“In that case—what?” One blink of my eyes and he’s a different man. The Josh I knew five years ago never would have done this. He would have broken before he bent. He’s changed. My lungs fill with sweet possibility. This feels momentous, and it is. It absolutely is.
He crosses the room so I can see his eyes with a crystal clarity. “I agree. You should come with me.” But even in the afterglow of victory, I know that this isn’t just about Josh growing up. It’s also about fear. Fear for my safety, I realize when he leads me out of the gym at a fast clip. I saw it in his eyes.
Josh
Caleb lives on Frenchman Street in the Marigny, in a three-bedroom apartment on top of a famous tattoo shop. The fucking prick has been hiding in plain sight for years. I suppose he thinks that if he plays the part of a popular society man, people will forget about the fact that he’s a murderer and betrays this country on a regular basis. Fucker.
I wouldn’t come here if I had any other choice. But Caleb and I don’t chat on the phone anymore. I have his address so North Security can keep tabs on him and step in if he tries any especially egregious bullshit. We let him run drugs, because I’m not the world’s goddamn mommy. I stop him from dealing in weapons or humans, though.
He’s not happy to see me when he opens the door to his apartment. I kick it open another foot before he can shut us out. “You really take the bolt off the chain without checking the hole? You’re going to get killed making stupid mistakes like that.”
“Fuck you,” he says.
“That’s original.” I keep up the running commentary while we stroll in the front door. Caleb scowls at the both of us, standing back with his arm sarcastically extended to usher us in. He pushes the door shut not a second too soon.
“What do you want, North?”
“Heard from Connor lately?” I stretch my arms above my head, which has the intended effect of reminding Caleb about the gun I keep tucked in my waistband for occasions like this.
“No.” Caleb’s eyes flick toward the ceiling. The fucker still has the balls to roll his eyes at me. “You made sure of that.”
“I’m only checking because Connor’s been harassing your sister. You should see the threats he sends her in the mail. Really choice stuff.” For the first time Caleb’s eyes slide to Bethany. She faces him head-on, arms crossed over her chest.
“Is that true?” His voice has a shake to it I recognize. It’s abject fury.
Bethany nods.
Caleb looks back at me. “And what the fuck are you doing hanging around her? I’ve got people to watch her for when she needs protection.”
“Well, they’ve been doing a shit job, since one of the letters got hand delivered to her locker. And you don’t appear to have heard about any of this. Admit it, Caleb. Was it Connor? Are you two having a little fun, like in the old days?”
Caleb stabs a finger at my face. “You don’t have the right. You don’t have the fucking right to be anywhere near her, you piece of—”
“This is why we came here?” Bethany puts her hands on her hips. “So you could have yourselves a pissing contest in front of me? Are you serious?”
“I’m your brother,” Caleb says with a growl.
“You’re domineering.” She glares at me. “So are you. Both of you are bastards.”
“No argument here, sweetheart.” I give her a wink, mostly to annoy Caleb.
“Neither of you get to control me. Neither of you have any rights on me except what I agree to.” Her dark eyes pin me to the wall. “And I have a performance.”
Caleb doesn’t want to blink first, and neither do I. We both let Bethany walk out the door. Noah’s waiting in the car downstairs. He’ll watch over her for a few minutes. We need to work something out, man to man. Bastard to bastard.
Her footsteps fade to nothing. Then it’s just me and him.
“You fucking her?” he asks.
“Like she said, that’s none of your business.”
“She’s my little sister. I protected her before you even knew she existed. Now you think you can take over because you have a goddamn Escalade and a government contract? I know what you really want.”
I step forward, putting my face an inch away from his. This is the language that bullies understand. It’s the language that I speak more fluently than English. “Because I want your sister’s pussy? Yeah. You didn’t need Mamere’s crystal ball to figure that one out. So what are you going to do about it?”
A vein pulses in his forehead. “I can kill you. I can ruin you. I can—”
“You can stop running your mouth for a goddamn second, and answer a question. Before you puff up your chest anymore, know this: your sister’s safety is at stake. Have you had any contact with Connor?”