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Something flashed across his face—almost a pained expression—but just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. “Skye,” he said slowly, “Liam and Ansel are my real family. Realer than any family I’ve ever had.” He angled his chest towards me—still shirtless—so I could see the family tattoo up close. It was a Celtic knot surrounded by intricate, looping braids and inside the outline of a tree trunk sliced through the middle. I resisted the urge to follow the intricate loops with my finger.
He pointed to the edge of the circle just below the tree. “This tattoo represents our family because our bond is stronger than the oldest oak tree. Our bond’s deeper than its roots. You can cut us down as much as you want, but we will always grow back.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But if you want to know what happened to my birth family . . . your guess is as good as mine. My dad was never in the picture and my mom, well, she was an addict long before I was born. I don’t remember her much, but I spent a lot of time being passed around to different aunts, uncles, cousins,” he paused, “now that I think of it, they probably weren’t even my real family. Anyways, they didn’t like having me just as much as I didn’t like being there. I spent a lot of time in the streets. I was so angry at the world, and I would lash out at everyone around me. I was always getting into fights, always stealing, and breaking into buildings until I met Ansel, and he introduced me to his family. His parents took me in immediately and treated me like their own.”
“Are you in contact with your birth mom?”
“No, she’s probably still alive out there. But honestly, if I ran into her on the street, I wouldn’t recognize her. I don’t even remember what she looked like.”
I pushed my brows together. “I’m really sorry.”
“Why? My outcome turned out a lot better than most orcs my age. Ansel got me off the street before anything serious happened.”
“His parents sound like they were really good people. You must miss them a lot.”
I watched as his throat bobbed slowly. He stared at something in the distance, his eyes turning glassy. “Yeah,” he said thickly. He blinked and the tears were gone. “We all miss them. It’s been a really bad year . . . for all of us.” I placed my hand lightly on his arm, surprised that his skin was so warm, and held it there for a moment. Demie turned his attention towards me, looking serious. “Listen, I know you probably think we’re a bunch of criminals, and I’m not going to correct you there, we have all done stuff we’re not proud of, but we’ve got good hearts. At least, I think we all do. Liam is so cold sometimes I wonder if he’s got a heart at all . . .” He shook his head, “Sorry, I’m getting off track here. But Ansel has the biggest heart out of all of us. I know he’s grizzled around the edges but deep down he’s a really good person. He cares deeply for the people in his life. Liam and I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t . . .” Demie let his words trail off. His mouth twisted as if he wanted to say more but was holding back.
“What? Why are you giving me that look?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He let out a dramatic sigh. “If I tell you, don’t get mad, please?” He continued without waiting for my approval. “I know you’re here against your will and everything, but Ansel has been a lot happier since you’ve been here. After what happened to our parents, he closed himself off more than the rest of us, and I thought we had lost him forever. But it feels like we’re starting to get the old Ansel back, and I honestly think it’s because you’re here.”
My hand automatically reached to touch the stone hanging around my neck. I’m glad to hear Ansel was having a good time because I was absolutely miserable.
Was that true though?I stilled, mulling over the thought. Aside from being bored in my room all day, the only thing to keep myself occupied being the window and the magazines, I wasn’t in completemisery.I enjoyed Ansel’s company as well, even though he could be infuriating.
Why did it feel like Demie was trying to convince me to stay? I knew he wasn’t, there was no way he could know my plan, but why would he say that about Ansel if not . . .? The worst part of all, deep down inside, I knew he was right. Ansel was a good person, just stuck in a crummy circumstance. It’s not his fault his family was forced to start an illegal business to survive. If I had met Ansel under different circumstances, in a coffee shop maybe or even bumped into him at my work’s cafeteria—
I mentally kicked myself. That was a dangerous thread I would not and could not afford to go down. I had one goal in mind and one goal only: make it home to Carter before it was too late.
And not even Ansel with his dark humor, his handsome smile, his magic fingers, or his grizzled yet warm-and-gooey-in-the-center heart could distract me from that goal.
Chapter sixteen
Istaredatthewindow in utter amazement. I had hit a personal record today—three screws in one afternoon. Well, two and a half, but today was not the day to be splitting hairs. The most important thing was I only had one screw left. Only one screw stood between Carter and me.
After a breakfast of protein bars with Demie this morning, I quickly excused myself. I lied and told him I could feel a migraine coming on and not to worry about bringing me lunch (probably just more protein bars), because I always lost my appetite when my head started hurting like this.
He didn’t even question me, only shrugged and told me to feel better.
I felt a little guilty lying to Demie—only a smidgen, though, he was just as guilty as the other men here—but if he said one more nice thing about Ansel, I was going to implode. I didn’t need anymore reasons. The facts were, he was holding me captive, he was ex-mafia and being actively hunted by the leader of a dangerous drug cartel. And he was plotting a murder. He was a murderer. Yet, stupidly, both my heart and my vagina wanted him, desperately. Sex was one thing, but actual feelings? It was almost laughable.
What would my parents think? Honestly, they’d probably be more upset about him being an orc than his past mafia involvement or current murder plot.
It didn’t matter. I was not developing feelings. End of story.
I used that inner turmoil to start working on the window and before I knew it, I only had one screw left. The top middle one that holds the entire bars in place. When I pushed against them, the metal groaned but lifted away from the wall. Not quite enough for me to slip through, though.
I examined the darkening purple sky through the window; I could leave tonight, but Ansel was due home any moment now. It would be safer to leave tomorrow, right after my evening meal tray was brought. That bought me at least four hours to escape and put enough space between me and the warehouse before Ansel came home.
Though my relationship—I wouldn’t even call it that, but I couldn’t think of a better word—with Ansel was complicated, I would be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to spend one more night with him. It would be our last one together, and I wanted to enjoy his company one last time.
I was walking out of the bathroom, freshly showered and drying my hair with a towel when I heard a clamoring of voices from downstairs. There was shouting and, for a brief instant, I thought we were under attack. But the shouting sounded too cheerful, like what you would hear during a sporting event after a record-breaking win. I leaned against the edge of the dresser, my hand clutching my chest, and I breathed a long sigh of relief when I realized we weren't actually under attack.
“Is everything ok?” I asked no one in particular as I took the last step from the stairs onto the cement floor. All three of the men ignored me, unable to hear my question over their loud voices. Demie and Liam stood in front of Ansel, shouting and chanting unintelligible words at their leader in unison. I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt. There was so much testosterone in the air, they might maul me.
“Chug! Chug!”I was able to decipher some of their garbled words. Liam stepped out of the way, bringing Ansel clearly into view. Ansel wasn’t chanting along with them because his mouth was currently preoccupied with chugging a tall can of beer as fast as he could.
Rivulets of liquid poured from the corners of his mouth down the thick column of Ansel’s neck, his throat bobbing as he slowly leaned his head back, wetting his white shirt. What in the fresh frat-boy hell did I just walk into?
