“He was right. Being blind is a deadly handicap in the drug world.” She takes another sip. “So he moved me to Miami to handle his logistics. Only Davis knew I was blind there. And when Davis started to steal—”
“You were back on the hook again?”
“Davis took a very long time to die.” Her knees bend and she wraps her arms around her legs. “I had one choice. Do what I was told or follow in his footsteps.”
“So you came after me.” Placing my tumbler on the desk I push off my knees to stand. I walk around the narrow space fighting the urges pulsing through me. “I’ve wanted to nail this guy for so long now. I get so close… And he’s always five steps ahead of me.”
“He owns a lot of eyes,” she says softly. “And ears.”
Turning, I look at her. She’s more relaxed thanks to the scotch. I confess, it was part of my plan. Her pale hair hangs around her like a cape, and she’s pushed one side behind her ear. Her red lipstick is smeared on her full lips, and she’s so fucking beautiful. Even tired and battered, my body longs for hers. I want to hold her.
“How did he know about us?” I have to know how much she told him.
The saddest smile touches the corner of her mouth. She seems to be studying her fingers as she tells me. “I had a picture of us. I don’t remember who took it, but your arms were around me, and you were hugging me so tight. I was smiling, and there was just so much warmth and joy and… love… in that scrap of paper. I can still see it. I used to look at it at night before I’d fall asleep.”
“Jesus, Sass.” I toss back the rest of my scotch and consider a third.
Clearing her throat, she shakes away the nostalgia. “He took it from me. He’s always looking for new weapons.”
I’ve heard enough. I’m exhausted and I’m not ready to forgive her. I’m angry and tired and betrayed and so fucking torn up inside. I stop when I reach the door to the small room.
“I’m locking you in.” She doesn’t respond, and I keep going. “The windows are sealed, and the grounds are monitored by security cameras. You have a bathroom just there—the door beside the closet. I’ll be back in the morning.”
She only does a slight nod. “I’ll be here.”
“Get some sleep.” It’s the last thing I say before leaving. I pull the door shut and lock it.
It’s pretty damn familiar to the way I left her in her apartment earlier this evening. Only this time, I know she’s not going anywhere. This room only has two keys, and I have both of them.
Confrontation
Kass
Logan leaves, and I melt into a defeated puddle on the narrow cot. The scotch took the edge off the pain, but I’m still throbbing from the way he left me. He’s so angry, but more than that, I hurt him. Pain spilled from his voice like acid on my shredded insides.
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I don’t deserve to cry, but I can’t stop them flowing from my eyes.
“Oh, Logan,” I whisper, holding the thin blanket over my mouth. I don’t want him to hear me. I don’t want anyone to think I feel sorry for myself.
A long time ago I thought I was a good person. I took care of my brother, I listened to my aunt, I followed the rules. Good people don’t do what I’ve done. When life turns to shit, good people rise up and make noble choices. They don’t make deals with the devil and put their loved ones in danger.
Cameron… I scrub the heels of my hands over my face. He’s out there unprotected. Blix will kill me when he finds me, or manages to lure me out of this safe house. He’s a master at getting what he wants, and the best way to get me is to go after Cam. Logan is far away. I don’t have a phone… Oh, God! Please, please protect my little brother.
Pain, fear, despair all twist into a tight ball in my chest. Bending my legs, I press my forehead into my knees and repeat the words like a mantra. Please please please… As if I deserve any divine favors.
All I can hope is Blix will think they’re watching Cam, waiting for him to make a move in retaliation. All I can hope is maybe they are.
* * *
The creaking of my door rouses me. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m still clenched in a fetal position, and my last thought is still on my mind. Cameron…
“I brought you breakfast.” It’s Nesbit, the woman who washed my neck last night.
Her voice is stern, and I don’t move. I only listen as she puts a tray on the desk where Logan sat. I’m not hungry. I don’t deserve food, but the delicious scent of toast and bacon and coffee make my stomach growl loudly. I’m so embarrassed.
“Sit up and eat,” the woman snaps. “Do you need help?”
She grasps my shoulder, and I flinch. I push against the cot and slowly rise to a sitting position. No telling what I look like, considering I cried most of the night—when I wasn’t begging for divine intervention.