39. Raleigh

CHAPTER 39

Raleigh

Maybe I should be surprised. But looking back on all the insane, half-cocked things I’ve done in my life, I’m really not.

Emma Clarke lets Derrick push her down into a kneeling position in front of me. Now that her bodyguards are dead and her identity is revealed, the fight’s gone out of her, but just in case. Derrick keeps a firm grip on her shoulder, and Iris stands on her other side, gun still in hand.

Needless to say, the surprise ruined our bloodlust. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I keep looking at the singed fabric on Derrick’s shoulder. He came so close to injury, and that makes me want to scream at this girl with all the air in my lungs.

But that won’t get me answers, which now I really, really want. And looking at the deadness in Emma’s gray eyes, I wonder if screaming is the least of what she expects now that she’s been found out.

It hurts to swallow down all my anger and fear, but I do. “So,” I say through my teeth. “Morgan Speare’s long lost son, huh?”

Emma bows her head, her tangled platinum hair falling over her eyes. “My dad was one of Morgan’s people,” she says, the feigned rasp that hid her feminine voice now gone. “A nobody, really. He died when the house went up in flames. It’s the most useful thing he’s ever done.”

Ha, that’s relatable. I purse my lips to fight an inappropriate smile. “It was all a bluff, then.”

“That’s right,” Emma bites out. “I figured being Morgan’s secret son would make me a better person to mobilize around than just some peon’s kid.”

“I’m guessing there was no boyfriend who stole your car, either.”

Emma shakes her head.

“And your obsession with killing Derrick was just…?”

“A call to arms,” Emma confirms. “There were plenty of people I already knew who wanted back at the ones who destroyed the Speare family. Not everyone died when the house burned down. But we’d be crushed in seconds if we tried to take on the Warwicks for revenge right off the rip. Going after the sheriff, though? It was an achievable goal that would appeal to a lot of people. Making it a matter of birthright and revenge and honor made it easier to dazzle people who weren’t even involved to get in on it.”

I look her over, from the roots of her messed-up hair to the tips of her boots. Which, now that I’m looking at them…

“Platform boots?” I ask.

Emma licks her lips and nods. “And heel inserts. And a binder, obviously.”

“Smart,” I can’t help but say. Derrick gives me a flat look, but I just shrug. I could’ve taken notes from this girl if I’d known what she was about sooner. Still. Her methods might have been impressive, but her short-sightedness was as bad as mine.

“The only problem is, once you kill the guy you’ve made your whole personality, the party’s over. The people you surrounded yourself with only had one goal- violence. You really think they wouldn’t turn that violence on you once you gave them the one thing you told them to want?” My eyes roll up to the ceiling. “Fuck, you never had a hold on them to begin with, let’s be real. You left the room for two minutes and your goons immediately started doing whatever they wanted with their hostages without one word to you. Who’s to say they haven’t been pulling shit like that behind your back this entire time?! They never actually respected you, they just appreciated that you gave them an outlet for their sickest desires.”

And just to rub that in, I add, “I’m pregnant, by the way. No thanks to you. Thanks to you.” I shrug. “Whatever.”

Emma’s face goes pale as a sheet, then so green I half expect her to puke right on my shoes. “I… I never wanted-”

“Yeah, clearly,” I cut in, remembering how upset she seemed when she came into the room to find Derrick and I against the wall. “Doesn’t change what ended up happening because of you , now does it?”

Emma lowers her head and shakes it slowly, as if trying to rid herself of this knew knowledge. “I’ve been putting my mark on every store in the area. I’ve been collecting tithes for three months. As soon as shit started to hit the fan, I’d take that money, hop on a plane, and make a new life for myself.”

Well now. Doesn’t that sound familiar…

But she’s just now starting to realize that even if she ran, she could never run fast enough to escape her own demons.

Derrick is watching me now, not Emma. I can feel his blue eyes looking into me, through me, and I don’t try to hide anything from him.

I see myself in this girl. It’s impossible to deny. She had no love for her father. Probably grew up feeling as helpless and useless as I did, but with a fraction of the money. At the first chance she got, she tried to build a life for herself based on lies, and haven’t I made a personality for myself built on the same? We’re both performers, even if our roles are different, but in the end, it was all in the service of finding an escape route. And that escape route?

Get a ticket for the first flight out of the country, and run , leaving the world burning behind us.

