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He doesn’t need to finish. We’re on the same page.
“So someone was watching the Audi and mistook Stacey for Charleigh?” he asks. It’s more a statement than a question. We already know the answer.
Vadik nods. “They were watching and let the truck know where the car was headed. Easy target.”
“He’s dead. He’s so fucking dead,” I say of Dimitri.
“What do you think of sending Charleigh and Evie out of town for a while? To protect them?” Vadik suggests.
It’s not a bad idea, although I feel better having them close. On one hand, it seems the best way to protect them, but on the other, keeping them here hasn’t fared so well, given Charleigh’s kidnapping, and now the car explosion.
I’m used to being in control of every situation around me, just like my brothers. Sure, we have rivals all over the place. But they rarely strike, much as they might like to. They know our return fire, so to speak, will be ten times what they initially sent our way. But these unrelenting hits are showing cracks in our systems. We have to be better. More vigilant.
It’s been a fucking hard lesson to learn.
This is when I wish Papa were still here.
* * *
CHAPTERTHREE
Charleigh
I never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to be back in the club’s dressing room with its rickety lockers, stained makeup table, and burned-out light bulbs. Dumpy as it may be, there’s something comforting about it. I never would have expected positive feelings about this place, but when your life has been turned upside down so many times like mine has, so that you can no longer tell which side is up, the smallest bit of familiarity is a sanctuary. I am at peace here.
It’s hard to say whether that’s good or bad. On one hand, how pathetic that this is what represents the little good in my life right now. And on the other, at least I have someplace to go.
This is the place where I met Stacey, and we became friends. We were in each other’s lives for only a short period of time, but I’ll never forget how kind she was to me when I first arrived. She made me believe I might just survive. The fact that Idid, at least so far, I owe in great part to her. She showed me respect when no one else did. That made me feel human. It gave me hope.
I wish we could have been friends for years to come.
We don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone. Life has taught me that more than once. I took for granted she’d be here at the club for the foreseeable future, and that I could always have a chat with her when I popped in. I wanted to hear about her little boy growing up, and her stories about making it even when the odds were stacked against her. She was amazing, making shit happen when others would have given up.
I open her locker, full of her things, untouched since the day of the car explosion.
I just spent the last two weeks holed up at the compound with my sister. The guys felt that, for the time being, it was the one place they could have absolute control over our safety. They quadrupled their security team and we could barely go to the bathroom without a guard following us. It seemed a little overkill to me, but if it made them feel better, I was happy to comply. After everything that happened, and considering I was still healing, I had no burning desire to do anything other than hunker down at home anyway, go on little walks with Evie, and explore the property.
Funny, I just called the compoundhome. I didn’t see that one coming.
But what other home do I have at this point? Same with Evie. Our father wasn’t capable of keeping her safe, just like he couldn’t or wouldn’t protect me, so this had to become her new home. Our new home.
This is probably not what our mother had in mind for us when she passed ten years ago, but under the circumstances, I want to believe she’d approve of how I’ve kept my sister with me, doing my best to keep her on the right track. I’m not always successful—in fact, I often am not. But at least I’m trying. That’s more than anyone else is doing for the kid.
My arm is out of its sling, and while my shoulder is still sore, I’m able to reach the upper shelf of Stacey’s locker. I asked the guys shortly after we lost her if they would leave her things alone, so I could go through them when I felt well enough. They were happy to oblige. It’s not like anyone else was clamoring to go through what she left behind. Not even Dominika, who was more annoyed at having to find a new stripper than she was upset about the poor woman burning to death in a car explosion.
She’s a gem, that one.
I go through a bag of makeup and remember how carefully Stacey would ‘apply her face,’ as she called it, every time she worked. She took such care with her appearance, saying that the better she looked, the better her tips were, and that she needed them for her boy.
Everything was for her boy.
The guys have said Stacey’s mother and son would be looked after for the duration of their lives. I guess that means they’re getting a whole pile of money, and I’m sure that will be a big help to them, on one level. But on the other, I’m sure they’d rather Stacey were still here.
I know that’s what I’d prefer, given the choice.
After sorting through Stacey’s makeup, trying to decide what to do with it, I pull her tote bag from the locker. In it, I find a couple women’s magazines and a tattered copy ofFifty Shades of Greythat looks like she was carrying it around for quite some time. A page is dog eared about a quarter of the way in, so I guess she never got too far into it.
I pull the book to my chest and close my eyes, hoping to feel her presence. And let her know how sorry I am she’s gone. That it’s my fault.
