Page 42 of Desperately Delicate Viper

“Let me guess, you sent me the wrong address for the apartment showing?” I say in greeting, my phone wedged between my ear and my shoulder as I step into my jeans. Finn’s shaky exhale on the other end sends my heart racing before he’s even said a word. “Finn?”

“You said to call if he ever showed up acting weird,” he whispers so quietly that I have to press the phone harder to my ear to hear him. Or maybe that’s because my pulse is thundering now, whooshing like the ocean during a storm as I fight to keep my breathing even. The blood in my veins goes hot and cold all at once, and in the background, I hear a loudthud, thud, thudthat can only behimknocking at Finn’s door.

“Are your roommates there?” I ask, not bothering to even button my jeans, just rushing out of the bedroom towards the front door.

“No.” The answer is a whimper more than a word. “He keeps asking where you are. He said something about you owing him and you breaking some deal. He’s not making any sense. He sounds drunk.”

I growl, shoving my feet into my shoes. “I don’t owe that prick a goddamn thing.”

“Ands—” Finn sounds so young and helpless, it strips away any ounce of fear inside of me and replaces it with determination. “—what’s going on? Why is he acting like this?”

“I…” There’s another series of loud thuds and muffled shouting I can’t make out. I should tell Finn to call the police, let them toss our dad into the drunk tank for a day or so. Hell, if he doesn’t, someone else on his floor probably will any second. But knowing that dickhead, he’ll be right back at my brother’s door the second the police release him. “Give him my address.” I rattle off Luca’s address to him.

“I don’t…” He lets out another trembling breath that crackles through the phone. “There’s somethingwrongwith him. I’m not going to just send him to you like this.”

“Finny, listen to me.” I infuse my voice with every ounce of authority I have inside of me. “I’ll explain things to you later, but right now I need you to trust me when I tell you I can handle him. I’ve been dealing with this shit for a while now.” It’s the closest I’ve come to telling my brother the truth about what’s been going on, but every ounce of relief I get from it comes with a few fresh knots tying themselves into my gut.

He’s quiet on the other end for several long seconds. Even the pounding stops for a minute. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Finn asks softly.

A weak laugh tightens my throat, and I drag my free hand through my hair. “I’m your big brother.” The pounding starts back up. “Do it, give him my address. Now.”

“Okay.” It sounds like he utters the agreement through clenched teeth, and then the line goes dead.

Fuckity fuck fuck.

I press my hand against the front door, my fingers curling involuntarily into a fist against the smooth wood as I work to get my heart rate under control. It shouldn’t take my dad more than half an hour to get here. But then what? I thought sending him the money would keep him off my back for at least another week or two. I haven’t missed a single nightly payment since I’ve been staying at Luca’s, but apparently the drunk old man finallyrealized I wasn’t coming home and decided to take issue with that.

What I need now is a plan. My phone is still clutched in my hand, so I pull up Luca’s contact and press the call button. It rings until his generic voicemail message picks up. I hang up without leaving a message. My next call is Sparrow, but his doesn’t even ring before going straight to voicemail. I growl in frustration and send them both a text telling them that shit is about to go down. Who knows if they’ll see it before my dad shows up though. I’m certainly not going to sit around helpless, hoping for the cavalry to arrive and save my ass.

With a deep breath, I shove my phone into my pocket and go into prep mode. One thing I’m sure of is that I’m not going to let him put his hands on me. I’ve had enough bruises thanks to my dear old dad, and I’m drawing the line now. I stride back into the bedroom and pull open Luca’s top dresser drawer, pushing his socks and underwear to one side and then the other in search of any hidden weapons. He keeps his pistol with him, but surely a mafioso keeps spares lying around, right?

In the second drawer I find a neon pink dildo stuffed behind all of his folded jeans. If this situation were less dire, I might spare a second to come up with a few ways to use that to have some fun with Luca later, but I don’t have time for that right now.

In the third drawer, I strike gold, pulling a small pistol out from underneath his t-shirts. I wrap my fingers around the handle, testing the unfamiliar weight in my hand. I’ve never fired a gun in my life, but until recently, I’d never stabbed anyone either. There’s a first time for everything, and necessity breeds invention, or whatever other clichés apply to this situation, because apparently I’m doing this.

Can I actually shoot my own father? I have no fucking clue. But at least I’ll have the option if it comes to that. With the gunin hand, I go back to the front hall and stand by the door. I feel like I should be thinking about everything he’s done to me, or maybe about all the good times we had when my mom was still around, but my mind goes peacefully blank. Everything inside of me goes carefully numb as I stand like a sentry by the door, waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

When the knock finally comes, it’s not what I’m expecting. It’s not heavy and stilted like I would expect in my father’s drunken state. It’s a rapid, sharp rap. My heart leaps. Maybe it’s Sparrow.

I unhook the chain and fling the door open, my gun at the ready just in case itismy father. The air punches out of my lungs and my eyes widen.

“Finn, what the fuck are you doing here?”

My brother looks over his shoulder and then back at me. “I told him the address like you said, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept yelling and pounding on the door, so… I climbed out the window.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing him and dragging him inside. “So he could be right behind you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” His eyes drop to the gun in my hand and he stumbles back a step. “Anders, what the fuck?”

I flex my fingers around the handle and set my jaw. “There’s a lot you don’t understand, Finny. I need to get you out of here before he shows up. We can email your professors that you had a family emergency. Maybe we can even get them to let you write papers or something instead of sitting for the finals. We’ll put you on a bus out of town.” I tuck the gun into my waistband, a plan starting to form in my mind about how to keep my brother safe for a little while longer.

The ever-present sweetness in Finn’s eyes slips, replaced with something hard and determined.

“No,” he says firmly.

“No?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s going on and we’ll deal with it together.” His voice is just as firm as his expression, and I feel like I’m seeing the exact moment my baby brother turns from a little kid into a grown man. Pride and affection surge in my chest and I pull him into a hug.

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