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The next minute, Malice was defending me.
He said it was because I’m under their roof, so I’m theirs, and it’s a basic respect kind of thing, but I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m not their property, not something they own—but at the same time, I’ve somehow become someone they want to protect.
That doesn’t make any sense. Malice hates me, doesn’t he?
He’s never made a secret of that. So why did he defend me just now? Why does healwaysdefend me?
From down the hallway, I can hear the door close, and a few moments after it does, Malice’s voice echoes into the living room.
“Fuck!”
There’s a thud as he punches something, and I flinch at the sound. He’s angry. I’ve seen him mad before, so that’s not new… but this is a different kind of anger. This is like when he found out what Colin did to me, or when he found out my mom stole from me. But worse, in a way. Maybe because he was here to see it happen this time.
“Calm down,” Ransom says, always the voice of reason. Then he makes a frustrated noise. “So much for that deal, I guess. Dammit. We were so close, too.”
“This might be worse than just losing their business,” Vic points out, and I creep a little closer to the hallway door to hear better. “They won’t forget what happened, and we don’t need more enemies right now. We have enough on our plates already.”
“And it’s not like losing the business is something we can just brush off either,” Ransom throws in.
“So what the fuck did you want me to do?” Malice demands. “Stand there and take it? Just let them walk all over us? Let them disrespect us on our own turf? That’s the kind of thing that makes you look weak and gets you fucking killed. I can’t let that kind of shit stand. That would be worse than losing the business or them hating us or whatever the fuck else happens.”
Vic doesn’t say anything in response, and I can imagine the way he’s probably standing there, his mind racing overtime as he tries to calculate all the possible variables of the fallout from tonight. After a moment of silence, it’s Ransom who replies.
“Listen, Mal. I know that’s how you survived in prison. Showing weakness got you fucked up, so you made yourself stronger than everyone who might come after you.”
“It’s not just prison,” Malice grunts. “The same shit applies out here. If you let people like Donovan and his gang walk all over you, then they’ll think they can always do it. They’ll fuck you over, just because they can.”
Somebody says something that’s too quiet for me to make out, and then Ransom’s voice comes again.
“Why don’t you just admit you want her? Maybe it’ll do us all some good. Maybe it’ll keep you from flying off the handle every time someone looks at her in a way you don’t like.”
I suck in a sharp breath, lifting up a hand to cover my mouth.
Is that true?
My mind races, replaying the moment when Malice leapt to my defense. The look on his face. The way he sounded.
And the thing is… Malice doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t tell Ransom to go fuck himself, or that he’s being delusional.
Instead, he storms off, stalking into the garage and slamming a door. A few moments later, Ransom and Victor come back into the room. Vic’s mood is hard to read as usual, but Ransom is easier to figure out. He looks tired and a little on edge, but he doesn’t seem mad.
“Is… everything going to be okay?” I whisper, twisting my fingers together.
He chuckles, coming over to stand before me. “Well, ‘okay’ really isn’t the right word for any of the shit we get into. But it’s not the end of the world, angel. We’ll figure it out the way we always do.”
He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind my ear as he speaks, and the familiar gesture is soothing, but it isn’t enough to calm my racing heart.
Vic shoots me one penetrating look, as if I’m a puzzle he’s tried over and over to solve, then goes back upstairs without saying a word. Ransom shakes his head before beginning to clean up in the living room area, gathering the glasses that are still sitting out with unfinished whiskey in them and putting things back where they belong.
It fits with what I’ve seen of them so far, the way they work together. Victor goes off to consult his computers, Malice is somewhere brooding, and Ransom is cleaning up the mess. I guess there does have to be someone who can smooth things over, and it’s sure not going to be either of the other two.
I stand there for a moment longer, debating between helping Ransom and… going to find Malice.
Ransom is the easiest of the three to talk to, and I can still feel the warmth from where his knuckles brushed my cheek. He seems to care about me, more than just as a pawn in these games they’re playing, and every time he touches me, it makes my heart race.
But he’s not the one I want to see right now. Not the one who’s on my mind.
It would be safer if he was—or as safe as dealing with any of these men can be, which isn’t very, but still.
