I PAUSED JUST inside the restaurant, taking in the posh surroundings. Crystal glinted everywhere, and the tablecloths shone bleached white. Subdued classical music tinkled through the room. My skin immediately started to itch.
I’d spent time in places like this before to get at various targets, but I’d never enjoyed it. At least I’d known how to dress for the part. I’d selected a modest purple evening gown that hung just below my knees. The neckline wasn’t necessarily revealing, though it wasn’t prudish either, dipping into a V that just barely accentuated my assets. To top off the look, I’d paired it with a gold necklace and earrings to match a shiny clutch I carried.
From the way the crew’s gazes had clung to me as I’d headed out, I knew I’d pulled off the look all right, even if I was way more comfortable in tees and sweatpants.
“There you are.” Damien Malik came up beside me, resting his hand briefly on the small of my back to guide me with him. “You look lovely, Rachel.”
My father looked taller than usual in his fitted black suit, with an air of authority I hadn’t seen him exercise all that much among family. Maybe he was displaying it now because of the company we’d have for this dinner. He’d just gotten back from a longer than usual stint handling political work in DC, and he’d wanted to introduce me to a couple of his close colleagues from the capitol.
I couldn’t say I was looking forward to meeting even more strangers, and these ones people I wasn’t even related to, but I could tell it meant a lot to my father. And it was part of really becoming Rachel Malik, if I wanted to fully embrace that role.
I just hoped the role of Rachel started to feel more like me.
“Just be yourself,” Damien assured me with a fatherly smile as we headed toward a table near the back of the room. “They’ll go easy on you. I think it’ll be good for you to have a deeper understanding of the work that occupies so much of my time. It affects the family in so many ways.”
“That makes sense,” I said. And it did affect all of the Maliks quite a bit. Like Carter deciding to give up baseball. Like the times when Iris was left to fend for herself when my grandparents visited, because Damien was out of town for the week. But Damien’s standing also supported that big house with its expansive property and all the activities that happened in and around it.
We stopped at a table where two men were already sitting, though they got to their feet to greet us. Both were a good match for my father: white, middle-aged, with an air of importance around them as if it never occurred to them that they might not get what they wanted, one way or another. An awful lot of my targets for the household had been people like that.
My skin itched again with that thought. I could only imagine what my father’s colleagues would think of my line of work.
Damien set his hand on my shoulder. “Clint, Gary, this is my daughter, Rachel. I’m so glad you’re finally getting to meet her at last.”
Clint, a portly man with bushy eyebrows and a beakish nose, dipped his head to me. “So am I. Such a lot of trouble and trauma on the way to you getting back to your family.” He smiled with what looked like genuine sympathy, but I couldn’t help feeling there was a patronizing edge to it. Like he thought I’d gotten myself kidnapped as a toddler out of some oversight of my own.
Gary, slim with a short, pointed beard, held out his hand for me to shake it. His grasp was as firm as I’d expect from his confident stance. “It’s a pleasure. I can already see the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, regardless of how you got there. Nature over nurture!”
“I’d like to think so,” Damien said with a chuckle, and we all sat down.
“So, you work with my father in Washington?” I ventured, feeling like I should make some effort to add to the conversation and show an interest in the two men.
“For well over a decade now,” Clint said, clapping his hand to my father’s back. “Couldn’t ask for a better ally among all the goons out there. Hard to find men with real integrity these days.”
I thought of the Hunter and all his insinuations, and then mentally kicked myself for giving that stranger’s accusations any space in my brain. Garrison hadn’t yet confirmed the exchange of favors that’d let me get the Maliks’ garden soil analyzed, but at this point, there was no reason to think it’d reveal any horrifying secrets.
“But I’d like to hear more about you,” Gary spoke up, tipping his head to me as the waitress went around filling our water glasses. “As much as you’re comfortable saying. Have you been able to settle in with your family all right after all this time?”
I would have bristled at the private question if he hadn’t spoken so gently. But then, he was a politician, so framing things in the right way to get the answers he wanted must have been second nature to him.
“I think so,” I said carefully. “We’ve only really just gotten started.”
My father patted the back of my chair. “I’d say that Rachel has been fitting in exceptionally well, considering the circumstances. She’s incredibly resilient.”
He didn’t even know the half of it, but part of me lit up at the praise despite myself. Noelle had barely acknowledged the strain she’d put me under. She’d taken it for granted that I’d get through everything she threw at me and every assignment I was sent on. But I had survived a hell of a lot.
Clint offered a sympathetic grimace. “You’d have to be. You’ve been through far more than any young lady—than anyone at all—should have to.”
“And let’s hope we see the perpetrators of that crime duly punished,” Gary said. “Thanks to your father’s work over the years, they’ll face more jail time than they would have when you were first taken. Although some feel even that isn’t enough. What are your thoughts on capital punishment?”
