Dinners have really fallen to the wayside around here since my sister left.
Carry-in every night and it’s fine but it’s just not the same as a home-cooked meal.
Indian tonight, good enough I suppose.
I’ve never had to organise meals for anyone before so I tend to over-cater.
“Did you do a headcount before you ordered?” Christian looks over at me and I glance around the room.
Christian pulls out ten containers of butter chicken.
“There are eight of us,” he tells me as he unpacks five lamb saagwalas and four chicken kormas.
I roll my eyes, shrugging as I sit down.
And then there’s this weird ripple through the room and everyone goes quiet. Romeo kicks me under the table and I look up.
In the doorway of my dining room is my baby sister and her policeman boyfriend.
“Well,” I say, pulling my gun out and laying it down on the table. Hope she sees it as a proper threat and not the hollow one it really is. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Daisy’s eyes flicker around the room and she frowns at the table. “How much food did you order?”
Annoying.
“The perfect amount.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“For what, all of Cambodia?”
Christian licks away a smile.
She walks over to the table — everyone’s sort of frozen, like they’re watching a ghost.
Rome won’t look her in the eyes. Hates her more than I do. Which, I guess, is maybe not at all.
She looks closer at the food on the table. “Is this Karma Marsala?” She sounds horrified.
“Yes.” I frown.
“Why wouldn’t you order from Khan’s?”
“Because Karma Marsala is fine.” I shrug.
“Khan’s is better, though,” Kekoa jumps in.
“Yeah.” TK nods.
And I roll my eyes and — fuck — I take it back — I do hate her.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her, standing.
She opens her mouth to say something then notices LJ at my feet.
“Did you get a dog?” She rushes towards him.
“Don’t—” I shake my head. “He’s a guard dog, Daisy. He can be vicious — really not good with stran—”
She drops to the ground to pet him and he — the fucking traitor — rolls over so she can scratch his fucking stomach.
(“That’s embarrassing for you,” Koa whispers.)
“He’s so cute!” Daisy coos. “What’s his name?”
“LJ,” I grunt, glaring down at him.
“Oh, why?” she says, not looking up at me.
“Little Julian.”
Now she looks up at me, frowning. “You’re such a fucking narcissist.”
“I am not—”
“Why wouldn’t you give him a proper name?”
“That is a proper name!”
“You don’t have to make everything about you—”
“He’s my fucking dog!” I yell louder than I need to.
She stands up, walks back over to Tiller and then — can you believe it — the bloody dog follows after her, tail wagging and all.
I once saw him bite off the ear of a crooked cop in Brazil.
“Why the fuck are you here?” I ask loudly — ignoring the look half the room throws me for talking to her like that.
She stands in front of Tiller, shielding him with herself.
Probably smart. I know Rome would kill him in a second if I gave him the chance.
“Are you sending me flowers?” she asks.
I look her up and down and scoff. “You’re taking the piss, yeah?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Are you, yes or no?”
“Why the fuck would I send you flowers?” I spit.
“I don’t know—” Tiller steps around her, glaring over at me. “Maybe because she saved your fucking life?”
“Oh.” I lift my eyebrows. “Look who found his voice.”
Daisy grabs Tiller by the wrist. “Let’s just go—” She tugs him away but he doesn’t move and locks eyes with me over her head.
“Someone’s sending her flowers,” Tiller tells me and Christian frowns over at him.
“So?” Declan asks.
“Who gives a shit?” Romeo chimes in and he and Daisy catch eyes. She looks sad, he looks hurt. Soon they’ll trade places, it’s just the dance they do.
Tiller doesn’t give a fuck either way. He doesn’t seem phased that he’s in a room with London’s most wanted — he’s just focused on me.
“They leave them on our doorstep,” he says.
Christian flinches at the ‘our’ in that sentence. He hasn’t let it go. Noticed that Daisy doesn’t even look at him and I can tell that he thinks that means she’s past him but he doesn’t know her face like I do. I can tell by how she’s blinking that she’s barely holding it together and if she looks at him she’ll lose it.
