Page 59 of Shield and Savior

“Shit shit shit!” Alana says stomping up the stairs. “Client emergency. ” She pauses, “I’ve got to go.” She points at me. “So she knows?”

My dad grunts yes. She nods and the garage door slams behind her, the car’s engine revs to life and seconds later she’s gone.

Everything from the past two hours hits me. My fuckery is of world-ending magnitude.

Dad leans forward in his chair and puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “Speaking of Alana…”

Oh no.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Lance?”

My mouth becomes dry and wet at once, like a swamp in a drought. Shit. Joey lets out a deep sigh, loud and melodramatic. “I thought it was clear that Mastodon was off the table.”

Dad’s eyes meet mine across the room. There’s a lightness and relief in his face I haven’t seen in years. “He’s a good man. Loyal…”

“To Alana,” Joey says.

That statement bothers me. Alana doesn’t owe us anything. But she let Lance keep in contact with us. She isn’t a part of the Four Families, but she’s networked her way into almost god-level status. What do they see in her that I don’t? She’s a great ally, sure, but she’ll never be family. I can’t figure her out.

“To the kids…to anyone he cares about,” Dad counters. “Nonna likes him. All the moms think he’s wonderful, and those women have seen every con artist around. They have laser vision to cut through all the bullshit, and if he gets the thumbs up from them, well, that’s enough for me.”

I didn’t think I needed or wanted his approval. But still, it’s nice to have. And who am I kidding, nothing is done without some level of family approval.

Donnie says, “You’ve done worse.”

“Literally.”My ex and this failure still feel like a lead blanket on my shoulders. My injuries healed months ago. Every once in a while, if I take a quick breath, my side hurts. “I’m sorry I let my ex hurt me.”

It’s the apology I should have made when I first came here. I’m sure it’s why I waited or why no one asked for it. Failure is weakness. And weakness in our family business is dangerous and forgivable only by extreme mercy and luck. Every day I waited, I dug my hole deeper.

“The fuck did you say?” Joey jumps up, his hand in an instant fist. His eyes blaze in a way I’ve only seen when I beat him at Mario Kart. “Don’t ever let me hear you fucking blame yourself for what that twatburger did to you.” He paces back and forth, pushing his hair out of his face.

Donnie’s head hangs low as he braces himself on the counter top. “Did we do this to her?”

All lightness and joy vanish from my dad’s face. “I don’t know.” He finishes the last of the liquid in his glass and slams it on the table. “First, what he did to you was the sign of a fucking coward and the definition of a cheap shot. Second, we’ve all had the shit kicked out of us. But we all had backup to get us the hell out of there.” He points to me. “You were all alone, protecting your son, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He looks off into space for a second. I can’t even pretend to understand what he’s thinking. But whoever this man is, he’s different from the man who raised me. He clears his throat. “You were separated from us, like a baby antelope, and a crocodile tried to snatch you away. But the herd came back to protect the baby. You’re home now, and as safe as we can make you.”

ChapterTwenty-Nine

Lance

I’m not sure how long the EMTs take to load both of us up. Or how long the ambulance ride is, but they have me back here with Phoenix. It isn’t until the tube is forced down my throat that I realize what the hell is happening.

I’m only vaguely aware that I’m not alone after my stomach gets pumped. Someone takes my hand. “Izzy?”

“Not even close,” Honey Badger says, “and I’m a little offended.” Her shiny black designer dress is such a sharp contrast to the sterile aesthetic of the hospital.

Squeezing her hand I say, “You shouldn’t be here.”But the words burn my throat and I regret it.

“Please. I signed a few autographs for the hospital staff, and they sent me right back.” Still holding my hand, she leans back in the hard plastic guest chair. Her eyes drift down the hall.

From my station, I can see nearly everyone in the ER. There’s a disturbance at the entrance. Nurses and a security guard are trying to hold back Hurricane Alana. I’ve got to admit they’re doing a pretty good job, but I think it’s because the fighter isn’t putting much effort into it. She’s squirming around, basic evasive maneuvers. The phone rings at the nurses station, and my boss stands still. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I know her well enough. She’s probably saying, “You should answer that.”

One of the nurses answers the phone, nods a few times, then slams the receiver down. The nurse side steps the officers , she offers her hand to Alana, and they walk back toward me. But Alana stops at a bed where doctors are feverishly working on someone. The curtains are pulled, and I can’t see, but the way her body tightens and the slight change in her expression, I know exactly who’s there. Phoenix.

The nurse places her hand on Alana’s back. It’s like petting a lion. This woman is either brave or stupid. Only a few beds away, I can tell they’re talking about something, and Alana takes out her cell phone and types away.

By the time both women arrive at my bed, my boss lifts her head from the screen. She glances at it again and tilts her head at Honey Badger. Anyone who knows Alana would’ve flinched at her glare. Not Honey Badger. That’s how she got her code name. She’s fucking fearless.

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