A man like me can only hope for the words she utters, but they catch me off-balance. I stumble back, ripping my cock too quickly from her ass and making her whimper. She freezes. Her back is no longer rising and falling with the heavy breaths of earlier. She’s as shocked as I am. The statement tumbled from her mouth without premeditation. Unlike my usual type of woman, she didn’t express the ultimate sentiment of affection to manipulate me, because there’s nothing to manipulate. Her fate is sealed. The ring on her finger is the proof. She’s mine—forever—but the spontaneity of the words doesn’t make them truer than when Sylvia or Helga spoke them. This is what I trained her to think. To believe. Sex and emotions go hand in hand for women. My weapon with Valentina has always been sex, and her words confirmed I won the war. Yet, instead of feeling victorious, I feel like a jerk. Bleak, cold self-loath fills my gut.

Covering her body with mine, I fold my arms around her and give her the only thing that can make me feel better––the truth.

“You only think you love me because I trained you so.” I kiss her neck to soften the ugly deliverance.

Finally, her chest expands as she inhales. When she pushes up, I don’t prevent her.

She turns in my arms to face me. Pride clashes with embarrassment in her pretty, big eyes. “You’re right,” she lifts her chin, “because I hate you more.”

There it is, the naked truth, stripped from pretenses and a dollied-up version of our unconventional relationship when sex is taken out of the equation.

I cup her face. “I know, beautiful.”

The sad part is, I do. I always did. The minute I saw her and decided what I was going to do with her body, I knew she would hate me. I just wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt, and that comes as a surprise. Sure, I care about her like I’ve never cared about another woman, not even my ex-wife, but the plan was always to maintain my superior position of power over her. Feelings were not supposed to weaken me. How could I foresee this petite woman would make me feel so many different things in the short span of half a year?

I’m crowding her space, not backing away so she can move, but she’s not trying to escape. She faces me bravely with her pale cheeks and blurry eyes. I recognize the emotion in that expression. Defeat. It’s the point at which she realizes how utterly I’ve ruined her. She needs me, and she hates it, but she doesn’t shy away from the reality. She embraces the pain and makes it her own with that same sense of survival that allowed her to accept my ownership, give up on her dream, and carry my unwanted baby.

In return for her life and body, her dreams, and one-sided, warped love, I wrap my arms around her and give her comfort. She doesn’t deny herself the little I offer. She buries her face in my chest and leans against me, allowing me to support her weight. I scoop her up in my arms and lower her into the water before getting undressed and into the tub myself. I pull her back to my chest so that her head rests on my shoulder. The water covers everything except the contracted tips of her breasts that float like enticing cherries on the milky water. I lather soap into the sponge and drag it over her smooth shoulders and the crests of her breasts. I wash gently between her legs where it will be tender and rub my palms over the toned muscles of her thighs. It’s on her stomach where I linger the longest, folding my hands around the miracle unfolding in her womb.

I’m amazed that she allows me to touch her at all and pathetically grateful. I couldn’t come near Sylvia from the minute she fell pregnant to the day Carly was born. Reluctant to break the moment, I don’t have a choice when the water starts to cool. I pull the plug, help her from the tub, and hand her a towel. We dress silently, both lost in our thoughts. When I look back at her, my heart fills with an overwhelming, intense fucking sadness. Against the expanse of the window, she looks lost and unbelievingly neglected, a bride in my oversized clothes. Fragile, damaged, and irreparably broken.

“Come to bed.” It’s midday, but I want to hold her.

She blinks as if returning from someplace far. I don’t like it. Even the moments she retracts within her head are too far away for my liking. With the backdrop of the mountains and wild nature, she’s terrifyingly destructible. Small and vulnerable. The swell of her waist reminds me that her delicate condition makes her ten-fold more frail. An overpowering sense of protectiveness consumes me. The fear that something should happen to her or that I could lose her pushes a burning sensation up in my throat. The thought of anyone’s hands on her other than mine will drive me to my knees.

Suddenly, I need to know. I told myself if I could have her back it would be enough, that I wouldn’t ask questions, but I’m not strong enough to stand by my intention.

“In Durban, did you touch another man?”

She gives me a startled look. “No.”

“Nobody?”

“The only man who’s ever touched me is you.” She looks uncomfortable. “Except for that one time.”

