by S. Massery
He guides the helmet onto my head and points to the bike. He climbs on, and I grudgingly follow, putting my hands on his waist.
Oh, how I hate him.
He starts it and flips up the kickstand, and suddenly the wind is tearing at us as we fly through downtown Miami.
I close my eyes, gripping his jacket tighter, until the bike slows. I open my eyes and glance around us, not especially surprised to find us in the right neighborhood. I point to a small house, set close between two others. The porch light is on, and Dad’s room is lit up, too.
I climb off the bike, straightening my dress before I yank off the helmet. He watches me through narrowed eyes and I stare at him for a beat, then turn and walk up the driveway.
“Goodnight, Grace,” he says.
“Night, asshole,” I call back. I flip him off for good measure, and his answering laugh tightens my chest. I don’t have time to deal with this shit.
I’m pretty sure he just opened a can of worms for my dad and me, and I don’t even know his name.
2
DALTON
I set my helmet back on the bike and turn toward the shadows. “You’re not subtle,” I say. I’m tired, cranky, and in a bad fucking mood.
Luca steps out with his hands in his pockets.
“You come to yell at me?”
He shakes his head. “I came to tell you the mob put out a hit on you.”
I nod. “Right. That was fast.”
“You storm into the boss’s office with his enforcer’s kid attached to your hip. This is going to blow back on both of you.” He shrugs like I should’ve known better.
I mean, I should’ve. I should’ve kept my opinions to myself.
“You’re in this for the money, yeah? You just threw away a well-paying job—fuck, no one is going to hire you after this. You turn on your client, you’re done. Blacklisted.”
“You would’ve let them take her? She would’ve been in Europe before her family realized she was gone. And after that—poof.” Call me a sap, but I have a soft spot for victims of human trafficking. It wasn’t my fault I got an inkling for it on this job. The sinking feeling in my stomach just got worse as the night went on. And when the boss’s son drove up with her…
He laughs. “What the fuck difference does one girl make? Why her? You’ve seen the way these guys operate. They never take the heat. They own this city.”
Private security freelancer. Need an extra hand? I’m your guy. I’m a good long shot, too. Hell, I’m the fucking best long-distance defense you’ve got. And I know that this line of work means dealing with assholes. I get it. But what I can’t get behind?
Bigger assholes than me.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s this: it’s really hard to be a bigger dick than me.
Still, these guys might take the cake.
I shake my head. “If I knew they were into that, I never would’ve put on the fucking uniform.”
“You would’ve turned it down?” Luca shakes his head. He has a heart of ice, I’ll tell ya. Man doesn’t wince at anything—and I’ve seen him do some dubious shit, too. “I should put a bullet in your brain and collect the cash from the boss.”
“We have too much history for that. Plus, I’m faster at the draw. And a better shot.” I roll my eyes.
Him and I go way back. Not far enough back for him to stick his neck out and help me out of this, but I appreciate the warning he’s giving me. I already knew I was screwed from the moment I saw Javier’s son and his friend drag Grace into the club through my scope.
Her struggle caught my attention. I was assigned lookout, and the guys on the radio were too fucking chatty. I had lowered the volume, letting it filter through as white noise, until I heard them give the signal to clear the lower floor.
“The girls are coming down,” one of the men I was working with had said. “Truck’s out back.”
I don’t remember moving until I found myself crossing the street. Then, it was just a matter of getting into the building and down the stairs. Violence makes some of my humanity recede. I don’t care one way or the other, it’s just fact. Killing up close is a different sort of high, but recently, I’ve been chasing it more often.
Raising the gun against guys I’d been working with for a few years was almost too easy.
Loyalty is hard to come by, and trust is an even harder pill to swallow. I have one family. One tribe. And now, I have one mission: save the girl.
I didn’t think they’d still be in the hallway. That was my first mistake.
Never let the enemy see you. Rule number one shattered under their stares. The son had his hand wrapped around her throat. I almost put a bullet in his head right then, and that level of anger made me freeze. I fucking choked.
“Just give it some time,” Luca advises. “Go on a vacation. Relax for once in your life.”
I roll my shoulders, ignoring the fact that the last time I went on a vacation, his brother died. “I have some business out of town,” I say. And because Grace is safe at home, I need to get the hell away from her. She managed to rattle me from five hundred yards away. I don’t understand it.
Women are confusing.
I pick my helmet back up, keeping it under my arm. I unlock the door to my apartment. I’m in and out in two minutes, and Luca is still in the same spot when I reemerge. He folds his arms over his chest as I pack my duffle bag into the storage on the back of my bike. It isn’t a lot of worldly possessions, but then again, I never thrived on material items. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“They catch you, you never saw me.”
“Of course.” I strap my backpack on—an old pack from the military, it clips across my chest and around my waist—and put my helmet back on. Fucking hell, the inside of it smells like a woman’s shampoo. It’s more of a turn on than it should be. I never thought I’d be the type to enjoy a girl on the back of my bike, but here we are. “See ya on the flip side.”
“Hey,” he yells. “Don’t get caught, yeah?”
