I admitted. “He asked me not to mention it, and I thought—”

“Just trust me on this one,” said Arthur. “Checker, he got a history. Sometimes he needs protecting. From himself.”

“He’s an adult,” I said. “You’re not his dad.”

Arthur twitched at my word choice. “Ain’t mean I can’t look out for him.”

He drove us back to Miri’s place. The day had lapsed into afternoon, and Denise, Pilar, and Checker were all busy on laptops.

“I want them out of LA by tomorrow,” I said, pointing at the two women. “What’s the word from Tegan?”

“Yeah, we’re not going,” said Pilar, not looking up.

“This isn’t a discussion,” I said.

“You’re right.” Her head popped up from her laptop. “It’s not. If they arrest me, I’d rather fight it here than run somewhere where I’d never be able to get back in touch with anyone ever again. My folks are too important to me, and—and we didn’t do anything wrong, either of us. Well, maybe I did a little bit wrong by talking to you and running that program for you at Arkacite, but we’re not the people responsible for everything else.”