“Where’s Kace?” I ask in greeting, confused at why I’d even ask that. I’m floundering and need to understand the dynamic around here.
Colin’s expression is unreadable. The man beside him simply smirks, and Greer flashes me a disgusted glare.
“We don’t fraternize with the help,” Colin says in a cool, authoritative tone.
“The help? Is he a cook? A maid?” My words sound stupid even to my own ears, but I can’t stop them. “What does he help with?”
“Kace is a whore, Alister,” Colin clips out. “They come around at night and are gone by morning. We certainly don’t have breakfast with them.”
I swallow down my unease, nodding as if his answer satisfies me. I’m just making it to the empty seat when Greer spits out his words.
“If you wanted to fuck my whore, you should have just asked.” He pops a piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing slowly as he rakes his gaze down my front. “I share my toys.”
I give him a sharp shake of my head. “I…I don’t want—”
Colin cuts me off with a wave. “They’re not his toys. They’re mine.” The table goes silent. “And I’ll get you your own toy.”
“No,” I croak out. “I’m…” I’m in a relationship? Hardly. Considering I left the man I love the second things got rough, I’m most definitely not in one.
Colin lifts a brow in question but smirks when I don’t finish my statement. “This is Mark.” The guy to his right nods. “You know Greer. The other two are Seth and Logan. These are my most trusted men. If you need anything and I’m unavailable, they’ll see to it you get what you want.”
“Okay, er, Pops?”
Colin’s eyes that match mine exactly darken at the questioning tone, but he lets it slide. As I load up my plate with food, he fills his men in on a shipment from Mexico arriving this week. I try to tune it out because I don’t care about his drug business. It’s not until the dining room falls silent that I realize Colin is speaking to me.
“Uh, what?”
“If you sit at this table, you will join in on the conversation,” Colin says in an icy tone. “I gave you the night to get acclimated, but it’s time you focus. This is your life now.”
This is your life now.
I blink at him several times, wondering about the texts where he promised ballgames and father-son outings. Was it all bullshit?
Colin lets out a heavy, annoyed sigh. “I apologize. I didn’t sleep much last night, and there’s a lot of money riding on the line with the Mexico shipment.” He studies me long enough that I squirm under his scrutiny. “Clear your schedule tonight. I’ll show you the city.”
Because my schedule is bustling with activities…
“Okay,” I murmur. “Thanks.”
Greer lets out a derisive snort, but Mark shoots him a scathing glare that has him growing quiet. Colin continues to discuss business. This time, I feign paying attention, making sure to make eye contact when necessary. Before long, breakfast is over, and the men are scattering. Colin rises to his feet, his stare assessing me.
“Greer can take you out for new clothes. I won’t have my son looking like that while representing me.” He tightens the knot of his tie. “He can take you on a run, too. Do as he says and keep out of trouble. You’ll learn the ropes soon enough. See you at dinner and wear a suit.”
The overwhelming urge to cry nearly suffocates me. I suck in deep, calming breaths, squeezing my eyes shut so I can escape elsewhere, even for a few blissful seconds. Canyon appears behind my lids, his cocky smile bright and beautiful. I crave to jerk him from my imagination into the present. To beg him to promise it’ll be okay. To take me away from here to our imaginary apartment so I can cuddle my imaginary cat. We had dreams together, and I ruined them.
Dreams are stupid because they aren’t real.
Life is a nightmare.
This reality is my life now.
Canyon
This year, Thanksgiving was spent at a Starbucks in an airport in Denver. Just a couple of days after Alis took off, we were able to organize our own travel back home. I’d wanted to fly straight to St. Louis and hunt him down, but Quinn and Dad vetoed that almost immediately.
Apparently, we need to go home and wait for him.
It’s like they don’t care.
Swiping my phone on, I scroll through my texts, looking to see if there’s anything new from Alis. Nothing. Anger is my first emotion, but it gets kicked to the back seat as worry trickles in. I send him another text.
Me: Let me know you’re okay.
No response.
“This is bullshit,” I bark out, slamming my phone on the table hard enough to rattle everyone’s cups. “This is your fault.” I waggle a finger between Quinn and Dad. “I’ll never forgive either of you for running him off.”