by Kate Kessler
“Florida,” Killian said. “Take Willow to see Mom in Florida. Go to Disney. I’ll call you when I’ve got Shannon and you can come home.”
Megan stared at her. “I can’t afford to go to Florida right now.”
“Yes, you can,” said Dash. He took out his phone.
“Don’t.” Killian’s tone was sharper than she intended. “I’ll pay for it.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Okay. I have an account that has some points on it. Let me see what kind of deal I can get. You can pay the rest.”
“Good.”
“Killy…” Megan began.
Killian held up her hand. “Please, Meg. Let me do something right for a change.”
Her sister looked away, but just for a moment. “Okay, but you haven’t done anything wrong.”
A strangled laugh broke from her throat. “Yeah, sure.” She got up and walked out into the kitchen for a drink of water. She couldn’t sit there anymore, stupid and helpless.
While Dash checked for flights, Killian took out her own phone and dialed Rank’s number. He answered just as she was about to hang up. “What the hell are you calling me for?” he demanded.
“Did you send the SOBs after my sister?” she asked.
“What?”
“They came after my sister and her youngest tonight. Retaliation for Wex. Someone sent them a photo of Wex with a bullet in his head and told them I did it.”
His silence told her more than words could. He hadn’t known. “Are they all right?”
“Yeah. We got here in time. But, look, you need to own that shit if you want me to agree to your rules. My sister and her kid are off-limits.”
“Of course.”
She chewed on the side of her thumb. “You know this means you’ve got a disturbance in your house, right? Someone who works for you sent that photo.”
“I realize that.” Annoyance dripped from his words. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t let on anything happened to Shannon. She’ll worry.”
“I won’t. You have my word.”
Killian hesitated. “And, Rank? Whatever else you tell her, be kind, will you. She’s innocent in all of this. Make her hate me if you want, but don’t hurt her.”
Silence.
“Rank?”
“All I’ve ever wanted is to see you suffer, Killian. I’m happy to see it’s working.” There was a click and she knew he had hung up.
“You okay?” Dash asked as she shoved her phone into her pocket.
“Yeah. You find a flight?”
“Two o’clock this afternoon. Megan’s gone upstairs to pack.” He set his hand on her shoulder. “You owe me two hundred bucks.”
“That’s all?”
“I had enough points to cover it.”
“You make me feel really ineffective, you know that?” she asked with a bitter laugh.
“I’ve had nine years to get where I’m at. Prison isn’t exactly a growth opportunity.”
He had that right. “I’ll pay you when I get my next check.”
“Sure. Why don’t you go talk to your sister? I’ll sit with Willow.”
“I’m the last person she wants to talk to. She blames me for all of this.” She shrugged off his hand. She didn’t want comfort.
“She’s just freaked-out. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to normal people, Kill.”
“But it did, because of me.” She sighed. “Rank took Shannon to get to me. I’m the center of this whole shit storm.”
“Get your head out of your ass.”
Startled, she turned to him. “The fuck?”
Dash frowned, arms folded over his chest. “This woe is me shit is getting repetitive and boring. None of this is because of you. You didn’t force Rank to be a shit who kidnaps little girls because he’s too afraid to come at you directly. You didn’t make Shannon date that little asshole, and you didn’t make the Sons come here tonight. The only mistake you ever made was listening to me when I told you to leave Rank alive, but I didn’t want you to be a killer.”
She was now. “You told me once that you wanted to kill my stepfather.”
“Still do, but cancer did it for me, I hear.”
It was true. “Why would it be okay for you to kill him but not okay for me to kill Rank?”
“Because you would have killed him for Jason, and he didn’t deserve that kind of loyalty.”
At one time, that kind of declaration would have felt like a slap, but now it was merely a pinch. “Because he double-crossed Rank?”
Dash shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Sure it does. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” He moved toward the living room. “Go talk to your sister. I’ve got to make arrangements for Wex to be returned to the Sons.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of fixing everything?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’ll let you know.”
Silenced, she watched him leave the room. She stood there for a second, trying to sort the emotions running wild inside her. Finally, she gave up and pushed them all aside. There was only one thing she could control at that moment.
She made two cups of coffee and took them upstairs to Megan’s room. She gave one cup to her sister and took a sip from the other.
“I think it’s time we stop lying, Meg,” she said.
Her sister dropped a few pairs of underwear into a suitcase. “About what?”
“Everything.”
Megan raised her gaze to hers, eyes wide. “But…”
“We have to. My lie—our lie is what started all of this. We have to tell the truth. All of it. Starting with Cam.”
“Killy…”
“It’s not up for discussion.” She fixed her sister with a determined stare. “I started all of this with a lie years ago and you helped me tell it. Rank is going to tell Shannon about what we did. The only way to do damage control is to come clean ourselves. If Shannon calls again I’m going to tell her.”
“You can’t. Killy, please don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, Meg. I’m the one who started this, and I’m going to finish it.”
