Page 77 of Till Death Do Us Part

Petra mussed my hair. “Look who’s talking. Innocent little baby one.”

“I am not a little baby!” I laughed, swatting her hand.

“I’m taking the cat upstairs,” Vera said. “I think she’s hungry. Elaine will feed her.”

Petra rolled her eyes. “You and your wife can take care of your kitten together. Honestly…”

“Are you okay?” I said, once Vera left the room, craning my neck back to look at where Petra leaned on the back of my chair, a distant look on her face as she watched the screen move. “You and Vera both, coming back from a mission like the one you were on and just strolling in like everything’s fine…”

“Ah, it’s whatever. You know. Another day, another life-or-death car chase. I like it when things get down to the wire. It feels good when it’s tight.”

I raised my eyebrows. She frowned.

“I should have said that differently.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not the one who needs to fuck it out of her system after a mission. I just need a vigorous workout.”

Oh, no. That meant Vera was the one who needed to… and so the temporary arrangement was…

Which meant I knew what my sister was doing tonight. I was happy for her, but I didn’t want to know about it. It was a good thing this house was big. And well-insulated.

“There’s no way you squeezed a workout in already,” I said, and she chuckled.

“When I say vigorous, I mean vigorous. The gym’s just around the corner from this room. You haven’t checked it out?”

I scratched my head. “I’m not the athletic sort…”

“You can do upper-body workouts! Gotta do something about that stick-figure body of yours.”

“Hey. I’m not a stick figure.”

She grinned, standing up and flexing her arms playfully. “I do boxing.”

“I can see that…” No wonder she had arm muscles like that. And could fully just pick me up even with my chair.

“I just picture Vera’s face on the bag, and…” She punched the air, making a sound effect as she did. “And I go until it burns, just to feel something.”

Car chases to feel alive, fighting Vera just for the sake of it, exercising until it hurt just to feel something… I pursed my lips. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” She looked down over her body. “Did I get stabbed and forget about it again?”

“Again? No—I mean—you’re not. Just… emotionally. All that talk about just trying to feel alive…”

She let out a breath, slumping against the wall, and she raked a hand back through her hair. “Just been a rough couple years. I’m not gonna dump my shit on you.”

“You’ve got to talk to somebody.”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?”

I pouted. “Petra.”

She put her hands up, chuckling. “All right, all right. Drop the pouty face.” She looked away. “When I started with the Blackbirds, it was good. That’s how they get you, you know? Money and connections and everything. Beer. Women. That’s how they got me, anyway. I was good at what I did, and I felt like it. Then they kept raising the bar for what you had to do to still be good…” She rested her head on the wall, thumping her fist lightly on it at a steady rhythm. “But at least you’re still pretty good. And then at least you’re still good in your specialty. And then at least you’re still useful. Vaguely. Somewhat. And then the next thing you know, you’re doing everything you can, trying so fucking hard, and it’s never enough. All thanks to fucking Vera coming in and swiping it out from under me. If I’d been able to get that promotion…”

I spoke quietly. “Then it would have just been six months later that they decided you weren’t useful anymore.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t do great with talking about this kinda thing.”