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I couldn’t even consider the possibility.
I wouldn’t fuck up, no matter what. I owed Ronan everything. If this kid gave me even one sign that he’d returned to his old ways, I’d take him out with much more mercy than he and his brother had shown Seth and his family.
“You have someone watching Seth and the kids?” I asked.
Ronan nodded. “Seth doesn’t know. And I want to keep it that way.”
I’d suspected as much. Seth had been struggling with anxiety ever since the attack. It had made him borderline agoraphobic before Ronan had come along. Ronan and Seth had the perfect life now and Ronan wouldn’t let anything threaten that, especially not a foolish addict who didn’t even have the brains to seek out a new target.
“Consider it done,” I said as I stood, snagging the stack of papers off the desk.
Ronan nodded, but didn’t stand to walk me out. He looked…defeated. I suspected that came from the fear he was feeling, not to mention the fact that he was having to keep such a secret from his husband.
“I’ll send the rest of the information to you,” Ronan said. “Last known address, financials, that kind of thing.”
I gave him a quick nod and turned to go, but then thought better of it. “Ronan,” I said quietly and waited until he looked up at me. “Nothing will happen to him.”
A soft sigh escaped Ronan’s lips, but he didn’t say anything. He merely nodded.
I left the study and headed towards the front door. I couldn’t say I was particularly excited about potentially ending the life of young Levi Deming, but Seth and Ronan were family now.
And I always protected my family.
Chapter 1
Levi
I’d always hated the rain as a child since it had meant being cooped up inside which, considering the household I’d grown up in, had been akin to torture. But after having spent more than three years of my life not being able to do something as simple as feeling the rain on my skin if I wanted to, I doubted I’d ever have a problem with slogging through the torrential downpours or heavy blankets of mist that Seattle was dually known for. Besides, it made the sensation of the sun warming my skin all the sweeter.
One good thing about the rain was that it meant I’d be less likely to encounter trouble once I set foot outside my apartment.
And by trouble, I was talking about actual Trouble.
With a capital T.
How the guy had figured giving himself the nickname “Trouble” would make him seem tough was beyond me, but apparently, he hadn’t relied on the stupid name alone to gain the street cred he’d needed to make a name for himself. And clearly, I wasn’t the only one who thought the name was ridiculous because just about everyone called him T.
Even his big brother, Gun.
Yep, that was his actual name. Though I’d been told Gun was short for Gunnar which was a Swedish name. Since I didn’t even know where to find Sweden on a map, I’d had to take my cellmate Hank’s word for it that Gun’s stark blond hair, sharp blue eyes and burly body were proof of his Scandinavian heritage. Not that any of that had mattered whenever Gun had cornered me in the shower.
I shivered as the memories washed over me and automatically scanned my surroundings again as I hurried down the sidewalk.
T, whose real name I’d heard through the rumor mill was Hugo, might not be as big as his older brother, but he was proving to be no less dangerous.
A lesson I’d learned within a month of walking out of Washington State Penitentiary after serving three and a half years of a five-year drug possession sentence. T had been waiting for me outside my apartment building. To this day, I still had no clue how he’d found me and when he’d shoved me up against the side of the building and slugged me, I hadn’t even known who he was. It had only been when he’d dragged me into the alley next to my building, pushed me to my knees and told me he had a message for me from Gun that I’d realized I’d walked out of one hell and into another.
That had been a year ago.
I’d been at T’s mercy ever since.
Except for when he was in jail. I kept hoping he’d be collared for something serious enough to send him to prison, but life wasn’t proving to be that kind. At most, he was gone for a couple of weeks at a time, once for an entire month. Every time I’d think maybe it was finally safe to take a deep breath, I’d round a corner and there he’d be.
Of course, it was no less than I deserved.
It was one of the many reasons I never prayed for things to change, though Father O’Shaughnessy had assured me repeatedly that God would be listening when I was ready to talk. I’d believed that line when I’d been a naïve kid begging God to bring my mother home or asking Him to make my dad and my older brother Ricky stop using drugs and alcohol long enough to keep from using me as their personal punching bag…and worse.
