Portia
The mat is trampled now. It should be replaced. The porch, too, looks run down, the once bright yellow paint peeling off the wooden railing, weeds growing through the floorboards.
But that’s not why Callahan gave me these.
I flip through, I see their faces. I don’t recognize the younger ones but the older ones I know. Uncles and others who worked for my father. The ones who left when Vincent and Gregory took over.
“How did you get these?”
“Drone. You recognize them?”
“Some.”
“Keep going.”
I do, my heartbeat picking up because I’m sure things are about to get worse. And they do. Fast.
It’s when I see the small cabin high in the mountains that my heart sinks. It’s where my father held his most important meetings. Complete privacy. I don’t want to know what else he did up there, but I do know if you were in real trouble with him, that’s where you went. Some never came back. The ones who did were in bad shape.
But now I see it’s one of my paternal cousins, well, the husband of a cousin. One who I hadn’t seen since the murders of my parents. I called him Fefe, a nickname because I couldn’t say his name, Felix, when I was little. Nathan couldn’t either and I remember teaching him Fefe even though Felix hated it. He married my uncle Heathcliff’s daughter.
And beside him stands Fernando Mancini. It’s the only reason I notice Felix at all. He’s an utterly, unremarkable man.
I look up at Callahan. “When were these taken?”
“Just a few days ago.”
“I don’t understand. Fernando is in Mexico?”
“Where is that cabin?”
“I’m not sure exactly. On Esmeralda land for sure. It’s where my father held secret meetings.” I say, tactfully leaving out the rest. “And that’s Felix Perez. Heathcliff’s son-in-law.”
I nod to confirm.
“Was he aligned with your brothers?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him, but I can’t be sure. But these men,” I say, pointing to a few. “They walked away after the killings. They didn’t trust my brothers. What’s going on, Callahan?”
“Nothing good, I’m sure.” He checks his watch, stands up. Would you like to see Nathan?”
“Really?” I ask, hopeful.
He nods.
“Yes, please.”
“Alec will take you down.”
“Can he come up? Maybe we can just walk outside for a little bit?”
“Not now, Portia.”
“Just for as long as you say, I promise – ”
“I said not now. Well discuss it later. I have an idea.”
“What idea?”
“Later. If you want to see him, now is your opportunity.”
I stand, not wanting to blow it. His eyes skim over me. “It’s my mother’s dress. Or so Lenore tells me. I don’t remember it.” He says that last part without meeting my eyes.
I look down, straighten the skirt of the dress. “Oh.”
“I thought I’d remember if I saw it on you.”
“I’ll take her down before I go,” Antonio says, standing. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Where are you going?” Callahan asks him.
“I need to get some things for tonight.”
“You’d better show up.”
“I will.” Antonio turns to me, the easy smile when he was talking to Callahan disappearing. “Lets go,” he says, opening the door.
I go because I want to see Nathan. Once the study door closes, Antonio takes hold of my arm. He’s not rough but it’s unnecessary. He stops me, makes me turn to him.
“You think you’ve got some hold on him?”
“What?”
“You’re a fuck toy to him. That’s all. Don’t get any fucking ideas.”
I tug my arm, but he doesn’t let go.
“I don’t like you. And I don’t trust you,” he says as if I didn’t already know.
“Feeling’s mutual.”
A flash of irritation darkens his eyes. “I’ve got my eye on you, Portia Esmeralda. And I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect my brother, so watch your step.”
Before I can even respond, he starts to walk us toward the hallway that will lead down to the cells. But just before we get there, I hear a familiar voice.
One that makes my skin crawl.
We both stop and turn. It’s my uncle. He’s here, in Callahan’s house. He turns to look at us, first at Antonio, whose hand tightens on my arm like he’s making a fist, then me.
He’s talking to a soldier.
He’s obviously caught off guard when he sees me, but he recovers quickly. His eyes skim over me as do the soldier’s, the latter without emotion.
My heart is beating so hard against my chest all I hear is rage. Blood pumping through my veins. Pounding against my ears.
“Antonio, my boy,” my uncle says by way of greeting. He smiles.
I look to Antonio whose expression is dark. Murderous even. Well, I guess we have one thing in common.
I take a step toward him, but Antonio’s hand tightens.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I touch the metal nail file I found in the bathroom that I strapped around my thigh. A knife would be better, but this is sharp and sturdy. It’ll do the job.
But Antonio tugs, hand bruising now.
The man with my uncle clears his throat. “Let’s go, Sir. Callahan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
My uncle gives me a one-sided, grin then disappears.
I watch him go, feel my eyes narrow. As Antonio leads me to my brother, I hear another voice from behind me. I glance back and recognize the man who had peeked his head into Callahan’s room that first morning,
He doesn’t see me as Antonio tugs me along, but I hear my uncle stop to greet him and shake my head.
Callahan is meeting with my uncle. My fucking uncle. If this doesn’t tell me where I stand in this mess, where I stand with Callahan, then nothing will. No matter what my stupid brain wants to make of moments like last night.
Callahan and my uncle are aligned. That puts Callahan firmly in the opposite corner from me. It’s not that unbelievable, is it? The only unbelievable part of this is that I ever thought he’d be in mine.