Page 68 of Cruel Love

It takes a moment, but she finally looks up at me. “Then, we will,” she says passively.

I take a deep breath. “Lilah, I—”

She raises a hand. “Hold that thought.”

I lower my voice as she spins around and darts several feet away with just a few quick paces.

“I want you to move here with me,” I murmur to myself. “But I guess I’ll just stand here and ask the wall instead like a bloody idiot.”

It might be a bad idea but not one unworthy of consideration. When all of this is over, I have to deal with a few realities, one of which is the very expired American visa in my name.

I can’t go back to the United States. Not legally, anyway. Sure, I could have Boxcar’s sketchy friend make me up a fake ID, but one savvy cop could bring it all down. I’ll have to face the music sooner or later.

I promised Lilah she’d go home again. I promised Dante I’d keep her alive. I promised Elijah I’d give her a future.

I might have to break one of those.

“Okay. New plan!” Lilah slams her hand down on Boxcar’s shoulder, drawing the attention of the others sitting around. “Grab your shit, Spunky,” she tells him. “You’re coming with us.”

Fox stiffens in his chair.

“What new plan?” Dante asks, his voice on the edge of annoyance.

Lilah grabs her bag and tosses it over her shoulder. “Well, as much fun as Russia sounds, I think we ought to split the party.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“Dante, we’re wasting time,” she says. “You guys go recruit the big, bad mobster guy. Meanwhile, Archer, me, and Scrappy will go check out the house in Paris.”

“Sparky,” I say over her shoulder.

“Whatever.”

“It’s Boxcar, actually,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

Dante shakes his head. “You don’t know what’s out there, Lilah.”

“Exactly,” she says. “All the more reason to send a small recon team in first to case the area and report back. I know you’ve been out of practice for a while, but you at least remember some of your training, right, big brother?”

Dante sighs and glances over at Fox. Neither of them says a word, meaning Lilah is either absolutely right or incredibly wrong.

Fox looks at Boxcar. “Are you okay with that?” he asks him.

Boxcar shrugs. “Sure, why not?” he says. “Just don’t tell my wife…”

Lilah digs her nails into his jacket and yanks him out of his chair with a solid grin on her face. “Wife, schmife. She’ll get over it.” She sidles over to Lucy’s chair and leans over to give her a quick hug. “We’ll keep in touch,” she says.

I straighten Boxcar’s jacket collar. “Sorry, mate,” I say. “But it’s not a bad idea, all things considered.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs. “Just not looking forward to it, that’s all.”

“You’ll be all right,” I tell him. “It’s just a little trek through the woods. We’ll be done before you know it and end the day with a few croissants. How about that?”

He chuckles to hide his hesitation and walks off, pausing briefly near Fox to share a quick, friendly handshake with him.

I steal one last look at Dante. He stares back at me with that same desperate look he had back at the lake house.

Lilah is all I have left in this world.

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