Dani,

I feel kinda ridiculous writing this, but if you're reading these words, then I'm already dead. So I probably owe you an apology, because there's some shit I should have told you for a while. Some of it is personal, some of it concerns the kid, but all of it is stuff you need to know, and I'm sorry you gotta learn it like this.

Okay, business first. The cabin and the land around it are yours. I think it's about ten acres, all told. The lawyer who gave you this will know. I made sure they've got all the documentation and shit. I paid them enough that you shouldn't have any trouble taking possession. Everything on the property is yours, too. So's my house in town. You're the closest thing to family I've got left, so… there you go. Hope it gives you a safe place to raise your kid.

Second. I'd say it's a 90% chance that if I'm dead, it's because of what I'm about to tell you, so maybe keep this on the down low, okay? The truth is, I'm not a good man, Dani. You ever wonder why I never hit on you? That's why. I'm not good enough for you, and you got the kid to think of and… yeah. I'm just not.

When we got home from the 'Stan, it was kinda rough. We've talked about this, some. Nightmares, hypervigilance, basic-bitch PTSD shit. I know you deal with it too, sometimes. I gotta be honest, when you and I got back in touch after that first year and a half home, I was so fucking impressed and more than a little jealous of you. I almost didn't believe that you struggled at all, because you had your shit so together. You went to officer training, then fucking nursing school? You're a goddamn rockstar, Ellis.

All I could do was crawl into a bottle and piss my family's money away on unlicensed card battles.

Yeah, that's how it started. I know you knew about the drinking, but I never told you about the gambling. Long story short, I got in over my head. Way over my head to a guy named Hiro Landaine. Bookie connected to the Renfeldt family. He shows up to collect, and I'm thinking I'm going to lose my house or whatever, but he offers to hook me up with a deal.

Turns out, his boss is looking to branch out into a side operation, with the knowledge and consent of the Renfeldts. One that carries some risk of injury. Landaine looked up my service record, saw I was a medic, offered to let me work off my debt patching up their guys. I take the deal, because what the fuck else was I doing with my life? They actually paid me pretty well, and it's gotta be better than being homeless, right?

So things are okay for a while. Then Jake calls me on Drop Night. He says you're bad hurt, and can I help?

Fuck, Dani. You know I'd drop anything for you. So I do, and I bring you home, call my doctor contact to come fix your arm, etc. Then I get the story from the kid and all I can think is "Holy Shit, I'm fucked."

Because that side hustle I mentioned? It's a card trafficking racket, Dani. The guys I work for hunt down vulnerable deckbearers in order to take their cards. The guy who hit your place? We called him The Sniffer. He was one of theirs, and he'd use his cards to track other deckbearers and then take them out. He'd been doing it a long time. At least since the last Drop Night ten years ago, and when Landaine's boss found him, he brought him into the fold.

That was why I had to get you out of town so quickly. I mean, yeah, shit was going down with the Cobras and the Grimms, but that was just a smokescreen. I had to get you safe, and your kid safe. You're the only good thing left in my world, Dani, and I've always been so fucking proud of you for rising above all the shit we saw together.

So, anyway, once I got you settled out of town, I realize I've still got problems. Eventually, they're gonna track down The Sniffer and figure out where he was on Drop Night and it's gonna lead back to me. So I figure the best defense is a good offense. I got no loyalty to these assholes, so I make a call to the Noimoire PD Card Cops and offer to trade information.

I'm officially a confidential informant for Sergeant Rhett Walker. Bad enough I'm a drunk and a gambler, now I guess I'm a snitch too. ;) If I'm dead, I'll give you one guess as to who did it. Sgt says he can keep me safe, give me protection, but he's got no clue. Landaine's been fucking busy, and his network is everywhere in Noimoire and has spread even as far as Joliet, maybe further. I told him all this, and he said he'd check it out, but I believe that about as much as I believe that dancer Kandy down at the Sugar Shack when she says I'm special.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

You, though. You really are something special. I hope you fucking know that. I wish I were a better man, and had never gotten us into this fucked up mess. I'd take you and Jake and we'd run together somewhere Landaine and his assholes would never find us. Alaska, maybe?

