Page 60 of Twins for the Enemy

I knock again, trying to sound more intentional.

The door opens. I take a deep breath, ready to give Neal my itinerary, but it’s not Neal at the door.

Samson, with his long hair and lanky body, stares out at me. I can’t imagine how he’s survived so long as a drug dealer. It seems like other drug dealers will terrorize him for looking less dangerous than them.

Maybe the fact that he’s survived that world while looking forgettable should scare me more.

“Where’s Neal?” I ask.

“Your bro is here.” He cranes his head to look down the hallway, his eyes darting toward the stairways. “Your man that is friends with Delgado—he ain’t here, is he?”

I look down the hallway, almost half-expecting Kieran to arrive. But he wouldn’t be coming here to save me. He’d be coming to burn Neal alive.

It seems like a bad idea to leave now. A worse idea to stay.

But now Neal has the threat of Samson and the threat of Kieran stalking around him, and I can’t leave him with that.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“Your man made it clear that if I fucked around with you, he’d send Delgado after me. I’d rather not be slowly decapitated while I’m still breathing.”

“I won’t tell him,” I say. “I swear.”

“You can send your swears up your ass.”

“Farah?” Neal’s voice comes from inside the apartment. His hand appears on the door, and he opens it wider. His hair is sticking up indramatic angles, and deeper shadows are under his eyes, but he appears unharmed. “Samson, we should let her in. That guy is rich. She can get money from him.”

“I’m not letting her in,” Samson huffs. “Christ, it’s like you want Delgado to get me. Do you want that, Neal? You think you can eliminate your debt by eliminating me?”

“If you don’t get the money, the cartel is coming for you. Just let her in,” Neal says. “She won’t tell that guy. You know my word is good.”

“Your word is shit.”

But Samson steps away from the door.

I step inside, but Samson barely moves, putting us uncomfortably close to each other. After I close the door, the air feels thicker inside. I avoid Samson’s eyes, looking over at Neal.

“Are you good?” I ask. He nods but gives half of an attempt at a smile.

“So, you gonna get me this money?” Samson asks. “This buddy of Delgado’s? I’m adding even moreinterest now because your man put a threat on my head. A grand.”

“A thousand dollars?” I ask. “That’s—that’s not going to happen.”

“Call him,” Samson demands. “He’s sweet on you. He’ll give it to you.”

Two things settle in my mind like rocks in mud:

Kieran would give me the money. Standing back here with Samson, I remember Kieran’s rage at him grabbing me. But more than that, I can reach into the memory and feel that the rage was fueled by fear. He’d seen a threat to me and reacted.

Just like he’d reacted to Neal when he saw him as a threat to me.

The other thing is that I’m not going to call Kieran.

I’m not going to do it because I love him.

As damnable as it is, I love him too much to involve him anyfurther.

A smaller pebble settles next to this one: this is exactly how Neal should have felt about me. He shouldn’t have asked Samson to let me in. He should have told Samson to keep me out of their business.

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