4
COLTON
Her face is so pale, I’m afraid she’s going to pass out with the baby in her arms.
I can’t bring myself to move more than a foot away from her as we walk down her hallway, Marco and Jamie on either side of us. Marco moves down the stairs ahead of us, but Evie stops on the second-floor landing. “I have to say goodbye to Sonja.”
I don’t like the delay, but follow her to the door, standing against the wall while she knocks. The walls are so fucking thin, I hear the woman coming before the door swings open.
I want Evie out of this place and safely in the car so fucking badly. But I think if I pick her up, she’s going to flip her lid. I smile again, thinking of her attitude. She’s so far from the vibrant woman in her picture that I worried all of her had faded away, but thank fuck, the sass is intact.
I can’t keep the fucking smile off my face. I can’t believe I’ve got her. It’s bizarre, I know, to be this attached to a woman I met thirty minutes ago. But she’s been taking up a big part of my brain for the last two months. Ever since I saw the photo of her from when Holly knew her, before Brent fucked everything up for her.
Her smile in that photo was killer. In it, you could see she was someone who grabbed life by the balls. I saw her kindness and generosity, too. Her cheeks were round, her eyes were shining, and I couldn’t look away. The second photo, the one taken recently, fucking infuriated me. Her cheeks were gaunt. She looked worn out. But now, she looks even worse.
And I won’t fucking stand for it.
For about the two-hundredth time in the last couple of months, I wish we could still handle shit with our fists. But no, we have to be upstanding fucking members of the community and let the system handle things. Evie’s wide eyes tell me my smile’s turned feral, so I tuck it away. She never needs to know how badly I’ve destroyed those cops’ lives. She doesn’t need to be touched by that darkness. All she needs to do is take care of that little girl.
And put on some fucking weight.
My focus narrows as I hear the women discussing something that makes my balls shrivel. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Sonja shrinks back, and I immediately regret my tone. Way to go, Colt, scare the fucking grandma. “I’m sorry ma’am. Please, what happened?” Her eyes glance from me to Evie, and with a sigh, Evie explains.
“There was a gang fight…or something, outside. All we know is some people were killed, and bullets ended up coming through the bedroom window.” Her voice gets thick, and my hands curl into fists involuntarily. “Mia and Sonja’s grandkids were all sleeping in there.”
Conscious of the women’s eyes on me, I don’t let the rage coursing through my body show. But I wanna fucking destroy something. I wanna be in a ring with a brutal motherfucker, making him bleed. Anything to get this out. But none of that is a fucking option. So I drop my head and breathe until I speak calmly.
“Can you show me, please?” I ask Sonja.
She shows me to the small bedroom and I take in the boarded-up window and the bare mattress in the corner. She’s tried to clean up, but even in the dim overhead light, I can see glittering shards of glass left. Unacceptable. Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture of the room, then dial.
“What’s up Shrek.” Cara answers. I don’t tease her back. I can’t.
“I need your help.”
I can almost hear her sit straight in her chair. “Anything. I’ll put you on speaker.”
I don’t question why or who’s in the room. If she’s putting me on speaker that means she’s with at least one of my brothers. That’s why I called. She’s never truly off-duty.
“Last night, at Evie’s apartment building, there was a shooting.” Her gasp and Ransom’s familiar growl hit my ears simultaneously. “Bullets came through the neighbor’s window, where Mia and other kids were sleeping. The window is boarded up and there’s still glass all over the room.”
“On it,” she mutters, “I’ll line up a glass company to replace the window right away. And I’ll get a cleaning crew over there too. I’ll send you the updates. And…,” she prompts, knowing me well enough to know that there will be more.
I look over at Sonja. “Do your grandkids live with you full time?”
“Yes,” she says, pressing her hand to her chest.
“What are their names?”
“Ah, Miguel. He’s seven. And Rosa, she’s five.”
Smiling my thanks, I focus back on Cara. “Did you catch that?”
“Yeah,” she says, voice subdued.
“Get the realtor on it. I want listings in my email by tonight. Three bedrooms, single story or condo…” Turning to Sonja, I ask, “What’s the best school district in town?”
