Codename: Claymore by Anderson SE

Author:Anderson, SE
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

15

Memories wreak havoc on my calm as I drive back home. I see it over and over again in my mind. I think about Da trying to stop me and how I pushed him to the ground.

I never came back that night.

I never helped him up.

Never said goodbye.

I just… left. Alone.

Now I’m back, and he’s walking with a cane. Now I’m back, and he’s still trying to put himself between me and MacGinty.

I never should’ve returned, and I certainly never should’ve let Marko come along.

Give my regards to that tart of yours.

I tried to mask his identity, when I really should have just put him on a plane and sent him back to Russia, where he'd be safe.

How could I be so stupid to bring him to Stirling?

The breaks screech as I park at the curb in front of the house. I know there are likely eyes on me here, just as they were back at MacGinty's, so I keep my cool as I head inside.

“Marko?” I holler as I enter. "You here?"

No answer. The front room is dark, the place silent except the sound a clock ticking.

“Marko?” I yell again, heading upstairs to my bedroom.

“Gani?” Maw calls out from the hall.

I don’t answer her, too distracted moving sheets and looking for the Russian idiot who slept here last night. He’s not in Phillip’s bed, nor is he sitting at my old desk. I turn to my bed, my heart damn near leaping out of my chest. It’s only a second, and it’s gone when I blink, but I imagine him on the floor where I found Roger on my eighteenth birthday.

My head is playing tricks on me, a hint of fear creeping through my insides.

He’s not there. He’s not dead.

Wherever he is, he's fine.

“Gani, love,” Maw says, closer this time. She lays a hand on my arm. “What is it?”

How do I explain it to her? How much of this shit does she really know? I've never talked to her about anything to do with MacGinty. I doubt Da ever has, either. But she’s not daft, nor is she blind. She has to know we’ve done terrible things, the kind of things that can come back to haunt us. The kind of things that get innocent people killed.

“I have to go,” I say.

“Go? Gani, look at me.”

I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off the spot on the floor—the spot where she cleaned up my grandda’s spilled blood ages before I scrubbed away Roger’s.

“I shouldn’t have come back," I tell her. "It’s not right. And Marko—”

“He’s not here.”

Now I look at her. I bore bloody holes into her skull with the laser-focus of my eyes. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I awoke an hour ago to find all three of my men gone. Figured you were giving him the tour of town.”

The tour of town?

What the bloody hell would that include? Here’s the place where I learned how to shag… oh, and don’t miss the spot where I stabbed

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