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It was her half brother, Joey.
Ellie ignored him. Not today. Her brothers were endless problems. The cell stopped ringing, then started in again. She ignored the second call, too. They had no idea she had problems herself.
The third time he called, she snatched up the phone and growled, “What?”
“Nia and Michael are eloping,” he said through a clogged throat.
She ground her teeth together, then almost laughed. It was so ludicrous. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“So you and Michael are sharing . . . again?”
“Nnnooo . . . ”
“You’re not convincing me.” She sighed. “Do you know where they are now?”
“At our apartment.”
“Are you there?”
“I’m outside. We had a fight.”
“Hold on. I’m coming.” She clicked off and threw her phone into the passenger seat. It felt almost good to have a mission. She hoped to God she could stop Michael before he did something irrevocably stupid, and marrying a Crassley fell directly into that category.
When she got to the apartment, a two-bedroom in a fifty-unit, gray complex in desperate need of paint, Joey was pacing outside. Ellie swept up the wooden stairs to the front door, but when he tried to follow, she ordered, “Stay here.” Both of her brothers had been involved with Nia Crassley, and it was bad news all around. Nia was the youngest Crassley and the only girl, with three elder brothers and a passel of half brothers, stepsiblings, and who knew what. Ellie knew, from the twins, that Nia was living with her three true brothers on the family property. She was a few years older than the twins, but looked twice their age. They were just her latest conquests. She, like her brothers, had been the bane of West Knoll for years. Her parents, both gone now, had started the dynasty of crime and bad behavior, and Nia, Gale, Booker, and Harry Crassley had gleefully continued in their wake.
The door was locked. Ellie yelled, “Michael, let me in, or I will break this down, I swear. Bad things have happened to me, and I’m off leash. I will smash this lock. I will smash a window. I will—”
The door flew inward, and Nia stood there with a look of disbelief on her elfin face. “What’s your problem?” she demanded. Michael hovered behind her, giving Ellie his somewhat belligerent “I know I’m in trouble” look.
Ellie gave her attention to the girl in front of her. Nia was pretty enough, small and dark and sultry, but she’d had a hard life, and it showed in the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. She regarded Ellie insolently through bangs that needed to be trimmed.
“Let’s get you a pregnancy test before you guys make a run for the preacher,” Ellie said calmly.
Michael said, “Butt out, Ellie.”
Nia smirked.
“I’m not going to bother being nice,” Ellie said. “Nia, if you are pregnant—and that’s a big if—well, we all know that if you are, it could be anybody’s.”
“Ellie . . . ,” Michael murmured.
“If Justin Penske were still alive, he’d be top of the list for baby-daddy, but he’s about the only man I would rule out at this point,” Ellie said. “I just don’t think it’s Michael.”
An electric silence fell among them. Nia opened her eyes wide and glared at Ellie in a way that was meant to be intimidating. Ellie just waited.
“Joey should’ve never called you,” Michael whined.
“Shut up,” Nia told him.
“You shut the fuck up,” Michael retorted, looking wounded.
“You can’t elope!” Joey yelled from the porch.
Ellie turned to frown hard at him, and he backed down the stairs again. “Nobody’s eloping,” she told them.
“You think your shit don’t stink,” Nia snarled. “But I know something you don’t . . .”
