“You’re not going inside, Marisol.” Assail looked away to the blacked-out window and measured the dim reflection of her in it. “And I’ll be fine.”

Actually, he didn’t care one way or the other what happened to him. But at least Vishous would keep her safe. That was the important thing.

That was all Assail cared about.

“Let us proceed to my house,” he said, “so that we may collect her things. And then let’s go to the warehouse and get this over with.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

As Sola came up from the basement with her grandmother’s suitcase in one hand and her own duffel over her shoulder, she took a last look around Assail’s kitchen. There was a stainless-steel saucepan that her vovó had used sitting on the stove. The thing was perfectly clean, and the lone standout in the otherwise tidy, put-it-all-away neatness.

Almost as if the thing had been left out as a shrine, and not just to the food.

Ehric and Evale, and that young man—male—were nowhere to be found, and she had a feeling that Assail had told them to go.

She missed them. She wanted…to say goodbye to them.

In such a short time, the six of them had formed a little family unit, a ragtag bunch of unrelateds who had bonded in quick order. And as she thought about them living here together under this roof, the strangest sensation hit her in the chest. She didn’t want to acknowledge what it was. She really didn’t.

But this felt like…home.

“May I help you with your things?” Assail asked politely.

“No.” She looked back at him. “Thank you. I’ve got them.”

“As you wish.” He bowed solemnly. “We will leave your car at a secure place downtown so that you may retrieve it. And worry not. Our staff can go out during the day even though we cannot. So you may depart at dawn, should you wish to.”

“All right.” Unease rippled through her, but she hiked her duffel higher on her shoulder and shoved the anxiety away. “I guess we go?”

“Yes.”

At that moment, Vishous came in from the front of the house. “I gotta give you credit, Assail. You got good toys, true?” Without warning, he tossed something at her. “I think the lady’ll like this one.”

She caught the gun by the grip and brought it up for a look-see. It was a very nice S&W, actually. Nine millimeter.

“If you want a holster—”

She interrupted Vishous. “I have one in my bag.”

“Good deal.”

As Assail took no weapons and was given nothing, she assumed he had armed himself. And yet she hesitated. She wanted him to have a rocket launcher on his back. Bulletproof everything. A crash helmet.

“We gonna do this or what?” Vishous said sharply.

“Let’s go.” Sola headed for the door. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

The men—males—fell in behind her, and she heard Vishous ask if Assail was going to ride with her.

Before she could answer, he replied, “I believe she would rather be alone. Thank you.”

Getting into her cold car, she wasn’t so sure of that. Which was a surprise. But it was so emotional, this idea that she really was leaving here. Leaving him. Leaving this whole strange episode in her life—

Okay, she totally needed to let all that go.

The engine was slow to crank over, and the heater started blowing an arctic blast at her feet, so she cut the fan off quick. As she plugged in her seatbelt, she looked over her shoulder at the glass house and remembered coming here for the first time on her skis. She had hidden in and among the trees and tried to get a bead on what was doing inside. And that was when she had noticed the illusion drapes—the furnace coming on inside had ruffled them ever so slightly, causing a disturbance in that which should have been static.

Little could she have guessed what pulling them back would reveal.

Snapping herself to attention, she put the engine in gear and fell in line behind the Mercedes, leaving the house and the peninsula in her wake.

As she took a left to get onto the bridge, she told herself to take a good look at the glowing cityscape up ahead. She had always loved this view at night, the skyscrapers so majestic, their random lights like stars in a fallen sky—and then down below, the river’s dark and slow mystery.

She was never coming back to Caldwell.

And God, even though it made no sense, she wanted to cry.

Refocusing once again, she stuck on the Mercedes’s tail. They had agreed to leave her car in an open-air lot that Vishous had a pass card to, and as they came up on it, something started to ring in her mind. A warning. A…

Shaking her head, she pulled up to the gate and realized she hadn’t gotten the card. Before she could put her window down, Assail was on it, coming over and swiping things so that the arm lifted up.

It was as she took a spot right in front that the math added up, and she all but leapt out from behind the wheel without putting things in park.

“Benloise has a sister,” she said urgently. “Vitoria.”

Assail shrugged. “I did not know that.”

“You can’t go into that meeting alone. She could be coming for you.”

“I don’t know if she’s who I’m meeting. And besides, why would it matter—”

“You killed Ricardo.” Sola stared him straight in the eye. “I know you did. I never asked you, but I know you did. And Eduardo, too. Didn’t you. Didn’t you.”

* * *

—

Assail really wanted to get Marisol back into the Mercedes. He didn’t like how exposed they were, and he also wanted to cut off this conversation. But clearly, his female was not budging until they were finished with this subject.

Not that she was his female.

“Marisol”—he indicated the nice, warm, fucking bulletproof Mercedes—“perhaps we may continue this discussion in a more suitable environment?”

“What if she knows. What if she’s calling to set you up?”

“Then I will defend myself. Let us get in the car—”

“There are security cameras at the gallery. At the West Point house—”

“We were careful with the latter,” he muttered.

“So that’s where you killed him? Or was it at the gallery.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I told you, the address you’re going to is Benloise’s warehouse. I worked for him. I know what he owns. Why are you meeting the supplier on his property if the man is dead?”

“Because that is what I’ve been instructed to do—”

“You can’t go in there—”

“Enough,” he cut in sharply. “This is not your concern, Marisol. Now get in the goddamn car before we’re spotted by lessers. You may be human and of no interest to them, but they will sense me and I do not want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to let you get yourself killed.”

But at least she was moving as she muttered this, getting her things out from the back of her car and walking them over to the popped trunk of the Mercedes. And as she put the suitcase and the duffel in, she was speaking in a barrage of Spanish—but he didn’t care if she was cursing every bone in his body as long as she gotinthefuckingsedan.

When they were finally back in the back, so to speak, she didn’t turn to him. She pulled herself forward using one of the headrests in front.

“He’s going to die,” she announced to Vishous. “She’s going to kill him.”

“Your grandmother?” the Brother said. “I’ve heard about her—and yeah, I can feel that. Even if she’s in a hospital bed—”

“This is a setup—”

“Marisol,” Assail interrupted, “there is no way, even if this is Benloise’s sister, that she will know it is me. No way. This is a business interaction through proper channels—and besides, even if it is his sister, she will not be of his nature. She’s a female, after all—”

The glare that swung around to him was enough to make him consider cupping his sex in protection.

“Do I look weak to you.” It was not a question. “Do I look like I can’t handle my shit to you.”