"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Christmas comes barging into my flat, enraged.
"What do you want, Christmas?" I grumble, annoyed.
"You damn well what. We'll start with why the hell you're choosing to keep your occupation a secret. Now everyone has to walk on tiptoes around her to avoid spilling the beans. So I better have a good damn reason why I'm lying," he demands angrily. I frown at him further and gesture him to take a seat across from the chair I lounge in. I take a large puff of my cigar.
"Her mother. She was on her way here the night she died. I told her not to contact me- no we agreed she wouldn't contact me unless there was an emergency. Something was wrong. Very busy wrong. She didn't need me at all for 17 years, not even when she apparently endured abuse from another man. So whatever it was, it was bad. And it's likely my fault. So I can't tell Brenna what I do for a living without risking her freaking out and leaving. She needs help, and I can't do that if she knows everything. Sabrina would have wanted me to help her in any way I can without bringing her into my life. We agreed long ago it was too dangerous. The less she knows, the safer she'll be," I explain. Christmas seems pleased with the answer, and his pissed demeanor lessens slightly. But only slightly.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" He asks.
"About what?" Christmas gives me a deadpan look and I sigh. "Look, it was Sabrina's choice-"
"Bullshit. You were scared. Just admit it and we can move on. You were scared you'd be a shitty father, so you chose to be an absentee one. Not much of a difference there," he judges and I stand, ready to confront him if I have to.
"No. Sabrina and I were split up when she told me she was pregnant. I told her it was for the best if she kept the kid away from me."
"Why!" He stands too, yelling in my face.
"Because I already had endangered Sabrina, I couldn't bear to lose Brenna either!" I roar back. Christmas takes a step down, shocked.
"You care about her?" He asks, bewildered. I'm sure I look offended.
"It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Lee. Someone found Sabrina, was asking her questions about me. Turns out he was a contact for someone who wanted me dead. Thankfully, that someone has been taken care of. She could've died. He could've shot her then and there if he wanted to. I got lucky, but I realize if I wanted this life and to be with Sabrina, I had to make a choice. I could've very easily walked away from it all with Sabrina, but I still have my name. People would come after me regardless. So I had to walk away from her. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And then to do the same to Brenna, I don't think I ever forgave myself," I'm whispering by the time I'm done explaining. I take a staggering step back and flop back into the lounge chair. Christmas looks down at me, shocked.
"So you kept a close eye on them over the years?"
"Up until Brenna turned around ten. I figured if it had been ten years, they were going to be fine. I needed to move on. But clearly they weren't safe and I failed them. Sabrina is dead and I failed Brenna. As a father and as someone who deeply… loved her mother," I hesitate and finished my sentence. Christmas blew air out in shock.
"What's done is done. I understand now why you want to keep it a secret from her. I'll spread it around and tell the guys, they'll understand. But you can't beat yourself up for this-"
"My main goal now is figuring out who wanted Sabrina and why it's taken so long for me to find out. It has something to do with me but clearly whoever it is didn't care showing that off to me. It's so confusing," I put my head in my hands.
"I'm sure Brenna would like to help you with that-"
"The less she knows-"
"-the safer she'll be. I get it, I get it. Why didn't you ever tell me about her?" he prods. I raise an eyebrow.
"Did you honestly need to know?" Christmas thinks for a minute, and seems to realize that the information really was meaningless to him until today.
"I suppose not. But you should go back downstairs. Apologize. Poor kids thinks you hate her, all she wants is to get back on her feet quickly and be gone," he explains, but I'm still focusing on what he said about hating her.
"She thinks I hate her?"
"Can you blame her?"
I rise to my feet, headed toward the door to make this right. Christmas gets up behind me and follows me out of the flat. I quickly walk downstairs and everyone has resumed their usually nightly activities when we all hang out after a mission. Tool has finished tattooing her and she's nowhere in sight. He catches my eye at the top of the stairs and frowns.
"In her room," he mutters, and everyone gives me a disappointed look. Shit, she must be feeling awful about all this. I look at Christmas and he nods and walks past me, ready to explain my side of the story to everyone. I race back upstairs and to her room to see the door shut. I hesitate but knock softly. Silence.
"Come in!" she yells quietly. I open the door but don't see her. Her window is wide open, letting the cool autumn breeze in. It's a beautiful night out. She peeks her head around the corner of the window and I see she's sitting on the fire escape. And she's smoking. But when she sees me she squares her shoulders and starts to stand up.
"No it's ok, I just wanted to come talk to you. I'm sorry for storming off down there. All of this is just uncomfortable for me, and plus I didn't like hearing about what your mom had to go through with Gabe," I apologize sincerely, but she looks confused.
"I really didn't think anything of you storming away, if that's how you're putting it," her brows furrow but I can see she's just trying to put off how it hurt. I frown but decided against addressing it.