Ah, who am I kidding? I've never even had the guts to ask you out. Guess we just weren't meant to be, sweetheart.

Enjoy the cabin and the house. Keep yourself and the kid safe. Remember me once in a while, ok?

I love you.

Berto

#

Dania let the letter fall to her lap and the tears fall freely from her eyes. She lifted her hands to cover her face and curled in, bending double and sobbing for the loss of a good man.

You are a good man, Berto. You ARE. I don't give a fuck what you thought about it. Goddamn it. Just… goddamn it, Berto!

She felt Jake's arms wrap around her shoulders, felt him guide her forehead to his chest. He was so young, but he held her with an echo of the man's strength he was starting to develop.

"Dani, I'm so sorry," Jake sobbed.

"I should have seen it," she whispered. "How could I not see it?"

"That he was in trouble?"

"That he loved me!" Dania didn't mean to yell at Jake, but the words exploded out of her. She shot up to her feet and strode toward the kitchen. "He was my best friend! My battle buddy. I thought we could tell each other everything! Why didn't he tell me this?"

"He didn't want you to know," Jake said. "He said it in the letter. He didn't think he was good enough for you. Especially once you had me to worry about." Dania turned back to see a pensive frown pass over Jake's face.

"Don't!" she said, her voice cracking like a whip as she stabbed a finger in his direction.

"Don't what?" Jake asked, his head whipping up and a little of his teenage defiance leaking into his voice.

"Don't you blame yourself. For Berto's idiocy, for the cards, for any of it. Okay? Just… don't, Jake. Please?" Her voice softened with every word, and tears spilled over her lower lids once more.

"Okay," Jake said. He got to his feet and walked over to hug her again. "I won't if you won't."

"I won't," she promised in a watery whisper. "Berto made his own choices. I just… I wish I would have known."

"Everyone pays tribute to my mother with secrets at some point," Machairi said. "Each has their own reasons. Your friend seemed an honorable man, Guardian. May he find rest in my mother's darkness."

"Thanks, Machairi," Dania whispered. Then she wrapped her arms around Jake's waist and squeezed. "And thank you, kiddo. I'm sorry I—"

"Don't be sorry. First we handle business, then we cry it out if necessary, right?"

Dania let go, and then smiled at this kid she loved with her whole heart. "Gods above and below, you're fucking smart, kid. Who taught you to be so fucking smart?"

He grinned. "You did."

"Huh. You're right, I did!" Though her heart ached and part of her wanted to crawl upstairs and dissolve into tears in the shower, Dania returned his smile. "Looks like I'm fucking smart, too. Okay. So, let's handle business."

Jake's smile faded and his eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. "I thought we had?"

"For the moment, but we still gotta figure some shit out," Dania said. "The lawyer said we've got to go back into town to claim the deed, and that's going to be dangerous. Especially if Berto is right about who killed him. Best-case scenario, we leave before dawn, get to the lawyer before noon, and come back here that night…" she trailed off with a sigh, and then shrugged.

"But?" Jake prompted.

"But when has anything ever gone according to the best-case scenario? No plan survives first contact with the enemy, kiddo. Remember that. So we'll take a few days and prepare. Assign our levels from the dungeon. Stack our decks. Practice with the targets we set up in the trees and go to town to get some more ammo. And then, we'll head in to Noimoire to go see Kyle fucking Wooten, Attorney-at-Law."

"You didn't like him, did you?"

"No."

"Why?" Jake cocked his head to the side like a puppy trying to understand something, and Dania bit her lip to keep from making the comparison out loud. This was serious, and he wouldn't appreciate being told he was adorable in the midst of "handling business."

Even if he was adorable.

"Because…I don't know. He was stupid, and tactless. He came out here unprepared and just fucking dropped the news of Berto's death like he was delivering the mail. Guy's a damn lawyer, for godssake. He should have more class than that—what?"

A tiny smile played over Jake's lips.

"You're pissed."

"Well, yeah!"

"No, but it's the kind of pissed that motivates you. I can tell by how many f-bombs you've dropped in the last couple of minutes. Dani's pissed, and shit's gonna get handled."

Dania met his eyes, and allowed herself a wintry smile.

"Fucking-A right, kid. So, let's talk about levels."