“You thought I was going to kill Kovac? You thought I killed all those other people?”
“You were talking about hits and hacks! You were insanely secretive and you lie like you’re getting paid.” Rake paused and guzzled half his ginger beer. Stress made him thirsty, clearly. “Actually, you are getting paid.”
“Point,” Delaney conceded.
It was hours later; Kovac and the C team had been arrested, lawyers had been summoned, statements had been taken, paperwork had been filed, teeth had been gnashed. Rake had been politely but not really asked to leave the city, the nuclear option vouched for him and promised to put him (and Lillith, and herself) on a plane ASAP, and the others did a fade, then met up with them for supper at Antiche Carampane, a centuries-old restaurant justly famous for its homemade desserts.
And just in time, because they were all starving and had walked past several acceptable restaurants, all vetoed by the nuclear option.
“I’m sorry, darling, but I simply refuse to eat in a restaurant that employs the use of neon lighting to lure customers, specifically makes a point of saying Americans are welcome, or serves chicken tenders.”
“This,” Rake said. “This is what I had to put up with, you guys. All my life. Oh, and Blake, too. I guess.”
“Gift horses, dear. Lillith, you come sit by me. Now: all of you. I’m dying to hear the whole story, beginning to end.”
“Come to think of it,” Rake said, “so am I.” But he smiled as he said it, clearly relaxed for the first time in days.
“But first, we’ll order.” Then, proudly to the waiter; “My granddaughter will be ordering for me.”
So she did, suggesting the carpaccio of raw wild fish
(“You like sushi, right, Grandma? Then you’ll probably like this.”)
spaghetti with spicy sauce, and finishing with several sorbets and biscottini della casa.
“She’s trilingual!” Mrs. Tarbell announced to the waiter, the table at large, the tables behind them, a third of the kitchen staff, the street outside. Rake caught Delaney’s gaze and they both smiled when Lillith didn’t correct her.
What the hell, Delaney thought. Let her keep some secrets. That one at least won’t get anyone killed.
Meanwhile, Ellen was breaking it down for the Tarbells. “To be clear: Hits and hacks don’t equal murder. They mean that when someone promises money for the Big Pipe Dream, then reneges, we investigate why. We break in, in every sense of the word. We look at everything.”
Delaney picked up the narrative. “And if we find out they broke their word for a legitimate reason—unexpected hospital bills if it’s a private person, or needing to rebuild after a storm or fire if it’s a company, or not pulling in the contributions they anticipated … that stuff happens, and it’s nobody’s fault. Something like that, we let it go and no hard feelings.”
Mrs. Tarbell was nodding. “But if, say, somebody wants to buy his mistress a summer home—”
“Right. Then I go to them, and lay out what we were able to dig up, and I tell them, ‘Keep your word, or we’ll put all your dirty laundry out there. I’ll expose you as a liar and a cheat and you’ll lose a lot more than the donation you promised.’”
It wasn’t a calling, exactly. But they’d been doing it forever—since a few months after she’d kicked Elena’s bully in the balls back in middle school, in fact.
“Exposure is their worst nightmare,” she continued. “Their exposure going viral is too terrifying to even be contemplated. They’ve always given in.”
Elena had gone quiet, and Delaney could guess why. The first person they’d hacked, years ago, had been their mutual foster father, who had a bad habit of “accidentally” walking in on them if they were in the bathroom, or dressing, or undressing. Pretty soon there were dozens of accidental sightings every week. The foster mother refused to take it seriously
(“Oh, you girls are so sensitive! Aren’t we all one big happy family? Who cares who sees what?”)
and the girls knew from experience that CPS was overworked and unlikely to be helpful without proof. So they’d hacked his home office and computer and found the porn, which was gross but not unexpected, and the monthly payments to the seventeen-year-old mistress, which was gross but helpful. Which they discussed with him. At length.
End of “accidents.”
“I wish you’d told me what you were really up to,” Rake said, having the gall to sound wounded.
“How could I? Your takeaway from Lillith’s story was ‘Your dead mom was a thief and a blackmailer.’ Why the hell would any of us confide anything we didn’t absolutely have to?”
“I like how she’s lumping us in with her,” Ellen commented with a grin. “I actually wouldn’t have cared if you’d confided.”
