Christian reached the second-floor landing. “Do you ever get the urge to drink booze? Or is the craving gone?”
He clutched the stone railing. “It gets easier with time. But days like this make it hard. Why? Is this about Raven?”
Christian put his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. “I’m sure you know all about Fletcher. She’s not ready to face him.”
“How’s she gonna face him when he’s on the loose?”
“That’s not what I mean. Facing what he did and how that changed her. Even if she found him and killed him, that wouldn’t put an end to it.”
“Really? Because it seems like putting a man six feet under is pretty final to me.”
“She’s not ready for that. Raven would brood and let those memories control her. ’Tis worse to be haunted by a ghost than a living monster. What’ll it take? What made it easy for you to quit drinking that one time and not all the times before?”
Crush stroked his goatee. “Almost dying and losing my daughter. I was drunk one night and swerving all over the damn place. I drove the wrong way on a one-way road and almost hit another car. I served some time, but the judge went easy on me. Sometimes you need a good kick in the ass by the Grim Reaper to figure out what you stand to lose. I couldn’t bring myself to make my baby an orphan. Losing her mother was some traumatic shit, and if she lost me, who would have been there to hold her at night when she woke up crying? Nobody, that’s who. Raven was my world. Still is. Sometimes you can’t talk a man off the ledge. You just gotta let him lean into the wind. I don’t know how to help whatever she’s going through now, but killing that bastard would be a good start. You out there searching for him? Because maybe she’s tired of looking over her shoulder.”
Christian marched down the stairs. “She won’t have to look over her shoulder as long as I’m around. You have my word on that.”
With every step, Crush’s pocket jingled. He was a noisy fella. Sometimes his knee would pop. It seemed absurd to believe this man was ever in a war. Weren’t Marines supposed to be stealthy and sneak up on their enemy? Crush sounded like a walking vending machine.
When they reached the first floor, Crush wiped his forehead and blew out a breath. “I can’t just go home and sit there. Can’t you tell her to call me? At least send a message?”
That posed a problem. Raven didn’t have a phone, and Viktor sure as shite wouldn’t want anyone knowing her hotel number. Aside from that, she wasn’t allowed to make personal calls. No sense in worrying the old man.
“Afraid not,” Christian said. “But you have my word that she’s alive and well, eating Chinese food.”
“And how would you know that?” Viktor interjected.
Christian shut his eyes, afraid to turn around. He didn’t make it a habit of tuning in to every sound within the mansion. Had he been listening, he would have heard Viktor approaching from behind the stairs.
Christian pivoted and greeted him with a respectful nod. “I’ll fill you in on the details later as it’s of a… sensitive nature.”
Viktor went to greet Crush and uncharacteristically offered his hand to shake. “Apologies. I did not know you were here, Mr. Graves. Can I offer you a drink?”
Crush gave him a firm handshake. “Just came to check on Raven, but it seems like she’s busy.”
“Da. Very busy. Perhaps we can arrange a dinner when she returns. I can show you some of my vintage wine.”
Crush brushed his hand over his mouth and hid his smile. “I appreciate that, but I don’t drink.”
“Of course. Cigars?”
“Always loved a good stogie,” Crush said with a chuckle. “Don’t tell Raven.”
“I’d offer you one now, but I’m afraid I have important business matters to attend to.”
“That’s okay. I need to head back to the shop. If it’s possible to get a message to Raven, can you have her call me? I don’t need to know what she’s doing or where she is, I just want to make sure she’s all right.”
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do.”
Crush clapped Christian on the shoulder as he headed to the door. “Put on a shirt. You’re not that good-looking.”
“Don’t tumble off your bike and crack your skull, Dad.”