Page 107 of Lucky Strike

“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him. He’s been guilt-tripping himself all morning, lamenting the fact he has to attend a Saoirse meeting instead of Liam’s check-up. “This is why I’m here, remember? We’ll be fine.”

His eyes flicker past me to Liam, who’s playing with a pair of tiny dinosaurs we keep in his car seat’s cup holder. “Call me if you need me.” Leaning in, he brushes his lips over my cheek. “I’ll try to get through this meeting as quickly as possible.”

“Be careful.”

He ducks to kiss me. “You, too.”

We pull out of the parking garage behind Lucky and Terry, turning right when they turn left. Liam chatters all the way to the doctor’s office as I gaze out the window, wondering when the other shoe is going to drop, wondering if this is the way it’s going to be forever. Ma texts, asking about Thanksgiving and whether or not I’m coming home. I put my phone away, leaving her on read.

After a thorough examination and a load of questions, Dr. Fadel announces that Liam’s doing great, all things considered. No additional injuries beside his arm, no whiplash. I tell him about Liam’s sleep issues, but even those, he says, are normal and will fade with time.

I’m buckling Liam into his car seat afterward when I spy a flash of yellow on the seat. Liam’s smartwatch. Leaning over him, I pick it up, fingering the strap with a sigh. This isn’t the first time it’s slipped off. I keep telling Conlan we need a smaller strap.

I fasten it onto Liam’s wrist, tugging his shirt and jacket sleeves down over it.

I checkthe clock on Mitch’s dashboard as we pull up to Little Friends Preschool. “I should be done around eleven.”

“Just send me a text.” He puts the car in park, glancing at the sideand rear mirrors. It’s a quiet street, full of small businesses and a small park at the end. “I’ll be in the parking lot.”

“You sure you don’t want to come?” I offer, looping my purse over my good arm. “You might enjoy the play.”

Mitch holds up a file folder and a tablet with a wry smile. “Thanks, but I have work to catch up on.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrug, reaching for the door handle.

“Let me help you with Liam.” He goes to open the door, then stops, throwing the car back into drive. “Put your seat belt back on.” I do, flattened against the seat as he jerks forward.

“What—” I look back to see a man jumping back into a black SUV behind us. “Oh, my God.”

“Stay down,” he murmurs.

Liam looks around with a frown, his dinosaurs forgotten for the time being. “I have to go to school, Mr. Mitch.”

We hook a corner and keep going, the SUV practically on top of us now. Mitch slows for a stop sign and then blows through, but they keep coming. Another one appears, coming from the opposite direction. Mitch yanks the car onto a side street, then down another, but when we emerge on the other side, one of the SUVs is waiting. He reaches for the handgun he keeps beneath his jacket in a shoulder holster and opens the door. “Call Lucky.”

It all happens so fast. His gun is quieter than I’d have imagined, but still loud enough to draw an alarmed cry from Liam. “Put your head down, Liam,” I say, and he does, laying his head on the snack tray attached to the seat. I’ve just found my phone in the bottom of my purse when a masked man in a black hoodie appears. He shoots and Mitch crumples to the ground with a yell.

“Mitch,” I scream, hot coffee splashing across my lap as two more masked men leap from the SUV. One yanks open my door as the other goes around to Liam. “Wait, no—" But the man’s already hauling me from our car and into the back seat of their vehicle. Pain explodes from my ribs with the jerky, rough movements.

Liam cries out in a panic. My mind goes blank. I squirm fruitlessly against the men who have me boxed in, trying to see what’s going on. “He’s just a baby, please?—"

The same gun that killed Mitch is shoved sharply into my side. “Relax.” Liam’s deposited behind me, in the third row, between two men.

“C’mon, let’s go,” chants the driver, his gloved hand tapping impatiently at the steering wheel. The back doors slam shut.

I look around the man on my left as we jerk forward, straining to see Mitch, a sob working its way up when I realize that he isn’t moving. “You didn’t have to do that!” I wail, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Quiet,” the man growls as we accelerate down the street. Trees, houses, and shops pass in a frantic blur as the man on my right reaches into my purse, grabs my phone, and tosses it out the window.

My heart pounds so hard that I can feel it pulsing in my temples. I shut my eyes, trying to breathe through the fear and the pain, even though my ribs really fucking hurt. Maybe that’s a blessing. It will keep me focused. “Please,” I whisper. “Please don’t hurt us.”

“If you shut up and do as you’re told,” the man on my right says, his gun still trained on me. “We won’t have to.”

30.Lucky

Now

“So, the Sokolovs are dead?” Dad asks, folding his arms over his belly as he sits back.

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