Rake cleared his throat. “So … you guys didn’t go to prison together?”
“What? No.” Delaney saw what he was getting at and realized she couldn’t give him shit for this one, because that’s what she had told him earlier in the week: We did time together. “We were in the same foster home. Why do you think I didn’t care about talking to the cops once we knew exactly how Donna died? I’m the only one in the family who doesn’t have a record. And do you know why, Rake?”
“No, but I’ll bet it’s a great story.”
“It’s a wonderful story,” Teresa confided. “We come off as piuttosto eroico.”*
“It’s not because I was smarter or faster or trickier. It’s because they”—pointing at Ellen and Teresa—“took the fall. Each time we got caught—which admittedly wasn’t often, and certainly not since we were voting age—they kept me clear of it. We’re all dirty, but they help me at least look clean.”
“Is that why the Big Pipe Dream is so important? Why it has to be an off-the-books shelter? Because some of you have records?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Delaney said as the other girls nodded. “It’s one more piece of bureaucracy that gums up the works and makes it harder to make kids safe. But, thanks to your grandmother…”
Mrs. Tarbell was already nodding. “Oh, yes, dear. You’ve done your part and then some. I’ll be wiring the rest of your funds first thing in the morning.”
“You— Really?” From long habit, Delaney had already began mustering arguments. “Just like that?”
“It’s not ‘just like that,’ Delaney. You did everything you promised, even though your life was in danger—”
“Repeatedly,” Rake growled.
“—and your friends were at risk, to say nothing of my littlest darling.”
“Aw.”
“Not you, Rake.” Lillith giggled.
“It was worth being at risk,” Teresa said. “To find out what happened to Donna. To find her girl and make her safe. We would have done such things for nothing.”
“Which is not a hint to delay sending funds,” Ellen said. “Like, at all.”
“I wish I had friends like you guys,” Rake said with bald honesty.
Delaney smiled. “Everyone does.”
Lillith tugged on his hand. “We agreed, remember? You and I are friends.”
Rake smiled down at her. “I remember. Now I just need five more of you.”
“Listen, why do you think we paired you and Lillith up as soon as the principals were in place? Who the hell would trust a kid with ten grand?”
Ellen’s hand shot up. “I know!”
“Former street kids,” Delaney said, ignoring Ellen’s hand waving. “Plus, look at her! Could she appear more disarming and cute?”
Lillith smirked.
“And who would view a notorious carefree playboy with suspicion?”
Rake snorted. “You Bruce Wayned me?”
“Oh, I like that,” Ellen said, nodding. “Yep. That’s exactly what happened. You’re pretty and careless and spend your money doing pretty, careless things. Hell, googling you brings up loads of pics of you with supermodels. And not a little public nudity.”
“I went to one Victoria’s Secret fashion show,” he mumbled.
“My point! Who’d ever think you were doing anything but being Rake Tarbell on vacation?”
“We made you guys as safe as we could by putting you together,” Delaney added. “But one thing I don’t get—Lillith?”
The girl broke off the “I’ve got no use for a pony, but I would like the latest MacBook Air, please” discussion with Mrs. Tarbell. “Yes?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had the flash drive? Why wait until we were literally under the gun?”
“That’s exactly what I waited for. Mama told me it was my spade, and to hold it for six months or until our backs were to the wall, whichever came first.” At their uncomprehending looks, the little girl elaborated. “Remember, Mama didn’t actually act on the information she hacked. She figured if that awful Mr. Kovac didn’t intrude in our lives within six months, he never would. But if he did intrude, and things got bad, then I was supposed to give it to un adulto fidato.”
“Your spade?” Delaney glanced at Ellen, who shrugged.
Rake laughed. “Your ace.”
“Oh. Yes, my ace.” Lillith shrugged. “I don’t play cards.”
“But I’ve been with you the whole time. Ever since I found you at the neighbor’s after I got your mom’s letter.”
“Delaney, I barely knew you. And my mother had just died. I’m smart, but I don’t get it right every time.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, darling,” the nuclear option said, glaring at literally everyone in the restaurant except Lillith.
“Abort,” Rake murmured to Delaney. “For the love of God, abort.”
