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“What do you mean?” I ask when the rest of the information becomes too much. I don’t even want to bring up Stacey until I’ve gotten to the bottom of my father and now Max.
“He means that you didn’t escape that asylum, babe,” Devon whispers from the doorway.
I jump, turning my head over my shoulder briefly before resting my eyes back on Bryant.
Bryant nods as if reading my thoughts. “They let you out, and your man Max? He’s part of it.”
My brows furrow. “Stacey…” I think over my time in Fate. “The photo…” I whisper out the thoughts that were rushing through my head. “She’s—she—”
Bryant nods. “Max’s wife.”
I exhale through a hiss, resting my head on his shoulder. He begins massaging my lower back, the cool touch of his Rolex against the warmth of my skin. “Max is with your father, but we can’t let them know that we know.”
I still. “You mean Stacey too?”
Bryant shuffles in his seat. I notice the tense of his muscles instantly. “Sure.”
Before I can question what sure is supposed to mean, Devon leans against the side of the heavy mahogany table, crossing his feet at the ankles. “It’s true. We can’t.”
“So, what does that mean?” I swing my legs off from Bryant and make my way to the alcohol table. Pouring a glass of vodka, I drop two ice cubes into the liquid and swirl the glass around between two fingers.
“It means you have to play nice,” Devon mutters, pressing himself against my ass while his fingers sprawl out over my tummy.
My eyes closed as I tipped the liquid down my throat. “I don’t play nice.”
Devon chuckles, his lips skimming against the nape of my neck. “We know, baby.”
“We have a plan.” Bryant takes my glass off me and brings it to his lips. “And you’re about three seconds away from losing your cock, Devon.”
The vibrating in my pocket distracts me and I reach down to fish it out, seeing Max’s name flashing over the home screen. I hit ignore and slip out of Devon’s grip, turning to face him head-on.
“Some things are coming back to me,” I say. “Like the parts that I created in my head from the drugs have almost faded to nothing and the things that actually happened feel as though they’ve only just happened. You and Brooke?”
“We fucked. Before the wedding day. That’s it.”
I search Devon’s blue eyes. Eyes I had trusted for years. Eyes I could still trust, even though I shouldn’t. “You and your cock, Devon.”
Devon flashes me one of his trademark grins. “Hey, I mean you never complained about it before.”
I ignore him. “And what you do for Bryant?”
Bryant interferes. “Not just me, he has many clients.”
I shake my head, making my way to the large window that overlooks the driveway. Thick trees line the manicured lawn, a fountain built from stone in the middle. “You’re an assassin?” The words fall from my lips before I can swallow them.
“I prefer the term reaper, but in essence, yes, I am.”
I exhale, snatching the glass off Bryant when he comes close enough for me to reach. Kicking off my red bottom heels until they’re scattered on the ground, I bring my legs up to my chest, leaning on the back of the glass. I love this office. This seat that’s built against the window. “You knew about me when you moved in with me?”
They both remain silent.
I open my eyes onto Bryant, who is now watching me closely. His shadow over his jaw is growing thicker, borderline beard. It suits him. Bryant is a feral beast, tamed and conditioned to aim his anger at the right people. He’s respectfully poised, and has no problem sitting and waiting his turn to bite, which is exactly what made him dangerous. He never acts irrationally. He does everything with intention, with purpose, so you knew that when and if he was about to end your life, there was no way you were walking away from his wrath.
“Baby.” Those simple words said from complicated lips erupted emotions that were dead inside of me and raised them to the surface. Bryant runs his hand over his jaw, bringing a cigar to his lips. “Yes, Devon knew who you were when you became friends. He knew who you were when he moved in with you. He knew who you were the whole fucking time.” Bryant lights the tip of his cigar and I watch as smoke filters through the air, the soft sweet hint of marijuana burning with the strong scent of nicotine.
“Because I killed your brother.” I’m not so much asking, more thinking out loud. “Because you wanted revenge?” Deep down, even as I say those words, I know that nothing with our life is ever easy.
Bryant sits beside me, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes come to mine from over his shoulder. “No.”