I cross the floor and kiss her lips to shut her up. I don’t want her to think about the rape. Due to all of my energy having been focused on finding my runaway girl, I haven’t made progress with tracking her assailants. Enough of those thoughts. I took her body hard, and she needs to rest. Maybe I need to hold her more than she needs to be held, but it doesn’t matter. I take her hand and pull her down next to me on the bed. Fully clothed, I put my arms around her and cradle her against my body. She relaxes, her limbs molding around mine like puzzle pieces that fit just right.

“What would you like to do later?” I ask, stroking her hair.

“This is enough, Gabriel.”

I kiss the top of her head. It can never be enough. I can never get my fill of her, and that scares the fuck out of me.

We nap for a couple of hours, have a late lunch, and take one of the short hikes to the waterfall after I checked with the hotel guide that the walk isn’t too strenuous for my pregnant bride. The air and exercise do us both good. I needed to clear my head from Valentina’s gut-eating revelation of love and hate, and she has a glow on her too-pale cheeks when we get back at sunset. Not willing to share her with others, I selfishly order dinner to be served in front of the fireplace in our room. When the staff have cleared the dishes and stoked the fire, we play a game of Scrabble. Our behavior strikes me as odd. This isn’t something I’d ever have done with Sylvia, and certainly not on a honeymoon, but we aren’t a normal couple celebrating our newly taken vows.

Even if my need for Valentina is already fierce again, I take her to bed without fucking her. In her fragile state, I’m worried of wearing her out, and after this morning’s marathon tonight seems too soon. Despite not satisfying my sexual urge, I’m wholly and strangely content to simply sleep next to her, a definite first for me.

When the sun wakes me with a pale glow that sifts through the large windows of our room, I can’t pretend that our mountaintop castle of glass is forever, any longer. The fairy tale of last night is over. It’s time to go back to reality and all the problems our new situation will bring, including breaking the news to Magda and Carly. I start with Magda, sending her a text message to inform her we’re married. Let her make of it what she will.

Valentina is quiet on the way home. The first thing she does upon our arrival is to check on Charlie. Her worry was for nothing. He’s in his element, playing a game of cards with the off-duty guards in the staff quarters. The walk to the house seems like a good time to bring up our living arrangements.

“Charlie will live with us from now on.”

She stops dead and gapes at me.

“Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course, I am. I just assumed he’d go back to Kris.”

“You’re my wife. That makes him family. He can take one of the rooms upstairs. I’ll send someone for his things, today. You can take charge of redecorating or whatever it is you women do.”

“Thank you.” She squeezes my fingers.

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “I don’t want you to do anything strenuous while you’re pregnant. No physical labor.”

“I’m pregnant, not sick.”

“I won’t take risks with your health.”

At my stern tone, she remains quiet.

The clothing consultant is waiting for us at the house with a selection of pregnancy outfits for Valentina to choose from. I thought it easier for her to shop at home than do the tiring clothes hunting. It wasn’t my intention to stay while she tries on some of the dresses, but I find tremendous joy in sitting on the couch while she parades for me. Being conservative in her spending, I have to talk her into taking more than a couple of pants with adjustable waistbands and A-line dresses. My favorites are the fitted ones. It’ll show off her belly beautifully. Sitting there and watching her, my chest expands with pride. She’s going to make me a father, a precious gift I thought I’d never have again.

With the consultant gone, I hand Valentina the ideas I jotted down for her to start an animal rescue program, as well as a new phone. She’s a bright and ambitious woman. The last thing I want is for her to be bored. We rehired our old cleaning company plus a server for our evening meals, and Marie is back in the kitchen. My wife will not dirty her hands like she was forced to when my mother made her our maid.

Think of the devil, Magda walks into the lounge as Valentina tells me she’s going upstairs to change out of my clothes.

“Val.” Magda approaches stiffly. She doesn’t hug Valentina or kiss her cheek like she did with Sylvia when I brought her home after our wedding, but she makes an effort to be polite. “Welcome back.” She motions at Valentina’s stomach. “How are you?”

My petite wife’s hands fold over her belly in a protective manner. “I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Louw.”

“Call me Magda. We’re family now.”

“All right, Magda.”

Magda brushes her hands over her dress. “I’m going to be brutally honest, because there’s no other way of saying this. I’m not happy with the turn of events, but whatever our past, whatever your debt, that’s behind us. You’re a Louw, now, and family comes first. You’ll have all the benefits that come with our name, and in return I expect you to be loyal. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Magda is worried that Valentina will rat to the wrong people in government, people who abide by the law, or worse, our enemies.

