Everything went great.
The information we got about Saro was dead on. It didn’t take long before he made a little trip to his favorite club, and from there it was as simple as catching him in the alley out back.
He was the last loose end. With him gone, my family’s civil war would be down to only two factions: my people and Uncle Garen.
I thought we’d pulled it off until Lena showed her face.
That stupid fucking girl. I’m still angry thinking about it. What went through her head? Why would she stay around and watch when it was obvious what was going on?
Then she was dumb enough to get caught.
I’m so fucking frustrated when she walks into my safe house. The place is cleaned up and put back together, no more cash on the floor, no more ripped to shreds mattress. I even had the audacity to add some paintings on the walls. A bunch of overpriced bullshit.
I wanted to make the place feel more like a home.
In case she ever came over again.
Which is dumb, in retrospect.
Lena’s trembling as she faces me in the living room. I glare at her, trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. “Sit down,” I tell her.
She doesn’t. “I didn’t see anything,” she blurts out.
“That’s pretty much the exact wrong thing to say.”
“But it’s true. I mean, maybe not literally but whatever happened out there had nothing to do with me. I didn’t mean to—”
I hold up a hand and she stops chattering at me. It’s obvious she’s terrified, and I can’t blame her.
I haven’t decided whether I’m going to kill her or not.
Tigran would’ve done it already. If I hadn’t talked him out of hunting the girl down at the club, she’d be a corpse sinking alongside Saro in the harbor. Instead, I told my brother that I’d take care of this myself.
He was skeptical, but he trusts me.
I have the whole family to think about.
Frustration burns in my guts. I march into the kitchen and pour two drinks. I throw mine back and offer her the other.
“It’ll just make me more nervous,” she says, shifting between her feet.
I have hers too then. I’m not about to force the girl to drink if she doesn’t want to. Although I don’t know why I care.
I’m going to kill her.
It’s the only logical option here. She witnessed me and Tigran murder Saro. If she talks to the police and they decide to press charges, her story’s going to hold up. That would cause me a lot of fucking problems.
I’m the patron. I don’t get the luxury of caring whether some girl lives or dies. The future of the Brotherhood is bigger than me, than anyone, and I have to put the well-being of the organization before my personal feelings.
She’s nothing. Just some good pussy. That’s all.
Except when she looks at me with those big eyes of hers, all I want to do is walk over there, grab her by the hair, and dominate her mouth with mine.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should’ve killed her already. It’d be so easy. Break her neck, wrap her body in plastic, and carry her down into my car. She’d be gone, problem solved, Brotherhood protected.
“You’re going to work,” I say instead of strangling her to death.
She nods awkwardly. “That was the plan.”
“Even though you watched a man die there yesterday?”
“I can’t take time off.”
“Why not?”
“My mom’s sick. We really need the money.”
Sympathy echoes in my dark, cavernous heart. “How sick?”
“Cancer.”
I grunt and pour a third drink. She turns it down again. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” She watches me take a long sip, savoring the burn this time. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“I’m not trying to comfort you right now, little thief.” I rub my forehead, skull pounding. “Why’d you come outside?”
“There was an open door.” She says it like that explains everything.
“You really are a curious fucking mouse.”
“I can’t help myself. I got arrested one time because of it.”
“What’d you do?”
“Trespassing. I was doing a little urban exploring—”
“Exploring?”
“You know, abandoned buildings and stuff.” She seems to relax slightly as she starts talking faster. “I was really into it before my mom got sick, but getting arrested kind of soured it, and then Mom’s diagnosis, and now I guess I just don’t have time. I miss it though, you know? Going places you’re not supposed to go. Seeing things most people never get to see.”
“Beautiful abandoned warehouses. Must be lots of fun.”
“You’d be surprised. There are tons of forums and subreddits devoted to urban exploring.”
“What happened to the arrest?”
“Judge let me off with a warning.” She looks down at her feet. “I’m not a bad person, you know.”
I don’t know why, but I find that very fucking funny. I laugh softly and she looks up, gaze slightly hurt as I come around the counter.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“What’s so funny then?”
“I’m a bad person, little thief. I’m a very bad person.” She pales slightly. Fuck, she’s so delicate. Thick, auburn hair, full lips, a splash of freckles across her cheeks. A body I’d fucking kill for.
A body I might have to kill.
“You could’ve hurt me when you caught me in here last time, but you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. This is a different situation.”
“I promise I’m not going to talk. Really, I have no reason to.”
I let out a long breath. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
She shakes her head. “Not even a guess.” But there’s a look on her face.
“You want to know, don’t you?”
“No. I mean, it doesn’t matter.”
“It’s that curiosity thing again, isn’t it?”
“No. No!” She twitches slightly and looks away. “I can control it.”