I held back a laugh. It hadn’t taken long for them to transition from personal condolences to political agendas, had it? I guessed that was probably how things worked in Washington.
I’d never really thought about whether I believed in the death sentence before. Legal forms of murder had been far removed from my existence. I’d have been much more likely to get killed by the people I was intending to do the same to myself than to be caught by law enforcement and sentenced.
But then, what did the Chaos Crew do—what did I intend to do from now on with my skills—other than dole out capital punishments of our own?
“I can see some cases where it might be necessary,” I said, still picking my words cautiously. I wasn’t sure where even my father stood on this subject. “The criminal world is a violent place. Anyone who gets all that involved must know that’s a risk they’re taking.”
Clint nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. Although there is some debate about which approach actually puts more strain on the taxpayer.”
“And the problems of false convictions,” Gary pointed out. “Can’t come back from a lethal injection if new evidence comes up later.”
“Well, you know that doesn’t happen very often.”
I cleared my throat, feeling the need to add a little of my own perspective… especially because in their eyes, my men and I were probably among the kind of criminals they’d imagine would get a sentence that severe. “I do think the evidence should be clear. And also the person’s motives need to be taken into consideration. Why they did what they did. What the consequences were.”
Gary hummed to himself, and I couldn’t tell whether it was approving or skeptical. His tone didn’t give much away. “You’re thinking of those hypothetical ‘stealing bread for the starving family’ situations.”
Well, no, I’d been thinking about the very non-hypothetical “assassins who take out fellow criminals” situation, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
Before I could figure out how to answer, Damien set his hand on the back of my chair again. He’d been watching the whole conversation thoughtfully, and his gaze lingered on my face for a moment before he spoke, as if he was evaluating what he’d seen from me so far. A nervous twitch ran down my back.
But all he said was, “Let’s not heap too much shop talk on Rachel all at once. She’s here to meet you as friends, not to have her political stances dissected.”
“What good are friends if you can’t talk politics, huh?” Clint winked at both of us. “I’m sure you must at least share your father’s stance on cracking down hard on the criminal element, especially after what you’ve experienced.”
Did Damien’s gaze get even more intent as he waited for my answer? My throat constricted just for a second. I did feel put on the spot now, and he wasn’t rescuing me this time.
“I’d definitely want to see the people who kidnapped me punished with the full force of the law,” I said. My law, delivered by my hands. “No one should steal a child from their home. It’s unforgiveable.”
Gary chuckled. “Only bread thieves can get off.”
I shifted in my chair, trying not to outright squirm. “I don’t know. I just think it depends on the crime and the reasons for it. Isn’t there a saying about how the punishment should fit the crime? It’s hard to make a blanket statement about all of it.”
But it did seem like my father believed you could. He wanted every criminal treated more harshly. I wasn’t sure he’d ever understand my perspective. Crimes had two sides, and I didn’t think Damien Malik had ever been put in the position to see the side opposite his own.
But then, after losing me the way he had for so long, maybe his vehemence was understandable.
“Absolutely,” he said now. “The trouble is that the laws have been too lenient across the board. The people who get away with too much vastly outnumber the few who were truly acting with what they thought were good intentions. Take theft—of anything, not specifically bread. Did you know that people don’t usually get more than five to ten years in jail for that crime? They’re taking away someone’s livelihood or rightfully earned belongings, and that’s all they face. I’m pushing for double that at least.”
I swallowed hard, thinking of the car I’d stolen—and then crashed—as I fled the household that first night. The one I’d grabbed in his own neighborhood to reach the crew in time to help defend them from the surprise attack? Would he have spoken that firmly if he’d known his daughter was a thief too?
Probably. He’d have excused my crime away thinking I’d needed to do it to save my life and those I cared about, that I was one of those rare exceptions. It was everything else I’d done in my life that he wouldn’t be able to explain away.
Trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him and hopefully end this line of conversation, I thought of the criminals I’d encountered over the past few weeks. The drug dealers who’d eagerly been packaging their product for the addicts they’d hooked. The movie-making gangsters who’d talked gleefully about murdering some guy for his camera equipment. The attackers who’d tried to kill the crew more than once, as recently as last week…
The man next to me couldn’t have hired paid killers, could he? Not with attitudes like the ones he was expressing now. It didn’t make any sense.
But why would someone else have wanted to murder the men of the Chaos Crew but not “the daughter”?
I shook those thoughts away and focused on my frustration with the underworld we’d come up against. “There are definitely a lot of people getting away with more than they should. I’d like to see a world where fewer innocent people get hurt.”
That response seemed to please Damien. His smile grew, and he nodded emphatically. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”
Just then, the server arrived with the appetizers we’d ordered. I couldn’t have been more grateful for the excuse to focus on doing something with my mouth other than hashing out the flaws of the justice system.
