“Trey will age up the picture I found, and we’ll hope like hell we’re looking for the other kid in it. There’s a good chance the guy we’re chasing is a ghost too, though. Ortiz was erased, and well. It stands to reason his family—if that’s who the other kid is in the picture—might’ve been too.”
Mount sips his whiskey and studies me. “If he’s been erased, then there’s a reason why. He has enemies who want him dead. That may be something we can use.”
I stare down at my whiskey, my ego wanting to jump in and remind him that no one touches this motherfucker but me. I want to kill him myself—with my bare hands—for what he’s done to Magnolia and her life. But it doesn’t matter.
At the end of the day, I just want the motherfucker dead. I want her free of the fear that’s dogging her. I want to make all the bad in her world disappear. Guess it’s a damn good thing I’m the best at making people vanish into thin air.
“Whatever it takes,” I tell the man across from me. “I want him ended.”
Mount leans back in his chair. “I was surprised when you came here and declared your intentions. Fifteen years is a long time to be away and then try to come back and make something work. But it seems like you’re not having any trouble on that front, despite my slight, and quite necessary, interference.”
A half laugh slips past the smoky flavor on my lips. “Yeah, you really tried to fuck that up for me. Thanks.”
One corner of his sly mouth turns up. “Magnolia’s important to my wife. I decided truth was important for her too. You seem to have overcome the obstacle just fine.”
I could strangle the man for what he did and how he did it, but he’s right—I am glad it’s out in the open now. Glad I don’t have anything more to hide from her.
“It hasn’t all been smooth, but we have an understanding now. She knows I’m back for her, and I’m not fucking around.”
“What are your plans after we get this matter settled?”
The way Mount refers to the man who has been terrorizing Magnolia makes it sound like he’s decided it’ll be handled with little to no effort. I hope like hell he’s right. His question, though ... he’s fishing for information, and I’m not ready to give it to him. Mount turns information into a weapon, and he doesn’t need any more to use against me.
“I’ll be talking to Magnolia about those plans when the time is right. I’m sure you’ll hear about them one way or another.”
Mount’s brows lift, and a curious stare sharpens on me. “You’re suddenly less forthcoming with your information.”
“There are some things even the all-powerful Lachlan Mount doesn’t need to know first.”
He sips his whiskey, studying me. “You’ve come a long way from the Biloxi gangster who pulled a job in my town without my permission. I have to say, Moses, I’m impressed, and that doesn’t happen often. Your business is a strong one, a necessary service in the world you and I live in. Are you planning to continue operating after this is all settled?”
I think about the reputation I’ve built and the clients who get referred to me, needing help. Then there’s Magnolia. I don’t want her to live a nomadic life that she didn’t choose for herself—if it’s not what she wants.
“I don’t know yet. That will be another discussion between me and Mags. I can give her whatever life she wants, and I’ll let her choose.”
Mount swirls the whiskey in his glass. “I approve. Although, selfishly, I hope you stay in business. You never know when someone will need a skill set like yours. Let’s just hope you don’t need to use it for yourself and Magnolia by the time this is all over.”
I hear what he’s saying, but then again, after what Magnolia and I have both been through in our lives, disappearing together doesn’t sound like a bad plan at all.
Seventeen
Magnolia
It’s not the first time I’ve watched Keira put Rory to bed, but just like the others, I’m struck by how badly I want to have that.
How the hell are you going to know what to do with a baby?Ho-It-All picks the worst times to show up and ask hard questions, and she also knows how to go for the jugular.
Keira steps away from the crib and comes toward me, standing near the doorway to Rory’s room. She grins and tiptoes, motioning for me to step into the connecting parlor with her. She closes the door noiselessly and waits while holding her breath. When she hears only silence, she grins.
“Thank God. I swear the girl hates sleep. She always wants to be awake and busy—especially if her daddy is anywhere near.”
With my insecurities riding high, I ask my friend, “Did you ever worry you wouldn’t know what to do with a kid? That you wouldn’t know how to be a mom?”
Keira’s attention cuts to my face, and although she can’t read what she sees there, her expression softens. “Come on, let’s sit down. I’ll tell you all about how terrified I was that I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a baby, and how worried I still get about screwing her up for life.”
She leads me to a pair of gold club chairs set up in front of an ancient fireplace that is more likely to spin around into a secret passage than to ever hold a fire in its grate.
Skeptically, I ask, “You’re really worried about not knowing what to do with her? But you ... you had, like, the perfect childhood. Great parents. Everything.”