I put an arm around Valentina’s waist. “She understands.”

“Good.” Magda looks between us. “I’m also not happy about the way you snuck off to tie the knot. And like this.” She motions at Valentina’s attire and pulls up her nose. “Really, Gabriel, shame on you to make a lady marry you in such a state. It should’ve been done properly, in a church, with guests, and with the public exposure my son deserves. The best we can do now is a newspaper announcement.”

I don’t argue, because she’s right. Shame on me. Like every other woman, Valentina deserved a pretty white dress, flowers, a three-layered cake, and the whole nine yards, but I was too frantic to secure her safety. Plus, I wanted those invisible handcuffs on her the second she was back in my bed, where she belongs.

“Well, then,” Magda gives a tight nod, “shout if you need anything.”

When my mother’s stifling presence is gone, I put my hands on Valentina’s shoulders and turn her to me. Her muscles slacken as the tension leaves her body. Magda makes her nervous.

I brush a thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek. “I have business to take care of this afternoon, and I won’t be home for dinner. I’m going over to Sylvia’s to break the news to Carly.”

Apprehension fills her eyes. “How will she take it?”

“She’ll be fine.” I give her a reassuring squeeze, even if I have my doubts. “If you’re going over to Kris’, or anywhere for that matter, the guards will go with you.”

She doesn’t contest the new invasion of her privacy. Valentina already knows when a battle is not worth fighting.

I kiss her lightly. “Call me if you need me or if you’re not feeling well.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says in a chastising tone.

I chuckle and kiss her again. She will be. She’s too strong to be anything else.

* * *

The air in the house is suffocating. No matter where I turn, Magda is there.

“What on earth are you wearing?” she exclaims when I come downstairs in a calf-length wool dress with boots. “This shows every roll and bulge on your body. You want to hide your stomach, not draw attention to it. Try a short dress that you can wear like a blouse over a pair of slacks, and go for flats. These heels,” she waves at my boots, “look like a prostitute costume for Halloween. A scarf is always good to round off your appearance. I’ll take you to Hermes in Sandton tomorrow. They have a new range in neutral colors for winter.”

In short, she wants me to dress like her. Ignoring her comments, I escape to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Marie enters with a bunch of coriander as I switch on the kettle.

“How are you doing, Marie?”

Her mouth droops on one side. “Shlut.”

It takes me a while to figure out what she said. Suddenly, my thirst for a warm drink is gone.

“Where’s Oscar?”

She doesn’t answer.

I find him sleeping on the dryer. “Hey, baby. I missed you.” I scratch behind his ear and am rewarded with a purr.

Curiosity drives me to my old quarters. The room is bare. The bed has been stripped, and the curtains are gone. It feels unreal to see the space so empty. A part of me belongs here. Strangely, I’m sentimental about my first intimate moments with Gabriel that took place in this room. I recall with uncanny clarity the first night he came to me. If he were a less skilled lover, would my reaction to him have been different? Somehow, I doubt it. The truth is I’m as attracted to Gabriel as I’m frightened of him. His darkness has long since invaded my heart, making me a soul mate to the unspeakable needs that drive him.

From far-off, Magda calls for me. I escape outside to see Bruno. At least he’s happy to have me back. After playing with him for a while, I follow the path to the staff quarters. Quincy is with Charlie.

He gets to his feet when I enter. “Mrs. Louw.”

“Please, I’m still Valentina.”

He gives a small nod. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, of course.” My smile is forced as I move to Charlie. “Still playing cards?”

“He plays a mean game of poker.” Quincy laughs. “He cleaned out the coin jar.”

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “I’ll take him off your hands as soon as I get back from Kris’.”

“No sweat. We’re having fun. Gabriel mentioned that you’d go. The guards are ready when you are. Shall I call Kris and let her know you’re on your way?”

“That will be kind, thank you.”

It took time getting used to Rhett or Quincy driving me around when Gabriel wasn’t available, but now I have an entourage of two cars and seven men.

“Isn’t this over the top?” I ask my driver.

He doesn’t answer, and for the rest of the way we’re silent.

Kris comes outside the minute we park. The men take up positions around the property.