I meet Derrick’s eyes. I came here to prove myself, and in a way, so did he. But killing Emma Clarke while she’s on her knees in front of us suddenly doesn’t feel like it would fulfill that desire at all. I might as well shoot myself.

“Look,” Emma says suddenly. “Whatever you’re going to do? Just do it. I’m not afraid to die. And that’s not me just saying that to act tough. I’m just- I’m telling you I’m not going to beg for my life, and I’m not going to tell you I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t believe in excuses. I’ve done a bunch of shitty stuff, and I couldn’t get away with it. So just… do what you want. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, but as annoying as excuses are,” I agree, “essentially telling me you don’t give a fuck if I kill you is pretty annoying too. You could, I dunno, make me a nice, heartfelt apology, and we could go from there.”

Emma looks up for the first time, blonde brows knit incredulously. “If you’re gonna fuck with me-”

“I’m not fucking with you.” I look to Derrick again, and he gives me a single nod. “I’m giving you another chance. As someone… as someone who’s needed one or two of them herself.” I hold up my index finger. “Oh, but I do get one free hit in.”

Emma stares at me, her gray eyes so wide I can see the whites around them. Her gaze darts to Iris, then to Derrick. She’s surrounded by people she’s wronged or who have been prepared to wrong her. The truth is, I don’t know the half of what this girl’s done to get where she is.

But I know what I’ve done. And I know what Derrick’s done. And if we can move past those things and put our lives and futures in each other’s hands, then maybe Emma Clarke also deserves a hand outstretched instead of a fist.

For a moment, I see in her eyes that she’s ready to tell me to kill her, instead of taking the chance I’m offering. But then her lips press together, and her eyes squeeze shut. I hold my breath until she opens them again.

“I-I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. And…” She looks up at Derrick. “And trying to kill you. It was just business.”

“I believe everyone in this room is familiar with killing just for business,” Derrick says dryly.

“Yeah, well,” Emma says, “I imagine it feels a little different when you’re the one being killed.”

The corner of Derrick’s mouth quirks in a smile.

“Apology accepted,” I say magnanimously. “You’re hired.”

“ What?! ” Iris and Emma say at once.

“What else are you gonna do?” I ask Emma. “Got enough for that plane ticket yet? And after you landed in Sydney or Tokyo or Zimbabwe, what were you going to do? Your fake dad’s name wasn’t going to take you that far.”

Emma’s mouth is hanging all the way open. “You- you’d really hire me to work for you? But I was part of the Speare family!”

“Not sure what rock you’ve been living under, but my brother married Morgan Speare’s niece and now they’re having a baby. That ship has sailed .”

Emma shakes her head. “This has to be some kind of trick-”

“Believe it’s a trick or don’t, I don’t care,” I tell her frankly. “But whatever you believe, make your choice. Either you die here, or you come work for the Warwicks.”

Iris’s grimace has smoothed into a thoughtful frown as she observes Emma. Derrick only has eyes for me. I desperately want to ask if he thinks I’m being too naive, but even as I meet his gaze, he’s giving me his dimpled, crooked smile.

“All right,” Emma finally says, sounding like she’s signing her own death warrant instead of collecting her get-out-of-jail-free card. “I’ll work for you.”

“Good,” I say, grinning down at her. “It would’ve sucked if I had to kill you after I just started to like you.”

Before I can rethink it, or she can brace herself and maybe get hurt more, I sock her right in the face. Emma’s head whips to the side, and Iris shifts in my peripherals, as if preparing to fire if she retaliates.

But when Emma looks back at me, her bloody lip is quirked in a cautious smile. “That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing last time we were here.”

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” Iris sighs, rubbing her temples like she’s getting a headache just standing here. “It’s going to be hard enough explaining another stray to Thomas. Do me a favor, kid?” she asks Emma. “Watch your mouth, just until he gets used to you.”

Emma nods quickly, wiping the blood off the corner of her mouth, and Derrick helps her to her feet. She looks a little shell-shocked when she stands face to face with me, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I- I never would have imagined…”

“Well, in a fucked up kind of way your shitty vetting skills are responsible for reuniting me with the guy I’m going to marry,” I tell her breezily. Over her shoulder, Derrick breaks into a grin. “That’s the only reason I didn’t hit you harder. Consider us even now.”