Delaney surrendered. “Fine. Yes. Excellent point, Lillith. It’s not your fault that things got weird in a hurry.” She shook her head and laughed. “It wasn’t just Murphy’s law, it was Murphy’s ongoing disaster. First you gave me the slip in Lake Como—”
“I’m still vague on how I got to Venice.”
“—and then when I picked up your trail again, you jumped in the canal!”
“Fell, dammit! Do I have to write it on my forehead?”
“I mean—who could plan for that? Then once you were fished out, I clocked the new tail, so I had to leave Lillith and hope you guys would make it to the hotel while I played rodeo clown with the B team.”
“Nerve-racking?” Mrs. Tarbell guessed.
“Just a smidge. I was beyond relieved when you guys showed up at the Best Western.”
“You may well be the only person ever to be relieved to show up at a Best Western, dear.”
Delaney quirked an eyebrow at Mrs. Tarbell. “So when I think we’ve finally got stuff under control and I’m about to bring the hammer down on Kovac—”
“Under the guise of stuffing Easter baskets. Darling, you have had a week.”
“—Rake gets sick! Like, violently, flat-on-your-back, should-we-call-an-ambulance sick. Again: Who could plan for these variables? Frankly, I’m astonished that we’re all here to talk about it.”
“And don’t forget the Donna variable,” Ellen pointed out quietly. “She had everything ready to go: false IDs, paperwork, a reasonably good exit strategy, proof if Kovac got cute … only she died before she could do much more than send Delaney a letter. No one could have predicted that, either.”
“I’m terribly sorry about your friend. And your mother, Lillith. Perhaps the silver lining is that the accident set all of this in motion. And brought you to us,” Mrs. Tarbell added, hugging Lillith. “And … maybe accomplished something else.”
“Nonna, it’s a lot more subtle if you say something like that and don’t wink.”
“Oh, subtle.” Mrs. Tarbell waved it away. “Tosh.”
“This is the woman who clipped your wings and emptied your bank accounts,” Delaney teased. “And your brother’s. Overnight. After having you followed. Why were you expecting subtle, again?”
“Point. So you got Donna’s letter, found Lillith, and then found my grandmother?”
“Yes. And she agreed to help finance the Big Pipe Dream—conditionally, of course. But since there was a kid in play, she wanted to give you the monetary equivalent of a brisk shake first.”
“Blake, too, since Lillith’s presence would permanently impact his life as well.”
“That is an insane way of prepping me for fatherhood,” Rake announced. “Not just me. Anyone. It’s an insane way to get anyone ready for unexpected fatherhood.”
Or unclehood, Delaney thought. And I see we’re still not mentioning that possibility to Lillith. Perhaps the Tarbells think she’s had enough uncertainty in her short life. Either way, I guess it’s not my problem. Donna wanted her well looked after, but she was vague on specifics.…
Which was problematic. This dinner looked like the last scene in a sitcom where everyone talks about lessons learned and then leaves, only to reappear a week later for the next episode. For the first time in her life, Delaney didn’t want to disappear, never seen again by the mark(s) in question.
Maybe I’m catching gastroenteritis? It does seem pretty warm in here.…
“Insane!” Rake was still bitching, which she thought was kind of adorable. “Who does that? And how are you going to explain yourself to Blake when you see him in a couple of days? Don’t give me that look, Nonna. You had a ridiculous overreaction and treated your grown grandsons like adorable morons.”
“Se la scarpa si adatta…” Teresa murmured with a smirk.
“I’m going to ignore that snipe with dignity and grace,” he retorted. Then: “Oh, come on. Stop laughing. All of you!”
“Yes, don’t pick on Rake,” Delaney said, patting his arm. “He did the best he could with the tools at his disposal.”
“Thank you. Wait … no, hell with it, I’m taking your words at face value.”
Delaney laughed. “Oh my God, you’re still an adorably naïve doof, I love you.”
Pretty immediately, she felt the blood rush to her face. Whoa. Right out there in front of everyone.
Um.
What the hell do I do now?
Nothing, she decided. Because even if she’d blurted it out, it was true. She had no idea she could fall in love with Rake in just a week, but there it was. And the strangest/best thing was, no one at the table seemed to think she’d said anything strange, or that Rake was doing something odd by reaching out and taking her hand in his.
“So! I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think eight desserts are enough.”
Which, happily, was something else they could all agree on.