Elin bends over him. “Second thing is I will fuck you up worse than this if you”—she looks up at the rest of the spectators—“or any of you fuck with her again.”
They never again call me names at school.
Later that night, when Elin finds me clutching my throat in the throes of another nightmare reenactment where Monsieur’s giant paws are around my neck, she hugs me, opening a tiny fissure that I finally walk through.
I grip her, not wanting to let go, the need to relieve my burden so great it is like I am suffocating from beneath it until I finally say, “I need to tell you my story.”
49
AFTER
Nena and Georgia were putting away all the hair-care materials when Cort stuck his head in the room.
“Hey,” he said, then stopped when he saw his daughter’s perfect braids coiled upward into a high bun atop Georgia’s head. It didn’t look dissimilar to the low version Nena sported. “Wow, look at you, Peach. You look amazing.”
Georgia gave a tentative pat of her hair. “Thanks. I wanted Nena to do one like hers.”
He nodded, shooting Nena an appreciative smile, then gazing again at his daughter, free of the tears and turmoil from earlier. “God, I almost forgot. Nena, you have a guest.”
Nena stilled. “Me?” she said, sharper than she intended. No one knew she was here, except . . .
“Your sister?” Cort said, a little unsure if he’d delivered good news or bad. “She’s waiting out front.” But Nena had already pushed past him without another word.
Elin wouldn’t. Nena marched toward the front door, half expecting Elin to be waiting for her there, nose in the air as she gave the lived-in home a once-over with her highly expensive, highly critical eye. Elin wasn’t in the foyer or the living room. She wasn’t in the house but rather was leaning against the driver’s-side door of her white-as-snow Tesla. She looked as annoyed as Nena felt.
“What the fuck?” Elin said as her little sister neared her. “You don’t answer messages or my calls now?”
“What do you mean?” Nena frowned, feeling her pockets for her phone, which wasn’t there. Rucksack, she thought. “You rang me?”
“No, I just popped up to make bloody small talk.” Elin rolled her eyes, pushing off her car and sauntering toward Nena, tall and regal as usual. And annoyed. Couldn’t forget that.
Nena scanned the street. Where was Elin’s security? She asked, but Elin waved her off. “Is it Mum or Dad?”
“They’re fine. And I don’t need security when Oliver’s with me.”
Nena did a double take. Not only had Elin appeared, but she’d brought Oliver, when she knew how much Nena wanted to keep the Baxters separate from their lives for now.
“You brought Oliver?” Nena strained to see around her insufferable sister. “What’s so damn important that you had to hunt me down? And with him?” Nena gestured toward the car. She couldn’t see him through the tinted glass.
Elin flipped her hand. “We’re on our way to Vegas. And because my sister refuses my calls.”
Nena had never wanted to wring her sister’s neck as much as she wanted to at this very moment. “What. Is. It?”
“A warning. That little spa day you had not too long ago? It’s been noticed.”
Nena made no response. She’d expected as much. Maybe not this soon, but still. “All right.”
“Intel came in through Network about it. I don’t think it’ll make big waves because no one knows or cares about the bastard. But if it’s coming through Network, it means your big bad has likely heard through his own channels. You need to watch your back until we find Paul, wherever he is.”
Too late, Nena thought grimly. Paul was already found.
While Nena had told Elin about the intel Witt had provided, she hadn’t told her sister who Oliver’s father was. She couldn’t do that to Elin just yet, burst her idealistic dream by telling her that her boyfriend’s dad was a sadistic monster. Plus, Paul’s threat against her family weighed heavily on Nena’s mind—heavier now that he likely knew Kwabena was dead.
“Has anyone else said anything? Oliver?”
Elin scoffed. “Are you mad? Oliver is an altar boy. Give the man a financial sheet, and that’s the most excitement you’ll get from him. I can’t even get him to go anal on me, he’s so fucking squeaky clean.”
“Please,” Nena begged, the vision of her sister and Oliver assaulting her. She was used to Elin’s garishness but wasn’t ready for this.