Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“I would never have hurt her,” I said again.

“Hurt who—”

But Michael cut off Will’s question and glared at me, leaning forward. “When I wake up in the middle of the night, I expect to find Rika there,” he gritted out. “Not crying as she pounds the shit out of a punching bag downstairs at three o’clock in the morning because you made her feel ashamed of herself.”

He followed me down the step, crowding my space and trying to intimidate me. “And when I ask her what’s wrong,” he went on, “I don’t expect her to lie to me to protect you. What the hell is the matter with you? Why would you go so far?”

“She needs to be able to protect herself,” I told him. “She needs to be ready. She’s not your doll.”

“Don’t tell me what she is!”

“You said she was one of us!” I retorted. “She’s no different, right? You don’t coddle Will or me. ‘She’s an equal.’ That’s what you said. We’re her friends, too, and we have a stake in seeing her be able to protect herself. I’m not holding her fucking hand like she’s five years old.”

Michael darted forward, getting in my face. “You don’t get to make decisions about my woman.”

“Are you sure you do?” I shot back.

The dents between his eyebrows deepened. He was still pissed.

But I was the one who was right.

Michael fucking groomed Rika for years. Since they were kids, he played with her and mind-fucked her. He never handled her gently and always expected her to take care of herself and her own shit.

But now that she was his, he’d changed. We all fought our own battles, including Rika’s. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t doing her any good.

I heard the bones in his body crack as something tightened. If I were anyone else, he’d have hit me already.

If I were anyone else, he wouldn’t be scared to.

“Just try it,” I taunted him. “I dare you.”

He took a step closer, and so did I, neck to neck and eye to eye as we both stood our ground. I never stepped on Michael’s toes, and he never treaded too far on mine. He knew he wouldn’t win, so to save his pride I was always the first one to back off. On the few occasions we were angry with each other, anyway.

But I found myself not willing to relent this time. I didn’t mean to make Rika feel bad, but she shouldn’t feel comfortable, either. Not with Damon running around. I was right.

Sweat ran down my back, and we stared at each other, neither one of us blinking.

“Are you guys gonna get it on right now?” Will asked.

I hooded my eyes. For Christ’s sake.

Leave it to Will to crack a joke right now.

Heaving a sigh, I walked around Michael and looked between the two of them. “We have enemies. And the list grows every day. Rika should be just as alert as we are.”

The four of us had formed a corporation—Graymor Cristane—a combination of our last names—and Rika insisted on being an equal partner in the business. And in the group. She needed to know how to handle any threat.

But Michael turned toward me, shaking his head. “Damon’s gone.”

“No, Damon’s hiding,” I corrected him. “Have you stopped to ask yourself why?” I tossed a glance to Will before going back to Michael. “Why aren’t there any pictures of him online? Why aren’t the detectives able to find him to keep track of him like we asked them to? They’re not finding any hits on his credit cards, and his passport hasn’t shown any activity for the last year.”

I mean, assuming he’s not dead, why isn’t he showing up on anyone’s radar?

“Damon doesn’t hide,” I told them. “Why is he hiding now? He knows we’re not coming after him. Why isn’t he hitting clubs in Moscow or buying shit in Tokyo or being spotted in Hawaii or Fiji or L.A.?” My tone grew louder, more demanding. “Why is he invisible?”

Michael and Will were silent for a moment, their expressions pensive before Will finally answered. “Because he doesn’t want people to know where he is?”

“Exactly.” And then I met Michael’s eyes. “And why wouldn’t he want people to know where he is?”