Fifteen years ago
The tattoo had taken hours and caused a decent amount of discomfort, but now that it was almost done it was worth it.
“Any significance to it?” the artist, Stacey, asked as she worked. “We never really talked about the meaning behind the art.”
“It’s from an old rhyme,” Killian replied, her cheek pressed against the leather of the tattoo chair. “A personal thing.”
“Gotcha. I thought maybe it was because you run with the Crows.”
“A little.” She really wished the woman would stop talking and just finish the damn thing.
“That your fella with you?”
“He’s my friend.”
“So, is he single?”
Jesus Christ. “Knock yourself out.” The girl was pretty—perfect makeup, lots of tats. She had a real rockabilly vibe to her. Killian didn’t know if that was Dash’s thing or not. Didn’t care.
“Just might,” she replied. Then she called out, “Hey, sweetheart. How’s your ink healing?”
Killian watched as Dash turned his head. He stood over by the wall, looking at tattoo designs. “Fine. Thanks.”
“You let me know if you need anything else done, won’t you?”
He stared at her for a second, obviously catching her drift. “Yeah. Sure.”
Killian rolled her eyes. He was so bad at being a dog, even when he wanted to be. It was disgusting. “You mind saving the flirting till we’re done?” she asked as sweetly as she could manage. “I’d like to get out of this chair eventually.”
“Sure thing, doll.” If Stacey was miffed, she didn’t show it. But then, why would she? She’d dangled her bait in front of Dash and he’d nibbled. A few more flashes of cleavage and she’d be able to reel him in.
Not that Killian cared. Dash was over eighteen.
He could do what he wanted. She was just jealous that one of them was getting some. Jason had been in jail for the last month and she couldn’t even see him without an adult because she was underage. It made having a relationship difficult. She just wanted her man back.
“All right,” Stacey announced a few minutes later. “We’re done. Want to see it?”
Killian sat up. She wanted to cover herself, but she didn’t want to look like a pussy, so she pretended she didn’t care if anyone saw her tits. It was only Dash. She turned her back to the mirror and craned her neck to see over her shoulder.
The woman might be a shameless flirt, but she did good work. “It’s beautiful,” she said. And she meant it. The damn thing brought tears to her eyes. Seven gorgeous black crows captured in flight, their wings so delicate and intricate they looked like they might sprout from her skin at any second.
Stacey preened. “I think it’s some of my best work. I’m so happy you like it.”
Killian swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I love it. Thank you.”
A little while later she was bandaged and ready to go. It felt like a sunburn on her back, but that was the extent of the pain. She already knew how to take care of it, so she only half listened as she was given instructions. She just nodded and raised a brow when Stacey gave Dash her number.
“You know she’s, like, at least six years older than you, right?” she asked once they were outside. It was a warm spring day and the breeze felt nice through her T-shirt.
He shrugged. “What do you care?”
Killian scowled at his tone. “I don’t.”
“Good.”
They walked to his motorcycle in silence. She couldn’t stand when there was tension between them. “Thanks for coming with me. You didn’t have to.”
Another shrug before he swung his leg over the seat. “We’re in this together.”
She stood there, reluctant to climb on behind him. “Do you regret it?”
When he looked at her, there wasn’t any annoyance in his gaze, just friendship. Caring. “No. I’d do anything for you, Kill. You know that.”
“I do. But I know how much you hate lying.”
“I’m not lying. I’m just not saying anything. But just so we’re straight, you can still say something.”
“No. It’s too late.”
“Kill…”
“It’s too late,” she insisted, finally getting onto the bike. “This tattoo is a reminder of that, same as yours. It’s our secret now, whether we want it or not. No one can ever know, Dash. Jason can never know.”
Thirteen
They told Megan they’d called an Uber, but Killian called Story and asked to hire her to take Megan and Willow to the airport. The rate the woman gave her was laughably cheap, but Killian didn’t argue. At least Story was going to take her money. She hated being in anyone’s debt.
Story had asked about her sister, what she was like, et cetera. When she showed up at the house she was driving a sensible SUV with video screens, a selection of kid movies, snacks in the back, and heated seats in the front. She had her brown hair curled and loose and wore a cream sweater and a pair of jeans. She looked like a soccer mom. A safe, unassuming woman who Killian was pretty sure knew at least six different ways to kill someone and make sure the body was never found.
Megan smiled when she saw her. “She looks nice. Thanks for arranging this, Killy.”
Killian put the suitcases in the back of the SUV. It was a dark blue, her sister’s favorite color. Story had hit just enough details to put her sister at ease. There was no way Killian could thank her for that. “It’s the least I could do. Have a good trip, Meg. Try to have some fun, for Willow.”
Her sister nodded. “I’ll talk to Cam, too, I promise.” Her gaze was unflinching. “I’ll tell him about Shannon and…everything.”
Killian hugged her. “It’s going to be okay.” She squeezed her as hard as she dared to let her know she meant it. And maybe to prove it to herself as well.
