“What happened next, Cort?” Nena pressed on in case he passed out again.
Cort took in a ragged breath. “When I heard the shot, I came around the corner and saw Mack outside. Peach was in the foyer, and the guy was pointing the gun at her and made her come in. I struggled with him, and he hit me with his gun. I pushed Peach out of the way, and he shot me. That’s all I remember.” He looked around, confused and terrified. “Peach? Where is she?”
“She’s not here,”
“What do you mean, she’s not here? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. Yet,” Nena assured him. “Can you describe him? Did he say anything?”
He concentrated. “No. He got me before I had a good look at him. And he had on a hat, black, like his clothes. Maybe he’s about my height, fit, strong. I just didn’t get a good enough look. Nena . . .”
“I know, Cort. We’ll find her.”
Elin had opened her mouth to speak when her phone rang in her hand, and Oliver’s name appeared on the screen.
“Oliver, not the best time. I’m dealing with a situation,” Elin rushed to say, watching with trepidation as Nena applied pressure to Cort’s wound. “Can I get back to you?”
She paused as she listened to Oliver’s response, her expression turning from worry to surprise, then confusion. She pulled the phone from her ear and pressed the speaker button.
“She can hear,” Elin said. “But as I said, we’re dealing with a situation here.”
“Yes, and I believe I am that situation,” Oliver said.
Nena and Elin froze. Oliver’s tone was all wrong, not like how he’d sounded when Nena had met him the night of the dinner party. He sounded like his father.
Elin said, “What?”
“Shut up, Elin,” he snapped, enunciating as if she were an imbecile. “I need to speak with Nena.”
68
BEFORE
When both Elin and I have graduated university with our respective degrees, we strike out from beneath the protective umbrella of Delphine and Noble Knight and are permitted to relocate to the States, to Florida to be exact, for a couple of reasons. And by “reasons,” I mean me.
One, because Florida holds a special place in my heart because of the yearly excursions Dad and I make to the races. Two, because Florida can be hot and doesn’t have cold weather like England does. We all know how much I detest the cold. Three, because Florida has Miami, which is a port city （something Dad loves） and is a melting pot of so many cultures I feel I am both back home and not, at the same time.
Elin chooses to live in the high-rise flat in Coconut Grove, which is beautiful and fitting of the type of woman Elin has become, chic and sophisticated. A true High Council member-to-be. But I choose to live somewhere subtler, more comfortable to me. It is in Freedom City, in a neighborhood called Citrus Grove, where I find my home. It is small, with chipped, faded yellow paint and shingles in need of work I will happily pay for. It sits on the corner, and I can imagine how it will look when I am done renovating it.
I also meet the man who will become one of my closest associates, Keigel, head of the 102s, the local band of merry gang members. Keigel acts tough at first but soon changes when he realizes I don’t scare easily.
He appraises me as if I am a specimen. “And this ain’t no gentrification-type shit?” he asks when I tell him I mean to be his neighbor—three doors down.
“Not in the least.”
He twists his lips. “I ain’t no superman, ya heard?” he warns. “You come across trouble here, I can’t save you.”
“I understand.” Perfectly.
I enjoy Keigel’s company because he’s a softy under a gruff exterior. And he has impeccable taste in lemon-pepper wings from Wings and Such. However, if he asks, I will deny it.
69
AFTER
Gently, Nena took the phone and switched off the speaker. She didn’t want Cort to hear if the news about Georgia was bad. Knowing she had been right about Elin’s now husband was devastating news enough for one of the people Nena cared about. She didn’t know if she could handle destroying the hopes of someone else just yet. Beside her, Elin balled her trembling hands at her sides. Nena put the phone to her ear.
“What is it?”
“Did Elin share our good news?” Oliver said, as if he weren’t waging war against them. Nena could hear wind whooshing in the background. Car. But how far had he gone? And was he alone?
“Where is she?”
“With me.” He laughed, his words wreaking havoc on her system. “She’s a spitfire and can hit like a motherfucker.”