“Val!” Kris takes me into a hug and holds me at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”

“Perfect.”

She glances at the men. “Are they really necessary?”

“Gabriel seems to think so. Let’s go inside.”

She takes my arm and leads me to the practice. “I cleared my schedule when Quincy called. I just have to finish the midday medications.”

“Oh, Kris, you shouldn’t have.” She needs the consultation money.

“I want to talk to you without interruptions.”

“I could’ve come tonight.”

“I couldn’t wait. Come on, take the tray.”

I take the tray with the pills, syrups, and syringes, and follow Kris to the hospital kennel. Boxes are stacked in the corner and on every free surface. Reading the labels, I shoot her a questioning look. “A computer? And printer?”

She administers an injection to a Pug. “More like computers and printers, as in plural.”

“Did your ship come in?” Nobody deserves it more than Kris. “Did you inherit money from a long-lost uncle?” I tease. “What happened?”

She finishes with the injection and closes the cage before turning to me. “Gabriel, that’s what happened.”

“What?”

She waves her arm at the boxes. “All of this is from him. It came last week. There are also an ECG and X-ray machine in the backroom.”

“Where are you going to put all this stuff?” The practice is bursting out of its seams as it is.

“An architect came to see me about plans for extending. The plans include a reeducation pool, Val.”

I gape at her. “Gabriel?”

“Yes.”

“Did you accept?”

“No.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to drive everything to the garbage dump if I don’t want it.” She carries on with her administrations.

“That sounds just like him.”

“Why did he do it?” she asks, wiping her hands on her overcoat and giving me a piercing look.

“He didn’t say?”

“Nothing.”

“Shall we have some tea?”

“All righty.”

We finish the round of medicine and go to the house. In the kitchen, she takes two beers from the fridge.

“No thanks. I’ll stick with tea.”

I switch on the kettle while she cracks open the can and watches me from under her lashes.

“What the fuck, Val?”

I sigh and lean against the counter. “I’m really, really sorry about running off with Charlie like that. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to put your life in danger.”

“Gabriel stormed in here looking like a madman. The guy is normally a freaky, frightening shit, but the way he looked that day scared the bejesus out of me. Why did you run?”

“I thought… I was worried he’d make me do something I didn’t want to.”

“Like what?”

I grapple for words, trying to find the most tactful ones.

“Like what, Val?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Jesus.” She turns her head to the ceiling and drags a hand over her face. When she locks eyes with me again, there’s sympathy in hers. Her gaze slips to my stomach. “How many months?”

“Four.”

“Too late for an abortion.”

“I didn’t want one.”

“Why not? Did you fucking plan it?”

I give her an incredulous look. “Of course not. I took my pill every day.” I fiddle with the teabag. “I don’t get where I went wrong.”

Her sigh is labored. “It happens. The pill isn’t one hundred percent effective. There’s always the one percent exception, but why did you let the pregnancy come this far? No one would’ve blamed you if you’d ended it. Your circumstances aren’t exactly normal.”

“It’s not the child’s fault.”

“Neither is it yours.” Her voice turns bitter. “It’s Gabriel Louw’s fault.”

“It takes two to tango.”

“I’m not naïve, Val.”

“He didn’t rape me.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Can you honestly tell me you gave him your consent?”

“Yes. Actually, I begged him.” I take down the tin with sugar so Kris won’t see the shame in my eyes.

“I told you he was fucking with your mind. Please don’t tell me you love him.”

I can’t face her. “I told him those exact words yesterday.”

“You did not.”

“I also said I hated him more.”

“What is this? A love-hate thing?” She walks to my side and lowers her head, searching for my eyes. “What do you think you have with him, Val? You still owe him money, and nine years of slave labor.”

I pour the water over the teabag. “He wrote all of that off.”

“Because of the baby?”

Cupping the mug, I turn to her. “We got married yesterday.”

Her jaw drops. Her gaze goes to the ring on my left hand. For several seconds, she only stares at it, as if she can’t make sense of what it is. Finally, she clasps a hand over her forehead and starts pacing the room. Neither of us speaks while she processes the news.

When she finally stops, it’s to stare at me with incomprehension. “Explain it to me, because I don’t get it.”

I shrug. “I’m going to have his baby. Making me family was the only way he could protect me.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You’re a member of the Louw family. You’re mafia, Val.”

“They’re not mafia. They’re loan sharks.”