"How long did all that go on?" She sighs and takes a large puff of her cigarette before tossing it off the fire escape into the alley down below.
"She started dating Gabe when I was 16. Everything was fine at first, he seemed like a nice guy. Then he moved in. Quit his job. Started mooching off of us like some kind of blood-sucking leech-" she's cut off when we hear yelling downstairs. She stands with the same speed as I, and we both run downstairs. The drunk and belligerent bar owner from Brenna's work is downstairs with a giant knife, wielding it at my team.
"There she is! I want my goddamn money back!" he yells at her. Her brows furrow.
"How did you even know where I was?" she asks, sounding legitimately impressed. Wiley, the bar owner, looks offended.
"I've got friends," he whistles and four more guys come inside the garage. Tool stands up, grabbing a knife with him.
"This is my garage pal. I'm not too keen on your blood covering the floor, so do yourself a favor and get out," he threatens lowly, stepping up to him. Wiley looks around, and realizes he's out numbered. Then he grins and whistles once more, and the four men pull out guns. I curse to myself, realizing the closest guns were too far away in various drawers. We'd be gunned down before we could reach them.
Brenna's stance chances from not concerned to defensive, as she sucks in a breath.
"What's the problem, Wiley?" she asks in an even and calm tone. All eyes are on her.
"You stole money from my register. I saw the camera footage. You've done it for weeks," he hisses in her direction.
"And what would you propose is done about that?" she asks, cocking her head to the side. She's stalling him, my guess is trying to figure out a way out of this.
"I want it paid back, with interest. We can discuss the percentage back at the bar," he reaches forward and grabs her wrist roughly. She twists out of his grasp, and as he goes to slap her once more, she catches his hand mid-air.
"I took your shit for the last year because I needed the job. I don't anymore. And I don't need you. You want the money? Fine. But I'm not paying you interest, I'll pay to the exact penny I took," she sneers, her grip on his wrist like iron as he tries to reclaim his hand. Her jaw is clenched and her feet braced apart, like she's ready to fight. He manages to escape her grasp as she stares him down.
"No deal. My bar is on the cusp of closing. I want my money back with the percentage, or everyone here is dead," he counters, and the four men raise their guns. Everyone in the room smirks, not concerned still. Doc, Christmas, Tool, and Mars all have knives ready. I'll have to thank them later.
"Your bar is closing because your a drunken idiot that chases away your customers," she spats at him, and he grins.
"How about we play a little game called incentive?" he snaps his fingers and a man walks in with a young blonde girl with a gun to her head. I recognize her as the young girl from the bar before. Wiley grabs her and the gun, blasting in front of Brenna. Brenna's eyes widen.
"Reagan!" she gasps.
"Can you believe these assholes, Brenna?"
"So are you coming or not?" Wiley demands, cocking the gun to Reagan's head. Within the green wisps of her eyes, I see fiery hatred burning in them.
"I've got a better idea," she says under her breath. Wiley glares at her, and I see something silver in the palm of her hand. "Action salad!" she shouts, and Reagan ducks out of the way. Brenna throws a knife directly into Wiley's shoulder and he drops the gun at her feet. She grabs it and all of Wiley's men turn to her. Before they can shoot, knives come flying toward their chests and they're on the ground in two seconds flat. Brenna glances around, slightly mortified at all the bodies. I step in front of her line of sight of the bodies as she helps Reagan up. Wiley is groaning on the ground.
"Are you alright?" she asks Reagan.
"I think so. Thank you," she hugs her tightly and the two girls embrace briefly.
"What the hell is an action salad?" Toll Road asks.
"It's a made up item on Wiley's menu. Doesn't actually exist, but we shout it to each other to let one of us know when something is about to happen. Like a bar fight, Wiley is coming, etc," Brenna explains. Caesar looks impressed. I walk over to the cooler to grab Reagan a water when I hear a gun cock. Brenna is standing over Wiley, with the gun in her hand, pointing it at his head. I start to rush back over, but Tool puts a hand on her shoulder and it startles her.
"Trust me darlin, you don't want to do that. It'll send you down a dark road. Give me the gun," he asks softly. Her grip on the gun tightens.
"Why shouldn't I?" she says, her voice uneven. She's clearly uncomfortable holding a gun.
"Because you and I both know that as much as you want to do that, you know you shouldn't," he still has a hand on her shoulder, and while she may see it as a comforting gesture, I see it as a disarming stance. In case he needs to. Her hand lowers and she gives the gun back to him with defeat in her eyes.
"There's no need in feeling like that. I've got ya," he smiles and gives her a sideways hug. She smiles ever so slightly and nods. Tool walks away with the gun and hands it to me. He's about to say something when one of the men with a knife sticking out of his chest suddenly stands. With his gun pointed directly at Brenna.