Chapter 11: 11

She glances up at me, her golden eyes soft and warm. For the first time, she gives me a small smile.

Shit.

It isn’t just that Molly is beautiful, which she is. I’ve killed beautiful people before. It’s part of the job, and I don’t mind doing what has to be done. It’s the fact that Molly is innocent. She didn’t do anything to deserve this. Any of it. And Theo certainly doesn’t deserve to lose his mom. But what other choice do I have?

Let Fedor go to prison for life. That’s the choice. If the DA can pin anything on him, they’ll be able to present a case that he has a long history of criminal, often violent, crimes and shouldn’t be able to walk free. My baby brother will be locked away forever, and it will be my fault.

“So,” Molly says, moving over to lean against the check-in desk. “What is it like owning a motel?”

“Several motels, actually. I think there are seven or eight.”

Her eyes go wide. “Wow. That’s a lot to keep track of all by yourself.”

“It’s a family business.”

Her pink lips form a silent “oh,” and she nods. “That must be nice. Working with family.”

I almost snort. “If you knew my brother, you’d change your mind.” My blood goes cold. She does know my brother.

A sick feeling worms its way through my chest, but Molly just smiles. “I don’t have any siblings, so I wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

“Where are your parents?” I ask, shifting the conversation away from my family.

“Divorced, unhappy, and unconcerned,” she says quickly. I can tell it’s an answer she gives out often. “We don’t talk.”

“So it really is just you and Theo.”

“It really is,” she says, looking over at her son with a small smile. “He’s amazing, though. More than enough family for me.”

Shit, shit, shit.

I want Molly to be a terrible mother. I want her to be abusive and miserable and a thief. I want her to be someone it would be easy to kill. A woman I wouldn’t mind taking away from her son.

Molly doesn’t appear to be any of those things.

She’s someone who life has happened to. Mostly without her consent, things happened, and she reacted, and here she is. Still standing, still fighting, still trying. And it is damn admirable.

“Mama.” Theo is suddenly between us, his knees pinched together. “I have to potty.”

“Oh.” Molly’s eyes dart around the room, and I point her to the employee bathroom in the back corner.

“It might not be very clean, but it’s a toilet.”

“Perfect.” She nods at me in thanks and then rushes Theo off to the bathroom, his small hand firmly clasped in hers. I stand in place and wait.

When he’s finished, Theo runs out of the bathroom ahead of Molly and stops in front of me. He tips his head all the way back to look at me and then smiles. It’s a child’s smile. An innocent smile. One given without expectation or reason, and when I look into his face, I see Fedor. Not just in looks, but in temperament.

I see Fedor before our mother died, before Dad clearly preferred me over him, before he fell by the wayside and found reckless ways to keep himself entertained. I see my baby brother when his heart was open and kind. I see my family.

That’s what Theo is, after all. He’s my nephew. My flesh and blood.

Would Fedor want me to kill Molly if he knew she was raising his son?

More importantly, can I do it?

Molly pats Theo on the head, mussing his dark hair—hair only a shade darker than my own—and then bends down to kiss his forehead. Theo wrinkles his nose but wraps his arm around his mom’s leg, hugging her close.

It’s almost like they know what I’m planning. Like they’re trying to show me how much they don’t deserve to be separated. Trying to show me they’re good people.

But Fedor could be a good person. If he could get out of prison and get his head on straight, he could start over. He could have a position in the Bratva that would keep him busy and out of trouble. He could maybe find someone to balance him out and have a family of his own. If his genes could make a kid like Theo, he could have a whole brood of wide-eyed, lopsided-smiling kids. Fedor could have a life.

But only if I take Molly’s.

Greg arrives back with the cleaning cart, his forehead sweaty from the exertion of cleaning the room. “It’s ready,” he wheezes. “Should I show you to your room?”

“No,” I answer a bit too quickly.

Greg doesn’t ever need to be alone with Molly again. He hands her the card, disdain obvious in his eyes, and then retreats behind the desk.

“I could show you,” I offer. “If you want.”

The room number—thirteen—is printed on the back of the card, and Molly holds it up, her hand wrapping around Theo’s. “I’m sure we can manage. Thank you, though. For everything.”

Room number thirteen. Unlucky. An omen, perhaps.

“Of course,” I say, my smile tight and false. “Be sure to order room service. A snack tray isn’t a good enough dinner for either of you.”

“Um,” Greg says behind me. “We don’t have room service.”

I spin around, eyes narrowed, and growl the words between clenched teeth. “You do now. Our list of amenities just got an upgrade. Get her whatever she wants. Make sure someone else delivers it, though. You will be keeping your distance from her.”

When Molly and Theo walk away, I wonder what the next time I see them will be like.

I came to the motel to find her and kill her. And now?

Now, I really don’t know.

6

Molly

A

pparently, the snack table was enough for Theo because, a few minutes after getting into the room, he burrows under the scratchy blankets and falls asleep. The mattress is bad by most standards, but it’s better than the thin pads we usually get at the shelter, so Theo probably feels like he’s sleeping on a cloud.

The room was probably redecorated at the same time the lobby was—no more recently than the late eighties—but it’s clean. I’m hesitant to give Gropey Greg from the front desk any credit at all, but the room smells lemony fresh and every surface is shining. Clearly, he had the fear of God put into him by Viktor.

The thought of Viktor makes my frazzled mind nearly short circuit, so I quickly shove him aside and focus on the basics.

I’m hungry.

I’ve never ordered room service, but even if I had, I don’t think that experience would be of much use considering the motel doesn’t actually offer room service. So, I call the front desk and try to remember which restaurants I saw nearby. Greg has been replaced by the other employee Viktor told him to call in, and he takes my order of a cheeseburger and large French fry from the burger place next door as though it’s something they do for all the guests.

When I hang up, I pace across the floor and then look back at Theo. He’s still sleeping soundly, and I’m not sure what to do. Usually, when I find any small amount of free time, I flip through some of the interior design books I’ve picked up from garage sales and donation bins over the years. They aren’t exactly textbooks like what I would have had if I had gone to school, but I can still learn from them. Unfortunately, I forgot them in my gym locker. After everything that happened this morning, I’m not sure I’ll be allowed in to get them back.