“What the hell ever. Same difference. You married into the mob.”

“Well, it’s done. I can’t take it back.”

“Damn right, you can’t.” Her gaze shifts back to my stomach. “How does he feel about the baby?”

I swallow. “I’m sure he’s not ecstatic, but he was man enough to face his responsibility.” I don’t say marriage had a lot to do with Gabriel’s obsessive possessiveness of me.

She holds up a finger. “Let me get this straight. You found out you’re pregnant, but couldn’t get it over your heart to terminate it, and frightened that Gabriel would make you have an abortion, you ran, taking Charlie with you, because you knew Gabriel would come after him when he found you gone. And then?”

“Then I got Jerry––You remember my old neighbor?––to give me a car, and we drove to Durban. That’s where Gabriel eventually caught up with me.”

“And instead of killing you for running, he married you.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how fucked-up this sounds?”

“I know the situation isn’t ideal, but Charlie is safe, and so am I.”

“My God, Val, you’re going to be a mother. Is this what you want?”

“Maybe it’s not what I would’ve chosen, at least not for another few years, but it happened, and I’m dealing with it as best as I can.”

“What about your life?”

“What about it?”

“Is it going to be centered around the mistake you and Gabriel made?”

“My child is not a mistake.”

“That’s not what I meant. A life without love can get terribly lonely.”

“I’ll have my baby, won’t I?”

“I’m not sure you will.”

A feeling of dread creeps over me. “What do you mean?”

“You grew up with the business. You’re not stupid. This child will be Gabriel’s first and yours second. If his family is against you, they may not give you much of a say in how you raise him. In fact, if they want to, they can take him away from you.”

“He’s mine.” I put a hand on my stomach. “Nobody takes him away from me.”

“That’s not how the family works,” she says gently.

She’s right. Gabriel holds all the power, but I can’t face it. Not now.

“Listen, Val, just do me a favor. Get a job. Find something to occupy your mind, something that’ll make you happy.”

I sound immaturely bitter. “For in case I end up not having a child to take care of, you mean?”

“I care about you, kiddo. That’s all.”

“I know.” I look away. “Gabriel wants me to run a charity project for strays.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve kind of lost my passion.”

“Maybe it’ll come back.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. You know that, right? I just don’t want you to look at the situation with blinkers and get a shock when reality hits.”

“I know.”

“Hey,” she nudges me, “have you had lunch?”

“No.”

“How about I cook us something and we talk about disposable versus echo-friendly diapers?”

“I have a better idea. I’ll take you out to lunch and baby shopping.”

“Don’t grab the arm when I offer the little finger. There’s a big difference between talking and actually walking through aisles filled with bottles and pacifiers.”

“We’ll also talk about your new practice. Are you going to keep the equipment Gabriel sent?”

“I haven’t decided, yet.”

I leave the tepid tea on the counter and take her hand. “You’ll have to hire more people if you do.”

“And set up a baby playpen for when his mom comes to visit.”

I swipe at the tears building in my eyes. “Damn hormones.”

“Here.” She fishes a tissue from her pocket. “The best remedy to get over pregnancy hormones is tiramisu at Roma’s.”

“Yuk.” I make a face. “The thought alone of coffee liquor and cream makes me sick.”

“It’s for me, not you. Looks like I’ll need a double portion, today.”

A laugh bubbles from my throat. “You’re horrible.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

* * *

On the way to Berea, I call Dorothy Botha. The psychiatrist greets me by name when she answers.

I dive straight in. “I need advice. When’s a good time to call?”

“You can speak. I’m not with a patient.”

“I need to break important news to Carly, and I was wondering how to go about it.”

“What kind of news?”

“I got married, and my wife is pregnant.”

A silence follows. “Does Carly know about your relationship?”

“We kept it secret. She was our maid.”

“I see.” The silence stretches even longer. “Does Carly like her?”

“Let’s just say she doesn’t hate her. After what you said about Carly’s insecurity of losing me or her mother to a new spouse, I want to make sure I handle this correctly.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late. You handled it wrong the minute you decided to get married in secret. Carly hasn’t been a part of the unfolding relationship or the events that led to your decision.”

“Things were complicated. What do you suggest?”

“In a situation like this, I’d say go for honesty.”

“Impossible. This is not a rose-colored fairy tale, Ms. Botha.”

