Page 82 of The Art of Dying

“You should be here,” she said, quiet.

“Rough flight?” I asked.

“Just touched down this morning. We’re all here, Kitsch. We’re here for you.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll see you all back down range. Fallujah’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

Naomi didn’t speak for a full twenty seconds. “Okay, buddy. Okay. See you then.”

I knew that they were afraid to push, worried reality would hit and they’d lose me, too. I hated it, but I still had hope that if I stuck to playing crazy, they’d relax a little, comforted in the fact that my denial meant I still had something to live for. One day, I’d be able to tell them everything, and they’d realize I’d been telling the truth while keeping my family safe. They’d be angry, sure, but they’d forgive me. They’d understand.

• • •

Three months after the funeral, Tiger called me from somewhere tropical. Birds were cawing and singing in the background. I was envious that he was able to go off grid with his family, but we both knew I was the most familiar with our enemies, and had I not continued the hunt, our new way of life might not ever end.

“Are you living in a tree or what?” I asked.

“Something like that. Grant reported in. His cover as well as Gina’s have been established and are still intact. Gina made contact two weeks after your family arrived, and it’s going exactly as designed.”

“Maybe NEMESIS should shift its focus to witness protection.”

“I have my fingers in everything, Kitsch. How do you think I had all of this set up for you so quickly?”

“Figures,” I grumbled. “How are they?”

“They’re okay. Settling in. Wes is really liking the homeschool setup. Gina meets Mack… I mean Karen at the dog park Monday through Friday. They have dinners on Sundays.”

“Sounds like my wife.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“What’s there to be happy about? I need to retire so I can focus on finding Mason. Each day that goes by and I don’t erase these bastards is another day I’m away from my family. It was easier to track him before all of this, and now it’s like he’s just vanished without a trace.”

“This might sound crazy, but we’re talking about Mason, here. Have you considered maybe he is laying low because he’s grieving?”

I paused. “You think that’s it?”

“I mean, as far as he knows, Mack died and all his plans, delusions, and fantasies died with her. That’s a lot to unpack for someone who’s not grounded in reality.”

“He’s not getting his boo boos kissed by Mother Russia. No one’s seen him there in weeks.”

“So… where’s home for him? Where does he feel safe?”

My mouth fell open. My mind began flipping through scenarios and then I snapped it shut. “I’ll be stateside in three days. Get me on a plane, Tiger. I’m going back to Quincy.”

chapter twenty-three.

MackKaren

“You have a trained killer named Apollo,” I said, watching Gina’s Belgian Malinois run around the dog park. “And I have a wiener dog named Apple.” I watched Apple scamper away from my son, run in a circle around him and then run face-first into the fence.

Gina laughed, pulling her long, black hair into a low ponytail. “In your defense, you didn’t name her.”

“Correct, that would be Dylan’s fault.”

She squinted her eyes to shield them from the late afternoon sun. “I bet I could whip Apple into shape. The fiercest wiener in town.”

I laughed out loud, then covered my mouth. Gina wasn’t typically one to crack a joke, and we weren’t supposed to draw attention to ourselves.

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