“Right.” I nod. “But they’re flowers, not grenades, so…”
“I want to leave—” She stares up at Tiller, her eyes raw as she tugs at his sleeve, and you know that pain you get that shoots through your bones when you’re fucking up and you know you’re fucking up and you’re hurting someone you love but for some reason you can’t stop? That happens.
Tiller’s gaze doesn’t change but he reaches for her and pulls her behind him, holding her hand. Shielding her from me, and about half of the room tenses up.
“They started off as roses—”
“Ooh.” I roll my eyes. “Shit, that does sound dangerous.”
“Fuck you,” Daisy says poking her head out to glare at me.
“It was roses for months — right, Dais?” Tiller looks back at her.
“About three,” she tells him. Him not me. I’ve lost eye contact privileges with her now.
“Today there were daisies in her locker at the hospital—” He continues and a frown breezes over my face. Don’t like that.
“And then this was at the front door when I got home.”
He tosses a box down on the table in front of me.
I give him a long, unimpressed look before I gruffly knock off the lid.
Mulched daisies.
My stomach lurches. Feel sick. It’s definitely a threat. Don’t let it show on my face though.
I look back over at my sister. “What’s the problem? You love crafts, just use it for potpourri.”
She sniffs out this laugh that’s all hurt, zero finding anything funny, then turns and walks out.
Tiller juts out his chin and nods a few times. “Just imagine if you were even a quarter of the man she talks about you being…”
He gives me this flash of a smile, like he’s disappointed in me — don’t know why that stung but it did — and then he walks after her.
I wait for the front door to slam shut and then I look over at Christian.
“Is it you?”
“No.” He frowns. He looks worried.
I look over at Rome. “You?”
He shakes his head, swallows nervous. This’ll fuck with his head too. In his mind, no one’s allowed to hurt Dais but him.
I nod my chin at Decks and he rolls his eyes. “Fuck off—”
“Right then.” I nod. “Everything else stops — call every florist, gardener, every botanist, every fucking horticulturalist on the British Isles who’s grown or sold roses and daisies in the last three months.” I look at Miguel. “How the fuck did you miss this?”
This offends him, I can tell. He frowns at me. “She doesn’t let me inside.”
“Force yourself in then.” I bark.
He rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’d go over well.”
I give him a look and point to the door, nodding after her. “On your fucking bike, mate. Pip pip.”
Miguel glares at me again but stands up and walks out.
“Roses and daisies are pretty common flowers to send,” Declan says carefully.
I shake my head at him. “I hella don’t give a fuck, bruv—” I flick my eyes around the room. “Find them. Get the Boroughs on the horn — you ask anyone we’ve ever known if they’ve sent my fucking sister flowers.”
Everyone nods and disperses, but not Christian. He stares over at me, looks annoyed. Leans back in his chair.
“Feels like an overreaction,” he tells me, eyebrows up.
I mirror his face. “Does it?”
He shrugs. “Especially when you made her think you don’t give a shit…”
“I don’t give a shit—” I lie, trying to palm it off with an indifferent smile.
Christian sniffs, amused. “Well, you clearly do…”
I shake my head. “She sold me out—”
He picks something out of his teeth. “You broke her rules.”
“I raised her,” I counter.
“Yeah—” He stands, annoyed. “And she saved your dying-life on a table in her spare room.”
I squint over at him. “What’s your point?”
“Just tell her you’re sorry!” he says, exasperated.
“Fuck off,” I grunt.
“You could have fixed it, Jules — not made her feel like fucking joke when she’s scared of something. She might have come home—”
“Don’t want her to come home,” I lie again.
“Alright.” He nods, annoyed. “Give denial another crack then, we’ll see how that goes—”
“Just find out who sent them,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I don’t work for you.”
“Yeah?” I pull my head back. “You are in love with her though, so probably worth your time either way.”
“Yeah, okay.” He shrugs, gives me a look as he gestures over at me. “But you love her too, so why don’t you grow the fuck up and start acting like it.”