Thankfully, my father and his friends veered into other topics during the rest of the meal. Clint and Gary inquired about everything from my sports interests to how much of the city I’d seen, offering tips of landmarks to check out when I admitted I’d barely explored DC. “Don’t let them keep you holed up in your father’s hometown,” Clint said with a wave of his fork. “You’ve got the chance to see the world now.”
If only he knew how many countries I’d already visited. I’d probably been more places before I’d turned eighteen than he had in his entire life.
When all the food had been polished off and the check paid, we waved goodbye to the two men and I summoned an Uber, the nearest one a few minutes away. My father sat on a bench outside in the warm evening air to wait with me for it. He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him all evening.
“You did great in there,” he said as he gazed at the passing cars. “I know they can be a bit overwhelming. I hope you didn’t feel cornered at any point.”
I shrugged. If I had, it was for reasons he couldn’t have predicted and I couldn’t admit. “They weren’t that bad.”
“Your brother hates things like this. Not that he doesn’t agree with the policies we support; he just doesn’t see the point in talking about it. More of a doer. Which is important, but you can’t get permission to do without knowing how to talk the talk first.” Damien shook his head. “Your mother—she has a real knack for playing politics. I can tell you’re her daughter.” He glanced over at me. “You’re becoming an integral part of this family, aren’t you?”
Somehow that question felt more momentous than the actual words he’d used. “I’d like to think so,” I said. “It’s been wonderful having a family, a real one.”
As soon as I said those words, guilt stabbed through my gut. Julius had referred to me as part of the crew’s family. Maybe I wasn’t connected to them by genetics, but my bond with them was at least as real as anything I shared with the Maliks.
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Damien paused for a moment as if deciding what to say next. “We have a long-established legacy among the Maliks, one that goes back generations. I hope that as we become closer, that’s something I can introduce you to. We’d be honored to have you be a part of it.”
Something about his tone set my nerves prickling. I was already part of the family, wasn’t I? The way he phrased it made it sound almost like a cult or something that I’d be indoctrinated into.
He couldn’t mean it like that, though, right? He was just passionate about the family and what they stood for. I’d seen how close-knit and supportive the Maliks were.
“What kind of legacy?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Mostly in standing up for the innocents who need our protection, a lot like you said in there.” He smiled at me. “Dedicating ourselves to the public good has been an ongoing tradition that means a lot to us.”
Was that what the Hunter wanted to warn me about—that my family was dedicated to doing good? Inwardly, I rolled my eyes at that hoarse voice on the telephone with its ominous warnings. Sure, I’d still take a look at the soil, but there’d been no other indications of any kind of threat around the Maliks. Blaze hadn’t even found anything suspicious digging through their internet activity.
“Well, that sounds like the kind of legacy I could get behind,” I said, and my mind leapt to one specific crime I’d hoped he’d have more details about after all his time away from home. “I don’t suppose the investigation into my kidnappers has turned up any new leads? There’s still so much about that situation that I don’t understand.” And still so many people who needed to pay for the lives they’d upended.
My father sighed. “Unfortunately, the path seems to be very cold. Since you escaped without knowing where they’d been holding you before your trip, I think the investigators are stumped on where to even start. And your kidnappers were very effective in covering their tracks.”
His mouth twisted. “The worst menaces in society are getting increasingly difficult to pin down. All the more reason we need to crack down on them more than before. Make it clear that the consequences aren’t worth it, to stop others going down the same path. People who do such horrendous acts should never be allowed out of prison. They should rot and die there.”
Even though I wanted to destroy the people who’d wrenched me from my original life and forced me to become their tool, the vehemence in Damien’s voice made me tense. I couldn’t blame him for being angry, could I? He’d had his daughter ripped away from him, had to think I was dead for all these years. I wanted the people who’d orchestrated that loss dead too.
But there’d been a viciousness that’d crept into his tone that didn’t fit with the upstanding politician he usually presented himself as. He might talk as if his policies were for the greater good, but for him, it was clearly very personal as well. And I got the impression he wasn’t only talking about the specific criminals who’d taken me but all of them.
Including people like me and the Chaos Crew.
I didn’t have time to think of an appropriate response, because my Uber pulled up across from us just then. Damien walked me over and opened the door for me, getting a promise out of me to stop by the house for Sunday brunch. He was the total picture of a reserved gentleman again. His fond wave as he saw me off felt so normal it was hard to believe he’d been wishing death on the entire prison population just minutes ago.
He couldn’t realize how close his claims hit to home, and I hoped he never would.
My phone dinged, breaking me from my reverie. I glanced at the screen and found a text from Julius. Garrison’s contact is willing to meet with you. It’s time to swap some favors.
