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I’m not going back there. No matter what I have to do to stay out.
When I get back to our place, I let myself in, slamming the door behind me. Willow is in the living room, and she looks up when I enter from the hallway, but I don’t slow my strides as I pass through the room and head for the stairs. Still, even though I barely even glance at her as I walk by, it’s like every part of my body is wired to be aware of her. I can feel her eyes on my back, heavy like a touch, even though she hasn’t moved from the couch.
Ransom is already in Victor’s room when I get up there, and as I step inside, I find my brothers with their heads together, reading the message that Vic has up on his computer screen.
They glance my way in unison, and Ransom looks as tense as Victor sounded on the phone.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demand.
“Shut the door,” Vic says.
I do and then come closer, folding my arms.
The message on the screen is from X, and it starts the same way all the messages we get from him do.
“I’ve got a new job for you, blah blah, fucking blah,” I mutter under my breath.
But then my eyes scan down more, and I stare in shock at the picture of Willow that sits beneath the text. It’s definitely her, no mistaking it…
And the instructions say that X wants us to deliver her to him.
I quickly scan the rest of the message, trying to block out the sound of blood rushing in my ears as my pulse speeds up. This is the first time one of X’s little tasks has hit so close to home. Usually, it’s shit we don’t know anything about and don’t want to know about. Random acts of arson, theft, and other dirty work like that.
Now he’s asking for someone we know.
Someone in our fuckinghome.
Anger fills me, bitter and raw. I curl my fingers into fists, glaring at the screen until the image of Willow’s face blurs a bit. Everything in me is screaming no.
No, we won’t do it.
We can’t do it.
Those protective feelings that I’ve been trying to ignore claw up my throat, demanding that we keep her safe. Whatever X wants her for, it can’t be anything good. It can’t be anything she’ll walk away from in one piece or with her sanity intact, and Willow doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess.
Not any deeper than she already is, anyway. She’s already at the fucking center of our attempt to cover up what happened at the brothel.
But on the heels of that thought, I remember the vow I made to myself in the car on the way back home.
I can’t go back to prison. I almost fucking died at the hands of a gang that targeted me in there. I had to close down all my empathy and emotion and harden myself until I was barely human just to survive.
Getting soft is a weakness, and this girl makes me soft. How many times have I held a gun to her head, seen the chance to end this all, and not taken it?
Ransom was right when he said that we’re not going to kill her. He was right when he said that I won’t do it. That Ican’tdo it.
And that makes her a weakness. For me, especially.
The silence in Vic’s room is thick, all of us locked in our thoughts for an interminable moment. Then Ransom breaks the stillness, saying what we’re all thinking.
“What the actual fuck?”
Vic sighs, his long fingers tapping on his leg. “My thoughts exactly. We’ve never had a job this… personal before.”
“What the hell does this mean?” I ask, glaring at the screen. “What does he want her for?”
“And beyond that,” Vic murmurs, “what does it mean X knows? Does he know she’s living with us, or is this a random job?”
“No fucking way,” I snarl. “There’s no way this is random. Out of all the girls X could have asked for, why her? He has to know she’s living with us.”
