Damage: A Ghost Squad Novel by Lilith Saintcrow

Author:Lilith Saintcrow [Saintcrow, Lilith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ImaJinn Books
Published: 2021-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

Disturbing

EMILIA HADN’T LEFT any more of those meal-prep Tupperwares, but Cara was a handy cook. She could even flip an omelette, a skill Vince had never been able to acquire. She also stood up well under the pressure, calmer than a lot of civilians after a snatch attempt. She settled on the floor of the playroom with Eddie and a roll of wrapping paper after dinner, patiently teaching him how to fold and tape as if nothing in the world was wrong. The result looked pretty professional, except for the kid’s loop-scrawled, handmade card.

Looked like Eduardo loved his dad. Well, Vince had loved his too, the violent asshole. It was as natural as sunrise, and as deadly as friendly fire.

Cara’s brittle cheerfulness lasted all through the routine of getting the kid fed and into bed, and little Eddie took his cues from her. If he truly understood what had almost happened in the parking lot, he gave no sign. It would have been nice to be six and oblivious again, Vincent thought, especially since the kid could throw his arms around Cara and put his face in her throat, breathing her in.

They warned you about high emotion causing attachment when you were looking after a package, and there were strategies to minimize that risk. Once it happened, your effectiveness went down in some areas.

But Vince found himself thinking it probably went up in others.

Sparky might’ve agreed. It would have been nice to hear his old teacher’s voice again, and that was a sure sign Vince’s head wasn’t clear enough to handle whatever was going on.

Finally, Cara closed the playroom door and stepped into the hall, rubbing at her temple with delicate fingertips. “He’s down,” she said softly, as if fearing her voice would float into the kid’s bedroom. A long-sleeved thermal shirt clung to her upper half, and she was back in her loose workout pants. Maybe she wanted the arm-covering because of the air-conditioning, or maybe bruises were rising and she didn’t want the kid to see. “I think he’s okay. A little afraid, but . . .what are we going to do?”

So it was we. That was good. Vince had been sitting on a nasty supposition for hours now, waiting to broach it with her.

Now he found he couldn’t, because she gazed up at him, worried and trusting, those big dark eyes open and vulnerable. What are we going to do?

“We’re probably safe enough here,” he said heavily, aware it was half a lie. Still, this place was familiar. He knew the ground and the blind spots, there was an alarm system, and he could hold the playroom door for a considerable length of time. The bars on plenty of the windows were nice and thick, too, which would help to funnel attackers. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. “For a couple days at least. What exactly did Alan say?” Now that the kid was down, getting the full sitrep would do them both good.

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