I look up at the ceiling. This fucking girl. It’s like she wants to die.
“I’m in a bad position here. I don’t know if I can trust you. My instincts tell me to put a bullet in your head and make sure there’s no possible chance you’ll be a problem.”
“Please,” she whispers, blinking back tears. Her lower lip trembles. “My mom needs me right now.”
“I don’t want to do that,” I admit, not sure why the fuck I’m saying it out loud.
She meets my gaze and wipes her face. Her nose is a little snotty and it’s weirdly cute. She’s got a small stud piercing through her right nostril; I hadn’t even noticed until now.
“I can keep secrets. It’s what I do, right? I mean, I want to find them out, but then I heard them. I didn’t tell anyone about your money or your guns or even that I was in this place. I won’t tell them about what I saw.”
I want to believe her. I’m so fucking desperate to believe her. The last thing I want right now is to kill this girl. I’d rather pull her against me and taste her pretty lips and lick that nose piercing and make her say my fucking name.
But I’m a bad man and I don’t get to make selfish choices.
This is what I am. Sick, broken, torn to shreds between a dozen warring factions. The Brotherhood’s too tenuous and fractured right now to survive this girl making trouble.
I reach up to touch her. I’ll do it fast. Make it painless. Hell, I can be gentle when I need to be.
But I’m ruthless. My heart’s a stone, or whatever’s left of it.
Her mouth opens to say something else, but then she coughs lightly, and her skin turns even more pale.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, stepping back. “I think I’m about to puke.”
I stop moving toward her. “What?”
“I’ve been getting sick a lot lately. Oh, god, please—” She turns away and runs.
I stare after her for a beat before following. The bathroom door slams and I listen to her vomiting into the toilet and groaning in discomfort.
What the fuck?
I don’t know what to do. She gets sick again, spitting and groaning, and I knock gently.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she croaks and spews a third time.
I head into the kitchen and get her some water. Why the hell am I getting her water? I should shove her head in the toilet and fucking drown her. Instead, I knock softly and open when she doesn’t answer.
She’s sitting with her back to the wall. Sweat beads on her forehead, and she smiles gratefully when I hand her the glass.
“Small sips,” I say. Except why does that matter? I could kill her and be done with it.
“Thanks.” She drinks a bit and seems more embarrassed than unwell. “I’ll be fine now.”
“Has that been happening a lot?”
“Just lately. I think it’s acid reflux. Probably from stress.”
“I guess things with your mother haven’t been easy.”
“Not even a little bit.”
I get up and head back into the kitchen. There are saltines in the cabinet. I bring them back and make her eat a couple. Once she’s feeling better, I steer her to the living room, even though she claims she’s totally fine now.
I get her sitting, put a blanket on her, and make her put her feet up.
She looks small. Her hair’s a tangled mess, and I just listened to her vomit splatter against the water. There’s nothing less sexy than the smell of puke lingering in the air.
I kneel down in front of her and put my hands on her leg.
“Go back home,” I say, but that’s not right.
I should be saying, die, bitch.
“Really?”
“Stay in your apartment tonight and tomorrow. Don’t go anywhere until I tell you.”
“What about my job?”
“You don’t work there anymore.”
She frowns, but nods. “Okay. That’s fair.”
“Spend time with your mother.”
“Why? Are these, like, my final hours?”
“If I was going to kill you, I’d do it right now.”
I stare at her. She stares right back. Her lips are parted and her nostrils are flared and she’s scared as all hell. Her chest rises and falls, and fuck, she looks beautiful in that club outfit. She’s dressed for sex, or at least for good tips.
This is wrong. It’s all fucking wrong.
“Thanks? I think?” She licks her lips. Her tongue’s small and pink. “What happens after tomorrow?”
“I’ll come find you.”
“And then what?”
“And then you’ll still be alive if you’re lucky.” I squeeze her leg, but not too hard. “I’m trying to save your life. Do what I’m asking you to do.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll stay home.”
“Good.” I stand up and stop touching her. Why am I doing this right now? She’s a liability. She’s a fucking problem. “I hope you feel better.”
“Uhm. Thanks. I’m really fine though.”
I walk away. It’s like tearing tape from my hair. I want to stay and cradle her head in my lap and kiss her until everything’s okay, but I know that’s not how tonight will go if I stick around.
There are too many voices competing for space in my head.
Arsen the patron. Arsen the brother. Arsen the cousin, nephew, man.
I can’t say for sure which of those will win if I don’t get the fuck away from her.
“Wait! How are you going to get in touch with me if I’m not leaving my apartment?”
“I have your number.”
She frowns skeptically. “Seriously? Since when? I didn’t give it to you.”
“Since the moment you broke into my apartment.”
Then I get the hell out of there.