“I know.” Sniff. “Please be careful,” Megan whispered, squeezing her back. A bruise on her midriff protested the pressure, but Killian didn’t pull away.
“I will.”
Story helped Willow into the back seat and showed her how to operate everything, including the headphones she’d brought so the adults didn’t have to listen to whatever Pixar movie she wanted to watch. Megan turned to Dash, who had joined them. “You’ll watch her back, right?”
He smiled easily. “And any other part that needs watching.”
Megan actually laughed a little at that. “I better get going or we’ll be late.” Then to Killian: “I’ll give Mom your love.”
Killian didn’t argue. It had been weeks since she talked to her mother, who’d made the move to Florida while Killian was still in prison. It wasn’t that she resented her mother for going. Her mother had believed her when Killian told her about the abuse, had gotten rid of that asshole and gotten Killian away from him. Her mother had tried to give her a good life, tried to put the pieces of her back together. What Killian resented her mother for was not being able to love her even though she was broken.
Her sister climbed into the vehicle. Killian closed the door and stepped back, raised her hand in a wave. A few minutes later the SUV backed out of the drive onto the street. A very excited Willow waved through the back window, the headphones already on. The promise of Disney had erased her fear of the night before. You had to mess a kid up pretty bad for it to stick.
“I need to stop by the shop,” Dash told her as they got into his car.
“Going to put me to work paying back what I owe you?” she joked.
“Not a bad idea, but no. I need to order some parts and check in on a custom job the guys are doing.”
“Another celebrity?”
His lips curved in a tiny smile. “Something like that.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’ve built my entire career—hell, my life—on keeping my mouth shut. The customer wants discretion, they get it.”
Killian nodded as she buckled her seat belt. “Fair enough.” Then: “Can I at least see it?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. You can see it.”
They were on the highway, doing a little better than the speed limit, when he asked, “So what are you going to do about Rank?”
“If he owns up to killing Wex, I’ll play by his rules. If he doesn’t, I’m going to have to do something. I can’t let him think he can get away with pinning it on me.”
“I don’t think he had any intention of getting away with it.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Dash glanced at her, then back to the road. “From what I’ve heard, he’s planning on either killing you or you killing him. He’s not particularly concerned about the cost, or who gets caught in the crosshairs.”
“He promised me he wouldn’t hurt Shannon.”
“And he probably won’t, unless he suddenly decides it serves his needs.”
“Fuck. Then it won’t matter if I kill him—he’ll have his revenge. He threatened to tell her about her parents, Dash.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel. “How would he know anything about them?”
“That’s what I want to know. I’d also like to know who took that photo of Wex and sent it to the SOBs.”
“I can try to find out. I know someone who knows someone.”
“Of course you do,” she said with a laugh and a shake of her head. “This new gig has really got you connected, hasn’t it?”
“It’s not new, Killy. I’ve been part of it for a few years now, and I’ve built a reputation within the network. I deliver what they need and they give me what I need.”
“Are they hiring?” She was only half joking.
“Say the word and I’ll make some introductions.”
It had to be better than pouring beer. “What’s the pay like?”
Dash shook his head. “My house is paid in full; so is my
car. My business is in the black, and the loan from the bank will be paid off in two months. And every cent is legit. I pay taxes. I have an offshore bank account and enough investments to secure my retirement. Retirement, Killy. As in, living to get old enough to retire.”
It had been something they joked about as kids. None of them thought they’d live to see sixty, so they didn’t worry about getting old, or the future. They figured they’d be poor thugs forever, maybe roll in some cash now and again—spend it as fast as they could.
“I’m proud of you,” she said in a low voice.
He reached over and squeezed her leg. “Thanks.”
She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing with her when his life was on such an upward trajectory and hers was…well, hers wasn’t. She didn’t ask, though, because it was a needy, stupid thing to ask. He was with her because they were friends. Because they had history.
Because he fucking cared about her. Even she was smart enough to see that. She cared about him, too; otherwise he wouldn’t have been the first person she ran to when Shannon was taken.
“I didn’t sleep with you just to scratch an itch,” she blurted.
He looked confused. “I know.”
“Good.” She stared out the window.
They were both fairly silent for the rest of the drive. Killian would’ve loved to know what he was thinking, but if Dash wanted her to know, he’d share. He rarely wasted time doubting himself or second-guessing. He’d been the one to tell her it served little purpose. Make a decision, see it through, and deal with any consequences.
There were several vehicles in the shop lot, not including the employee ones parked out back. “I have to go inside for a minute,” Dash told her suddenly. “I’ll meet you in the shop.”
His curtness was a little odd, but Killian shrugged it off. “Okay.” It would give her time to snoop into his business. She got out of the ’Vette, shoved her hands in her pockets, and made her way to the open bay doors.
The shop was bigger than she’d anticipated. There were at least four, maybe five cars being worked on at the same time and crews of at least three guys on each job. She saw a Porsche, a Ducati, a Lamborghini, and a…Volkswagen.