“If you can’t tell all the facts, be as honest as you can. Tell Carly why you excluded her and be frank about your feelings. It may help her to express how she feels about your rash decision. Expect a negative reaction, and whatever you do, don’t get upset. What she’ll need is love and understanding. Give her time to deal with the news and to adjust, but make it clear that your decision won’t change, if that’s the case. It’s important to show her stability and to reassure her that your love for her is unaffected.”

“So, I just blurt it out?”

“No, you use tact. Give her a prompt to prepare her, something like, ‘Carly, you remember Ms. So-And-So?’”

“Got it.”

“Good luck. I’ll chat to Carly about it during our next session.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Oh and congratulations.”

I rub my aching neck muscles when she hangs up. As I’ve said to myself so many times during the last few days, I only have myself to blame.

The first thing on my agenda is to have a word with Jerry. I’ve been looking for him ever since the burglary at Valentina’s old flat, the scruffy bachelor apartment I now own. The cockroach has been hiding from the day I took Valentina, but now that Magda has found him, he crawled out of the drainpipes, thinking he’s safe from me. There are things that don’t add up, and I want answers.

As per my instruction, Rhett and Quincy follow in the Merc. I needed privacy for the call I made to Ms. Botha. They park behind me in front of Jerry’s building. The beggars on the sidewalk recognize my face. They scatter when I exit. From windows higher up, mothers shout in Xhosa and Sotho for their children to run inside.

Scott, my mother’s bodyguard, gets out of the Merc with my two guys. This wasn’t the plan.

He greets me with a curt nod. “Mr. Louw.”

“Scott,” I say, acknowledging him, and turn to Rhett. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Mrs. Louw sent him with us.”

My mother has never sent a babysitter before, and she didn’t send Scott out of motherly concern for my wellbeing. I’ve been in situations a lot more dangerous than this one. In any event, we’re here, and I don’t want to waste time.

“Quincy, stay with the cars,” I instruct. We may be feared, but some dumb idiot or teenager on a drug high may get it into his head to steal the vehicles or the tires.

“Yes, boss.” He takes out his gun, making sure it’s visible.

“You guys come with me.”

We climb the rusted steps to Jerry’s floor. I pull my gun while Rhett bangs on the door.

“Who is it?” a voice calls from inside.

I don’t feel like breaking down a door, today, so I cock my head at Scott who replies.

“It’s Mrs. Louw’s guy, Scott.”

The key turns in the lock, and the door swings open. The minute the cockroach sees me, he reverses the action, trying to shut the door, but my foot is already wedged between the wall and the wood.

Knowing he’s trapped, he swallows and backs up into the room. “What do you want?”

We enter the interior that looks and smells surprisingly clean.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.” I close the door and lock it.

His eyes follow the action. “About what?”

“Where were you hiding these last few months?”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“No?” I move around the room, taking in the shelf above the television stacked with decks of cards and an early edition of Monopoly. I love this edition. Eloff Street, one of the main arteries of Hillbrow, is still a prized property in this board game.

“I was visiting family,” he says, his eyes darting between Rhett, Scott, and me.

“Right.” I lift the Monopoly lid. All the pieces, including the car, hat, shoe, iron, and cat, are there. “Or maybe you ran because you thought after taking Valentina I’d come for you.”

He utters a nervous laugh. “Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You took Charlie gambling, didn’t you?”

His face pales a shade, but he keeps up the bravado. “Where’s the sin in that?”

“Let’s see.” I take out the silver cat and study it in the light. “Maybe the fact that he’s got brain damage and doesn’t know the meaning of debt?”

The way he licks his lips reminds me of a lizard catching flies. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Why are you here, asking about this?”

“Who broke into Valentina’s flat?”

“I only heard about it from the neighbors. I told you, I wasn’t here.”

I advance on him, swinging the gun by the trigger guard. “Why did you give Valentina a stolen car?”

“Because I felt bad, okay?”

“Bad about getting her and her brother killed?”

He backtracks until his legs hit the couch. “You killed them?”

“I was going to, but you knew that.”

“I didn’t know for sure.” He lifts his palms. They’re sweaty and shaking. “Look, I didn’t know a goddamn thing. I only did what your mother told me to do.”

I freeze. I heard him perfectly well, but reflex makes me ask, “What?”

At the same time the word leaves my mouth, a shot rings out.