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Brett charges through the door. Angry daggers aimed at me. His hands come out, and he grips my T-shirt. “What the fuck? She told Mom everything about the escort service.”
The heat of his anger penetrates me. It blasts on my face like the Florida sun.
“I know,” I say. It’s not what he wants to hear, but nothing I say will calm his ass down. I’m going to have to let this play out.
“You know?” Brett’s lip curls, and that’s never a good thing.
“Brett!” Cole grabs and drags him from me.
“I’m going to kill him!” Brett struggles to break free from Cole’s grip.
“That won’t help anything. We need to talk about this,” Cole tries to reason, wrangling Brett a safe distance away.
The middle brother is always the mediator. He’s good at it.
“You fucked up everything!” Brett points. “Mom’s worried about us, and that’s your fault.” He rips his arms from Cole’s hold. “She’s in jail, fighting for her life every day. Struggling to stay alive until the day we can get her out.” His hands clench into fists. “Did you ever think about what you’re playing with here? It’s not just us, Mom, but it’s also Willa. She runs this entire operation. She could get in trouble!”
I stand straight. “I’d never let anything happen to Willa, and Mom’s tough. She knows we’re not angels. If you think she does, you’re delusional.”
“You, little brother…” He pokes my chest with a strong finger. “You need to find out what that bitch wants and end this shit. You need to end it now!”
Cole relocates beside Brett, prepared to hold him back again if needed. Then assessing the situation, Cole looks at Brett and me. “What does she want?”
“Fuck!” I shake my head. “I’m working on it!” I run my hand through my hair, again getting a whiff of Chosen. “Fuck!” I throw my arm away from my nose.
“You better figure it out and fix this.” Brett’s eyes darken. “You hear me? I’m done, Lix. This is done. No more fucking around. You need to make this go away. I don’t care what you’ve got to do. Get it done.”
“Yeah.” I nod in agreement, knowing I can’t argue my way out of this.
“I don’t want to see some fucking story in theSun Bulletinabout us.”
“You won’t,” I say with confidence. “It’s all good, Brett. It’s handled.”
He releases a growl and struts out my door, muttering to himself.
Cole places his hand on my shoulder. “You sure about this.”
“Trust me.” I slide my eyes to Cole. “Chosen isn’t after the escort story.”
“No.” His eyebrow lifts. He leans in. “What’s she after, then?”
“Me,” I say with a thin grin.
“Well”—he pats my shoulder—“you better give her what she wants before Brett kicks your ass.” He chuckles, and without further explanation, he walks out the door with Harper and Cassie.
That’s the thing with Cole. He believes things are meant to be. My current situation isn’t a coincidence. He trusts it’ll work out.
He trusts me.
I’m just not sure if I can trust Chosen.
Cole’s much easier to deal with than Brett.
Right about now, though, I’m leaning toward getting in the ring with Brett rather than giving Chosen what she wants. Brett will leave bruises.
I’m afraid of what Chosen might leave me with.
I sit in the wooden chair—the kind you might find at a fire hall or an outdoor party under a rented tent. The chairs set out are filled with an array of different characters. Some in T-shirts, dresses, and suits, and some with camouflaged or team baseball hats situated on their heads.
