Page 21 of My Solemn Vow
“Clark. I think. Why?” I shake my head, raising a hand in a ‘what the fuck’ motion. In true Italian fashion, half of our conversation and tone is in the way we talk with our hands, so he should know I’m equally frustrated with him. “You’re being weird about a seven-year-old. Not a good look.”
“She looks exactly like Valor Cavanagh’s kid, Kerrianne,” he informs me, holding the photo out.
With a huff, I snatch it out of his hand. The little girl has bright green eyes and a slight red tinge to her brown hair. Even if it wasn’t completely stereotypical, it is believable that she’d be the daughter of the heir to the Irish Mob.
But I refuse to let him bring my work into the ridiculous family feud. “Well, she’s Kelsey Clark, so you’re wrong. I don’t know what you think the Cavanaghs are planning, but it’s notlike we’ve had bodies dropping all around us again. Right? The feud has been mostly quiet?”
Berto stays rigid. He doesn’t answer me.
Fuckin’ hell, we’re going back to war with the Cavanaghs.I set the photo back down on the table. Sure, I work under an ironclad pseudonym with a pristine set of false documents, but it’s because the Cavanaghs aren’t our only enemies. Discovering my true identity and planting a child in my classroom is elaborate and far fetched.Right?
He takes one long last look at it. “Kids all look the same at that age anyway. But I know those Irish bastards are up to something, more than usual.”
I don’t believe, not for a single minute, that Berto will let the idea that Kelsey is a Cavanagh go. But there’s nothing I can do, even though I want to, because if Berto wants to investigate it, he will. And I don’t doubt he’s about to incite another skirmish that’ll end in bloodshed.Moving home was a bad idea.
Apparently forgetting why he came to bug us, Berto heads back into the house. The foul mood mostly follows him.
Leticia jumps up from the couch and follows him to the door, looking down the hall — probably to make sure he’s not returning — before she runs back. This time she sits right next to me and picks up the picture of Kelsey. Extending her arm, she holds it out before us.
She whispers, “How weird would it be if you had a Cavanagh in your class? That would be dangerous, right?”
I roll my eyes.I’m so not entertaining this line of thinking.“There’s a reason I work under a pseudonym. It’s fine, how would anyone know? Besides, Berto has a hard time telling the little second and third cousins apart when they all get together. I hardly believe that he could possibly remember what Valor Cavanagh’s child looks like.”
“True.” Leticia lets out a huge sigh. “No, you’re right. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, it’s not like you’re a real soldier or anything.Berto and Gregorio make sure everyone knows that’s how they see it. Feud or not... no one is wasting their time on a schoolteacher. Even if you’re supposed to become his consigliere, we’re not likely targets.”
“Exactly.” I shake my head and keep working on the lessons but look back at the picture of Kelsey.
It’s not her. The school is elite but not that elite. We don’t even send the little cousins there. Berto is wrong. She can’t possibly be a Cavanagh.
11
ANTONELLA
THE TRUCE
Kelsey Clark and I are standing in the ‘safe zone’ after school, where kids wait for their pickups. It’s a viewing area with a big picture window that allows them to watch for their ride. And from a lifetime of being surrounded by bulletproof glass, I know it’s not a single bulletproof pane but two.
Bodyguards — in many cases, expensive ‘mannies,’ who do a lot of caring for the children of the elite — are the primary pickup and emergency contacts for the students here. I remember seeing the bodyguard type picking her up yesterday.
I take in the nervous child, who has only been in my classroom for two days. She seems to be taking her time to break out of her shell with her new classmates. Despite what Mrs. Neidermeister said, Kelsey has been nothing but respectful, most of all when talking to me.
Kelsey turns toward me, prying her eyes away from where she’s had them glued to the window. “I don’t know. Sean always picks me up, but he’s not here, and he didn’t text me that he’d be late. Do you think he’s okay?”
No. No, I don’t.The ‘danger’ warning in my brain is firing on all cylinders. I have only ever worked at elite schoolslike Rothschild-McClintock Magnet School, and never, not once, has a bodyguard or parent ever been late for pick up.
The rich, famous, and notorious are, in general, much more protective of their children than your regular parents. They pay through the teeth for that protection, and the paychecks for those bodyguards do not lend to one willingly being late or putting their ward’s safety on the line.
Kelsey holds her little black device out to me. The screen lights up, and I confirm there aren’t any messages or anything of that nature.
This isn’t good at all.The hair on the back of my neck, and all the way down my arms, stands on end.
“Let’s go call your family.” I give her a smile and offer her the device back. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than some traffic.”
A pit in my stomach has me wishing I had a sidearm with me. My nervousness is probably unwarranted because I’m in an elementary school. The most worrisome thing should be a pack of gum, but the call of danger singing to me says otherwise.
“Okay.” She bites her lips together.
I stand and, walking slowly, lead Kelsey to the office down the hallway from my classroom.