I chuckle. “No chance in hell.”
I fly down the side streets, and the wind howls past me. I roll Grace’s name around in my head, replaying our conversation. Damn it if I don’t find myself smirking.
Another motorcycle roars up next to me, and I barely glance over before I hit the brakes. The Argento flies ahead of me, riding one-handed. His other hand is braced on his thigh, a gun flashing under the streetlights.
I veer onto a different street, gunning it toward an intersection. I could stop and fight, but part of me just wants to get out of town and deal with this tomorrow. A bullet ricochets off the pavement next to me. Even though it’s a lousy shot, it kick-starts my adrenaline.
Game on.
I flex my fingers on the handbrake, and I screech to a halt, putting the weight of the bike on the front tire to swing in a one-eighty. I draw my gun before I’m fully stopped, and my pursuer slows to a halt in front of me.
He flips his helmet visor up. It’s the friend who helped the son drag Grace into the building. The one who laughed when his buddy had his hands wrapped around her throat.
I click the safety off. “Did they send you to teach me a lesson?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
I just shake my head. “Tell me—what was your plan for her?”
“You really came recommended,” he says. “But you should know the Argentos love a good chase.”
I consider just shooting him. It’d make him shut up, it would send a message, but it would put an even bigger target on my head. Like Luca said, at this point I can go away, let things cool down, and come back to Miami. Or…
Killing him would pit the whole mob against me.
While that sounds fun, maybe not today.
“Chase me, then,” I snarl. I slam my visor back down and accelerate toward him. I take ahold of his arm as I pass, lifting him clean off his bike and dropping him to the pavement. I tuck my gun back into its holster, leaning hard into a turn. Less th
an ten seconds later, I’m on the highway, weaving in and out of late-night travelers.
It’s my fault. I haven’t had an irrational moment in a long time—in a way, I was due for one. This just happened to be bigger… worse than I could’ve predicted. In the back of my mind, I wonder what sort of backlash Grace will get.
Oh well. Can’t do anything now.
3
GRACE
One month later
My first taste of violence was at the hands of my father.
I saw what he did to people who left him. To people who opposed him. It was burned into my brain at a young age: do not defy him. Later, I learned that most of the bloodshed was ordered by the man I called uncle. My father was his enforcer. When Javier’s word was tested, my father made sure people felt its echo.
When I’m called into my father’s office, I go quickly. It’s how I’ve always moved, even if I’m so tired my bones ache. I step inside. Javier in Dad’s chair behind his old oak desk, my father standing off to the side. My stomach twists.
“Hello, Uncle,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“We were just discussing you, Grace,” Javier says. “Please, sit.”
I risk a glance at my father, and Javier bursts into laughter.
“You don’t need his permission. Sit.”
I perch on the edge of the chair, hardly able to take a breath. He’s left me alone since the rogue guard dragged me into his office. I expected some form of punishment, but we went on with our lives.
I got a job and I’ve been squirreling away tips with my eyes set on freedom. Most of the girls in the family don’t work. They’re kept women, so to speak. So it was my little secret until I ran into Frank last night, dressed in my uniform. And unfortunately, I have a feeling that has to do with Javier’s visit tonight, even after I begged Frank not to say anything.
“Tell me, Grace, what’s it like working at The Nest?”
I lift my chin. “What do you mean?”
“How do you feel, parading around in little more than scraps of cloth? Does the Argento name give you any protection?”
“No,” I say in a low voice. If things get too rough, the bosses pull me out of the pit and put me behind the bar. I never thought I’d be good at pouring drinks, taking money, listening to the rapid-fire conversation of the club patrons… but it’s fun. Exciting. I’ve learned more in a month than I have in the past twenty-six years of my life. And that’s saying something, considering the bachelor’s degree I picked up through online schooling.
As a plus, The Nest has no connection to the mob. Or maybe that’s a negative, if I were to ask Javier. Our last name is Jones, which is one of the most unassuming surnames a girl can have. Sal Jones strikes fear into the hearts of criminals in Southern Florida, but Grace Leigh Jones? Ordinary.
Javier tsks, leaning forward on the desk. “Your father and I have been talking, Grace.”
“Oh?”
“About how…” His eyes go up and down my body. “You’re a woman now.”
Oh no.
“And women in this family get married.”
I swallow, not daring to look at my father. I don’t want to know his opinion on this—whether he’s happy or ashamed or—
“Look at me, Grace,” Javier snaps.
“Yes, Uncle,” I murmur. Habit. It’s such a habit to be quiet around him. To agree with what he says. It’s hard not to point out that we’re technically not in this family. We’ve always been apart. Dad is a rabid dog on the Argento leash, and I don’t fit into the picture at all.
“We’ve forgiven you for your part in the Morning Star mess—”
“The devil,” my father spits. “How you could get on the back of his bike—”
Javier holds up his hand, and Dad quiets.
“We’ve forgiven you,” Javier continues, “but now this job? Keeping it a secret?” He shakes his head. “You’re going to marry my son. Perhaps he can keep you under control, unlike your father.”
