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“There are still three Merchants left in the city, and they’re looking for me as hard as I’m gunning for them. I’m gonna take them out and I’ll be sure this time. So why not grab a gun, a window, and kill the Merchant who isn’t living safe in the Fairfield?”
I shuddered. Inside the killer’s mind was a cold, vile place. “Why aren’t you living safe in the Fairfield, Genny? You just said the timing is too suspicious. If this guy is following you home, planning his next attack, wouldn’t you be safer here?”
“Hi, we obviously haven’t met. My name is Genevieve Ava Hunt, member of the Merchant crime family, and founder of the Cardinals Motorcycle Club. If you’re looking for Pansy-Ass Little-Bitch Hunt, member of the Spineless Cunts, and founder of the Runaway Club, you dialed the wrong number.”
“You called me,” I muttered.
“This shithead isn’t running me out of my borough. Didn’t work when the roided-up mob set the original Barbarella’s on fire with me inside, and it ain’t going to work now.”
“Your stubbornness is your least attractive trait.”
Gen barked a laugh. “I don’t have unattractive traits, Feisty, that’s why you’re sporting a low-key girl-crush on me. But because I know how you and my bros worry, I’ve packed up and moved to one of my safe houses. It’s a basement apartment. No windows, three ways out, and cameras clocking every corner and alleyway.”
“That’s something at least. Take care of yourself, Genny. This guy isn’t going to win. He doesn’t get an inch. He won’t win even the smallest victory. The only prize he’ll receive is a taste of the fear he gave Tricky that night at the restaurant.”
“I’ve never agreed with anyone more.”
Genny hung up by way of goodbye. My chat with FGH was over. Now for my chat with Liam.
I finished up feeding Laurel, then carried her into Sienna’s room. My sister ate breakfast in her four-poster canopy bed with the television on low and silk robe snug and tight. To say she fully embraced her new life was an understatement.
“Do you mind looking after Laurel for me while I run upstairs? She just ate, so she’s ready for Aunty-time.”
“My favorite time of day,” Sienna said, holding her arms out for the baby. “We’ll find him, Kenzie. There’s nowhere that rat can hide.”
She said it, and I believed it. Digger would not get away with what he’s done. We would find him, and when Sunny shoves a gun in his mouth, I won’t stop what comes next.
I jerked to a stop as that vicious thought went through my mind. Slowly, I raised my head, beholding my reflection in the hallway mirror.
So that’s how it happens... that’s how that look gets in your eyes.
Shaking it off, I got in the elevator and hit the button for Liam’s floor.
I wasn’t changing. I’m still me. I’m still a person who chooses violence as the last resort. Luca Adams lied, manipulated, and tried to force me into prostitution. Even the pope wouldn’t shed a tear if he died a slow, painful death. Wanting Adams to get what’s owed him is normal.
But unlike Damien, Lyla, Talia, Courtney, or the rest of them, this time I can do something. I can take Luca down alongside men who’ll make sure he stays down for good.
Just how far am I willing to go?
“Hello.” Liam’s voice caressed my ears, chasing dark, conflicted thoughts away, and replacing them with panicked, embarrassed ones.
“Liam, it—it’s me. I’m here to—”
“Come in.” The elevator slid open on the final word.
Hands wringing, my pulse revved the closer I got to his door. “Just apologize,” I whispered. “Say you were working through your feelings and accidentally sent that text.”
I knocked. No one answered and I tried the knob. Open.
Wood swinging in, Liam revealed inch by inch on his armchair, finger gliding around the coffee mug’s rim. The curtains drew shut, casting shadows over his face, and he didn’t move as I came in.
“Liam, I...” The apology stuck in my throat, burned up with my cheeks, neck, and palms. All of me flared hot with embarrassment. I made the biggest fool of myself. “Where’s Lizzie?” I squeaked. Maybe if I take the long way around, I’ll make it to the apology.
“She’s out with Uncle Bane.”
I waited for him to say more. Nothing came except a lifting brow and widening smirk. The floor opened up and swallowed me.
Liam read the text. Read every damn word, and he was more than pleased to let me stew in humiliation until I brought it up.
So do it, Kenzie. Harpoon the elephant in the room.
“Liam, about that text—”
“What text would that be?” he asked, drawing out the words. “Would it be the one you sent me in the middle of the night where you called me a coward, then dared me to do something about it?”
