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When I pulled into the lot, Birdie’s car was parked in her space, and my heart was racing as I scrambled up the stairs to our door. There was no need to unlock it because it was already cracked. I hesitated on the threshold, too paralyzed by the idea of what I might find inside.
“Gypsy?” Birdie’s frail voice called out. “Is that you?”
I shouldered the door opened and pushed inside but halted at the sight of my trembling sister on the sofa. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained with mascara, and it had the immediate effect of triggering every protective instinct inside me. I wanted to murder Lucian West, and if he were here right now, I seriously might have.
“Birdie, are you okay?” I moved closer but froze a foot in front of her.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I didn’t know how to comfort her when she was like this. Inside, Birdie was softer than she let on, but on the outside, she was full of rage. There was an incendiary device lying in wait for the right trigger, and it didn’t explode often, but when it did, it leveled everything in her path. Even that was preferable to what I was witnessing now. Birdie didn’t cry. Neither of us cried anymore. It was a silent promise we made to ourselves after we left California. No more tears.
“I’m sorry.” She clutched her arms around her body, rocking back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Gypsy. I screwed up. I screwed up so bad—”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I promise, it’s going to be okay. But right now, I just need you to go pack. Only necessities like we’ve talked about. Your wallet, IDs…”
Birdie’s gaze moved behind me, and the rest of the instructions lodged in my throat when the telltale sound of a gun cocked and pressed against the base of my spine.
“She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
Birdie broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably while I tried to come up with a plan. But apart from kicking this dude in the nuts and trying to run before he shot and killed us both, I had nothing.
“Do you work for Mr. West?” I asked.
“I’m an associate of Mr. West’s,” he answered. “I don’t work for anybody but myself.”
Well, that was clear as mud. “Whatever he’s paying you, I can double it.”
A husky laugh wheezed out of his throat. “That’s cute.”
“Look, what do you want?”
“It isn’t what I want. You know the deal. It’s been laid out already. If you need clarification, you can call Mr. West.”
“Can you kindly put the gun away?” I asked. “So we can discuss this like civilized adults?”
He removed the gun from my back, and I turned around slowly to face him. The guy was huge. Undoubtedly some type of mercenary if my wild imagination had anything to say about it. I wasn’t in the habit of feeling intimidated by men, but it was a natural instinct to falter in the presence of this one.
The guy was an animal. Six feet of rugged muscle poured into motorcycle boots, jeans, and a leather biker vest. Not exactly who I would expect Lucian to run with, but I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me. He was a criminal attorney.
“I’m Gypsy.” I offered a tentative smile. “Which I’m sure you know already. But I didn’t catch your name.”
“You can call me Ace,” he grunted.
“Okay, Ace. Let me take a stab at the situation,” I ventured. “Mr. West helped you out somehow, and now you feel indebted to him, right?”
He tilted his head and smiled. “Lucian was right about you, you know that?”
His words left a sour taste in my mouth, but I tried not to let it get to me. “How so?”
“You think you can bat your eyelashes at any man who comes your way and bend him to your will.”
“It was just a simple question.”
Ace shrugged. “Well, if you must know, he did help me out. He helped me out in a way that nobody else ever would, and I owe him my life. So you can save your breath trying to make a deal with me.”
I knew he wasn’t mincing words. His loyalty to Lucian was unwavering, and I was at a loss. “So what happens now?”
Ace glanced at Birdie, and I stepped in front of her to obscure his vision. I didn’t want him to witness my sister crying. I didn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable she was.
“The way I see it.” Ace scratched at his beard. “You and your sister here are fucked six ways from Sunday. If I were you, I’d take the deal.”
“No,” Birdie shouted.
When I turned, she was already up off the sofa and trying to push through the barrier I’d created to protect her.
“Sit down, Birdie.”
“No,” she insisted. “I did this. It was my fault. Tell Mr. West that I will fulfill the deal.”
