Page 53 of Devil's Due

“No.” Her hair flies around her face with her negative action. “I don’t want to embroil you any deeper than you already are.” She puts down her fork. “Beef, I can tell you’re a man who thinks they can sort out the world for everyone else, but this is one situation you have no control over. The short story is what you already know, I have to keep out of sight until the court case, then I give my testimony. The bad guys get sent down, and hopefully I’ll be able to return to my life.”

“Really?” I frown. “Usually people give up their old life for good. You really think you’re going to be able to return home?”

For the first time since I’ve met her, her face falls. Apart from her sorrow and worry about Max, she always manages to stay positive. Within seconds, her mask is back in place. “The marshals did suggest this could be for good, but I can’t believe that. Once the men are put away, I’ll be free again.”

She’s naïve if she thinks that. Whoever she’s up against will have friends on the outside or will make ones on the inside who are coming up for release. If her life’s at risk now, even when it’s all over, going home will likely mean she ends up dead. Even if the damage has already been done, if people end up convicted, they may want revenge. Can’t tell until I know who she’s going up against.

“Tell me, Stevie. I might be able to help. Tell me who they are.” If I know, maybe I can assess whether there could be a lingering threat. The Mafia, for example, would never forget or forgive.

Again, her head moves side to side. “What if you think I’m wrong, Beef? What if you don’t agree with what I’m doing?”

“Fuck, woman,” I snarl. “There’re people wanting to kill you. You think I’d side with them? Running Max down, setting fire to your house… You think I’ll take their side rather than yours? Don’t give a damn who they are. They’re already dead for what they’ve tried to do to you.”

Chapter Nineteen

Over the next couple of days I try at odd times to catch her out at a weak moment, but she continues to refuse to enlighten me. I grow more concerned about why she’s not sharing who’s after her.Why would she think there’s a chance I’d side with them?The thought concerns me, and I begin to grow suspicious.

When I push, she clams up and while it’s normally easy to get along, my reference to what info she’s holding makes things awkward between us, an awkwardness that’s uncomfortable. Knowing the door is firmly closed, I decide to avoid the issue until I find a key to unlock it. Surely, she’ll weaken and let something slip?

So after my futile and clumsy attempts to get her to open up, we skirt around the reason why she’s here, and instead start learning about our new home. Cooking on the wood-burning stove is a bit of a test, for us both, but our endeavours do provide fodder for a lot of laughs.

It’s like being on a vacation, I don’t think I’ve felt so relaxed for years. Sure, living on the compound in Tucson was easy: the women did most of the cooking, the prospects kept the place clean, I had little to do but work, drink, sleep with whores and enjoy the company of the men. There’s something about being here with Stevie that’s taken me by surprise. I forget I’m missing the company of my brothers and simply appreciate being withher.

With Sally I’d always felt on tenterhooks, waiting to do or say the wrong thing. Me clomping in too heavily would get her startling as though expecting me to raise my hand to her. Stevie just laughs and tells me there’s no way she’d ever mistake me for anyone else. I’m a big man, I stomp. I can’t help it.

She constantly amazes me. One afternoon I walk in to find her cooking, opening a can of tomatoes and adding them to a pan. It takes me a moment to decide what’s wrong about the situation.

“How the fuck did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That cupboard is full of tins. How did you know there’re tomatoes in that can?”

“Tomatoes? Damn. I wanted beans.” She pouts and frowns.

Realising she’s pulling my leg. I walk closer. “Woman,” I growl.

She sighs and takes sympathy on me. “In the old days I’d do it a number of ways. Have someone help me unpack my shopping and put on different tags so I could tell the difference. Elastic bands around certain things for example, raised stickers for another. Sometimes you can get a feel for the contents by shaking it. Obviously no one’s helped me here, so I’m afraid there are a lot of opened cans in the trash.”

Fuck.I should have helped her.She hadn’t asked.Guiltily, I take a step toward the bin to see just how much food she’s wasted simply to find the right can.

Her giggling stops me. “I’m joking. Now, I have better tools.” She reaches into her pocket and takes out the high-end phone I notice she’d got from Cad. “Come here, watch.”

Waving me nearer, she asks the phone to call up an app. She then places it in front of the tin. Her phone reads the writing on the front, clearly telling her it contains the contents she wanted.

“Christ, that’s neat.”

“Yeah, makes life much easier. Another app recognises bank notes and tells me the denomination. Technology has really helped me become more independent.”

“You have to check your bills every time?”

“No. Once I know what it is, I fold the corner or fold it in half. I’ve got my system.”

Again, I nod admiringly.

Seeing I’m interested, she takes the pan off the heat, and leans back against the counter. “Then there are clothes. All the ones I lost in the fire were marked. I use different shaped buttons to separate the different colours.”

“How do you know what to start with?”

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