Page 62 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“You wrote us off without even talking to me.”
“What was there to talk about? You had an airtight contract. And I’d never suggest you quit because if you asked me to do the same, I couldn’t.”
“Not until the next break in your contract, I got that, but?—”
“Not ever. This isn’t just a job to me; it’s the life I was meant to live.”
“Jungle warfare?”
“Preventing small problems from becoming bigger ones, and getting justice for those who can’t.” Then more quietly, I added, “If I could turn back time, I’d slip more than laxatives into my dad’s food.”
I saw the moment it clicked. The moment Marc truly understood what drove me. That I fought over and over again for that little girl who’d been mindfucked by her father from the moment she was born, who’d been forced to watch as he drove her mother to suicide.
Marc opened his arms, and I stepped into them. I needed the hug. Deserved the hug.
“If we could turn back time, I’d do it for you,” he whispered.
No, he wouldn’t. Marc wasn’t a man who’d cope well in prison. It should have been me. Then I’d still have my brother and possibly my boyfriend, but not my job. Life would be very different. Bad different or good different? Well, I’d never know.
“The past is the past. We’ve all moved on.”
“Not completely.”
I looked up at him, and his gaze locked onto mine. Uh-oh.
“Don’t do this,” I warned again.
“Do what?”
“Try to change me.”
Try to break me.
“That’s what you think I’m doing?”
“This is who I am, and don’t think I missed the horror in your eyes when you realised what I’d become. When you saw who I am. When I killed seventeen people on Sunday.”
Marc kissed my forehead. “It wasn’t horror, it was shock.” He paused, considering. “Shock, but perhaps not surprise, and it was them or us. I understand why you did it. Why I did it.” He shuddered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him fall.”
“It gets easier.”
“I’m not sure I want it to.” And that was the fundamental difference between us, wasn’t it? “Are you sure about the ‘no charges’ part? My lawyer said the authorities aren’t being very forthcoming, and I’m not allowed to leave the country. And…and I killed a man, Phae.”
“I told them I did it. Usually, I don’t like to take credit for other people’s work, but it seemed like the best option. I mean, what’s one more?”
Besides, the authorities were more interested in the crow and the missing heads. Questions, questions, so many questions. I’d refused to answer any of them—that’s why we had the suits. Oh, and the Indonesians had asked us to run a joint training exercise with Kopassus. No, thanks. Emmy could do that if she wanted to.
“What about forensics?”
“It was my gun. Okay, sure, they could calculate the height of the shooter by checking the bullet’s entry angle, but they won’t, not when they have a literal assassin standing there saying she pulled the trigger.” Marc flinched at the word “assassin.” Good. He should. “Confirmation bias is a wonderful thing.”
“What about the others? Katie—KD—and Frank? What consequences will they face?”
“Who knows? I’m not an attorney; I just cause headaches for them. But right now, they’re going with the ‘no comment’ approach, and I expect they’ll be charged with unlawful abduction and property damage at a bare minimum. I can’t believe you’re paying their legal fees.”
“They’re not monsters. Yes, the kidnapping itself was terrifying, being held at gunpoint and shoved onto a boat, but they didn’t treat us badly after that. And someone has to look out for the tarsiers.”
“Chaining yourself to a tree has gone out of fashion?”