Dread pools in my stomach. The need to throw up comes out of nowhere, but I clamp my tongue to the roof of my mouth and say nothing. A life married to a monster is no life at all. My worst nightmare is coming true.
“Oh god,” I whisper, rising from the chair and rushing out. I make it to the bathroom and lock the door behind me, diving for the toilet. I barely make it before I puke.
Marriage. To Marco.
What feels like eons later, I stand. My legs are weak, and I put my hand on the wall for support. All my life, Dad’s had my back. He has an iron will and a knack for making people do things they don’t want to do, but he’s never turned that on me.
Okay, he has. Just not in the permanent, life-altering way.
“Grace.” Dad knocks on the door. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I call. I take a moment to rinse my mouth, then unlock the door and swing it open. When I enter the office, Javier is gone.
Dad’s face is shuttered. “A job, Grace? Do I not provide for you?”
I wince. “You do. Please, don’t—”
He grimaces at me. “Do not ask me for favors,” he snaps. “Javier’s word is law. We’ve talked about this—you know this in your bones. For the protection he offers, marriage is a small payment.”
“Marrying his son will be the worst thing I could do,” I huff. “Marco already thinks he owns me.”
“Stop,” Dad murmurs. His face is red, like he’s trying to suppress his temper. “It will be done, and I won’t hear another word from you. This is what you will be, Grace: a good daughter. A patient wife. You’ll go to church and sit with the Argentos. You will move in with Marco. Have his children. Love him—or at least fucking pretend to love him, child, because that is your future.” He shakes his head. “This is my way of saving you.”
“Your way?” I whisper. “Did you choose this for me?”
He doesn’t answer. I can’t pull one from him when I don’t really want to know. It hurts, thinking the worst of your only family. So I turn away from him, closing the door quietly as I go.
The unfortunate truth is that there’s no one I can call to vent about this. I hung out with the twins up until they started hating me. They once left me in the woods, and I had to walk three miles back to civilization. It was dark by the time I got to a gas station and called my dad.
“You poor child,” my father had said, hugging me close.
My mother was close behind him.
“Lost in the woods? How could you be so foolish?”
I tried to tell him I wasn’t lost—I had been abandoned.
He gripped my chin, leaning down into my face, and said, “You got lost, Grace, when you wandered into the woods alone. It was stupid of you to do such a thing.”
My mother choked on a sob.
And me? I knew way before then to answer him, “Yes, Father.”
I shut myself in my room and start yanking clothes out of my closet. There’s a gun in my bedside drawer, but my stomach flips when I think of actually shooting someone. I could pack a bag just in case. Stay long enough to save up a bit more money, then disappear.
Dad pushes my door open without knocking, and I twist around.
His lip curls. “We need to discuss something.”
I swallow.
“Morning Star.”
His blue eyes have haunted my dreams. After he’d dropped me off and sped away, Marco had come bursting out of the house. He’d grabbed my arms—I knew already to play along from my conversation with Javier, like his son wasn’t the enemy—and pulled me into a hug. My skin had crawled at the contact. He’d pinched my upper arm until I slowly leaned into him.
It was a betrayal—my own body cared more about survival than the need to confess what had actually happened. And my mind? Well, it shut down.
“She’s safe!” he had shouted to my father.
They’d hauled me inside and sat me on the couch, and my dad wiped my cheek.
I’d tol
d them what happened… the version they needed to hear, anyway. That I had been dancing in the club. That one of the new boys had lured me away. That I had been stupid enough to follow him, thinking he recognized me. And while the lies poured out of my mouth, Marco’s eyes glittered.
Triumph.
I’d never felt so fucking dirty.
“What about him?” I ask. A hit had been placed on his head for killing some hired guards and breaking into Javier’s office, then took me—even if he was just taking me home. They didn’t know that (apparently). My father snarled every time his name was mentioned.
“You marrying Marco will protect you from the devil.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s just a man, Dad. And he’s gone. Ran out of the city.”
Frank had come back a hobbling mess. He had tried to go after Morning Star and failed—miserably. It brought me a sickening sort of satisfaction to learn of it, but I couldn’t let anyone see.
“What happened that night?” Dad asks.
I look out my window, refusing to meet his eyes. “Why are you asking now?”
“You’ve changed,” he says. “You never used to give a damn. But now you’re…”
Soft. Weak, I supply in my head.
“It’s for the best. Marco is the best option for you.”
What I’m hearing is: It’s his fault. It’s your fault.
They wouldn’t have sold me, like Morning Star insisted. It was a prank gone wrong, and people died. And now, I’m going to be chained to the worst man I know for the rest of my life.
“I don’t get a choice in this?” I ask.
He glares at me, and I look away again. Yeah, I didn’t think so.
I have one more thing to push, so I ask, “And the job?”
“You can keep it for now,” he says. “But only if you wear this.” He pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it to me.
I catch it in my palm and uncurl my fingers.
Horror floods through me. The engagement ring is giant. A verifiable rock. It may as well be an anchor dragging me to the ocean floor.
