Promises I Made by Michelle Zink Page A

sex. With Renee. With Marcus. With anybody. “So what? You stopped working together?”
    â€œI’m afraid it wasn’t as neat as that,” Marcus said, taking a drink from his cup. “Cormac left. But not before he stole the take from the biggest job we’d worked together.”
    â€œHe stole from you?”
    Marcus nodded. “We were supposed to meet after the job, but when I got there, he was gone. And so was the money, although he did leave a charming note.”
    I thought of the hours after the Fairchild con. Cormac and me arriving at the motel that was supposed to be our meeting spot, only to find a single gold bar and a note from Renee that simply read, I’m sorry.
    Talk about karma.
    â€œAh, I see I’ve struck a chord,” Marcus said, watching my face. “Did Renee make a similar exit, then?”
    I sat up straighter. I wasn’t telling him anything until I knew what he wanted from me—and what I could get in return.
    â€œI’m sorry for what Cormac did to you, but what does it have to do with me?”
    â€œVery little. The past is the past, after all.” He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “But it goes to our shared goal: you want information about Cormac and his sources, presumably to help Parker. I want the same thing.”
    â€œWhy? To get your money back?”
    He laughed. “We both know how Cormac spends money. Not to mention the woman who called herself your mother.” He shook his head. “No, I’m sure the money from our joint venture is long gone.”
    â€œThen what?”
    He met my eyes, and I had the feeling he was thinking, trying to decide how much to tell me. “It’s like I said: our goals are aligned, if not exactly the same. You see, I don’t just want information on Cormac.” He hesitated. “I want to bury him.”

Sixteen
    I leaned back in my chair and turned my eyes to the beach. People rode by on bikes, glided past on Rollerblades. Little kids made their way to the sand with buckets and shovels in hand, hats on their heads to protect them from sunburn, and teenagers talked and flirted as they leaned against the concrete wall that lined the strand.
    I didn’t belong here. I would never be that carefree. Would never really be young again. My only chance was a fresh start somewhere, and I couldn’t get that without my freedom. Mine and Parker’s. I couldn’t stay with Selena forever, and I couldn’t get a job or even finish high school without a new fake ID, a purchase that was way out of reach with the little bit of money I had left, assuming I could even find someone to do it.
    The only way to freedom was to out Cormac’s sources inexchange for amnesty, but thanks to my apathy in the years I’d been with him and Renee, I couldn’t do it by myself. I didn’t even have a starting a point. I needed help, and the pickings were pretty slim.
    I looked back at Marcus. “How do I know you won’t bail on me, too?”
    Something seemed to soften in his eyes. “I suppose you don’t,” he said. “I can only tell you that I’m not Cormac. Our . . . philosophical differences were the thing that drove a wedge between us. Cormac has no boundaries, no rules. Nothing was ever off-limits.” He rubbed the scruff at his chin. “I am considerably older than Cormac, and I like to think I’ve learned a few things that he hasn’t. One of them is that you can only chip away at your own soul for so long before it crumbles. And once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.” He shook his head. “There are some things I just won’t do, but since I don’t expect you to believe me, perhaps you can rely on good old common sense.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œCormac spent the last year of our alliance developing his own sources. That’s part of why it took me so long to find him. You’re