Not My Heart to Break (Merciless World Book 3)

by W. Winters

  Derrick and I slept together last night.

  I’ve known Cami for half a decade. She’s slept with three men in her life before last night. Derrick is the fourth. All three were young love… for Cami. The guys told her they loved her, fucked her, and moved on. Derrick won’t do that. I know he won’t. He wouldn’t have touched her if he didn’t want more from her. He knows she means a lot to me. He told Cami that’s why he didn’t make a move sooner. He was afraid of getting into trouble with “the boss,” meaning Seth.

  So this is the end of ‘let’s take it slow’? I ask her.

  I have to wait a few minutes to get a response, and in the meantime, I text her about half a dozen times: How was it? How big is he? Where did it happen?

  It’s practically an interview when she finally texts back.

  He told the guys last night he was into me. He said he claimed me, like the guys used to do at the Clubhouse, you know? His dad and them.

  She rambles in her messages, sending them in chunks. And all the while my heart does a little flip for her. But also for me. Seth was fucking with me. Maybe he wanted to see if I knew. Dammit, I’m more disappointed than I should be that I’m not in on a secret Seth doesn’t know of.

  He said if I’m with him, we’re exclusive. That he’ll be out late some nights, but it’s for work. He said I can’t ask questions and I have to trust him. He told me that it’s hard for some girls to trust like that and he asked me if I could.

  And you said yes? Right? I text back with my questions even though I already know she did. Cami knows everything I’ve been through with Seth. Late nights after we’ve had fights are the worst. It’s easy to think he’s just avoiding me, that he’s off somewhere trying to get me—and our fight—off of his mind.

  Those nights, I called Cami.

  She’d come over or stay with me on the phone, easing my worries. Somewhere deep down, I knew Seth wasn’t going to leave me, but it didn’t make the thoughts in my head stop. We’ve had three big fights, all about the stupid shit he does and how we can get out of it. All three times, I watched that clock. All three times, he eventually came home, then sat next to me like he belonged there. Even if I wasn’t talking to him when he left. All three times, I kissed him hard, loving that he made the choice to come back to me.

  He’s a man who doesn’t leave. All of the guys in the crew are the same. Derrick will be to Cami what Seth is to me; I know it.

  She didn’t grow up in the life, but she gets it. Her dad was a truck driver and not around a lot. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for her? I don’t know. But she stays calm in the storm. Derrick’s lucky to have that.

  My phone pings.

  I told him to shut up and kiss me. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.

  This time I do squeal and I don’t bother to look up at the receptionist. She can deal with it.

  “Laura Roth?” a doctor calls out into the room, looking at a clipboard and lifting the papers before looking up to see me. The doctor looks young at first, but then I see the age around her eyes and mouth. She’s done up with dangling earrings, her brunette hair piled high in a bun, and a black dress under the professional white coat.

  I wave. Like an idiot. I’ll blame it on being caught off guard by Cami’s last text.

  “Come on back.” Her voice is calming yet chipper as she holds open the door and leads the way to whatever room we’re going to. “I’m Dr. June. It’s nice to meet you.” She’s polite and confident. I find myself making up stories about her on the way through the hall.

  I wonder if she has a date after work. Or maybe it was a lunch date. She’s even wearing heels and that seems like a bold choice. I’ve already picked out the white sneakers I want to wear when I’m a nurse.

  “Have a seat,” Dr. June says as she directs me to a blue examination table with vinyl upholstery that seems cheap but is probably easy to clean. It’s covered by a sheet of white paper that crinkles when I sit down.

  “So I see here you were at your gynecologist and she identified what she believes to be a potential arrhythmia?”

  I nod my head, remembering that day and a certain feeling in particular. I’m experiencing it again right now, this draining of everything inside of me right to the pit of my stomach.

  “Can you tell me when you first experienced these symptoms?”

  I move my gaze from her to the stark sink and the clear canisters filled with odd-shaped swabs. “I um—” I stop speaking to clear my throat. “I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been there, so I don’t really know.”

  “The chart indicates you grabbed your chest and seemed to struggle to breathe.” I can hear the paper fall as Dr. June drops the clipboard to her lap. “Is that a normal occurrence?”

  “I’d just found out.” It hurts all over again. “I went in because I was bleeding, and I’d just found out that I miscarried. I didn’t even know I was two months along.” My eyes prick with tears, but I keep them back. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. … So, no, it’s not a normal occurrence. I was just reacting to the situation.”

  “I can understand that,” Dr. June says and nods, trying to ease the thick tension. I hate this room. I hate being the one sitting on this table.

  She asks me the same questions the gynecologist did. If I’ve felt fatigued, light-headed, or experienced any rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath in the last six months. All of them are a yes, but it’s because of Seth and the shit he puts me through, so I lie, which I know I shouldn’t do, and tell her no.

  “I’ve already answered these for the other doctor, my gynecologist,” I say and cut her off from asking more questions, feeling like this is all déjà vu.

  “I know, but for the tests we have to conduct, we have to do this at our facilities.” Paperwork. Legalities.

  “I understand.”

  “So today, I’m going to listen to your heart and do a checkup of sorts. We’re also going to do an echocardiogram to take a look at what’s going on physically. It’s an ultrasound …” Her voice drones on as she lists what she has planned for me and her reasoning for the tests. I’ve already read up on it, so I’m ready. Her stethoscope is cold as she listens to my heartbeat, occasionally pausing to tell me to breathe in deep.

  All the while, I think about moments like this that I may face as a nurse. With me on the other side of things. If there’s ever a woman talking about her miscarriage and on the brink of tears, I promise myself not to keep a smile plastered on my face and tell her that I understand.

  You can never understand what anyone else’s pain is like. She doesn’t know Seth told me he wanted kids. And that I told him I didn’t; there was too much going on.

  I was already pregnant when I told him that. I put that out there into the universe, not knowing I was already carrying the baby Seth wanted. I practically asked fate to take that baby away from me. From us.

  I’ll never forgive myself for speaking those words out loud. For even thinking them. I wish I could take it back. I would if I could. You’re never ready for a baby.

  “You may want to ask someone to go with you.” Dr. June’s suggestion brings me back to the present.

  “For the stress test?” I clarify, shifting and making the paper crinkle under me. I was barely listening to her telling me I’ll have to come back in next week.

  “Yes. It’s just a treadmill and I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but it may be comforting to have someone with you.”

  I’m grateful the stethoscope is nowhere near me, suddenly worried that she can hear just how battered my heart feels. I don’t want to lie to her even more than I already have, so I don’t tell her I asked the only two people I have to come today and neither of them could.

  Seth

  From the parking lot of the old gas station, you could throw a stone and hit a car on the highway. It’s that damn close. It’s loud too as the three of us huddle for this meet.

  Behind me is the old worn-out sign, bleached by the sun b
ut you can still read Gas and Convenience Store. Under it is my crew. Roman, Connor and Liam are talking about something. I don’t know what. I can’t hear shit with the highway here.

  Derrick looks with me, and then tells me, “Should be simple.” Maybe he thinks he needs to ease my concerns, so I nod. “Yeah,” I respond.

  I can’t shake this feeling in my gut though. Ever since Laura came home from the doctor’s two nights ago, something feels off. Not just with her, but with work too.

  It’s like someone’s watching me. A gust of wind passes, and I the feeling comes over me again. I don’t like it.

  Leroy holds out his hand for a shake before saying a word. His crew’s behind him like mine is, at a distance and leaning against a black sedan. His grip is strong and he looks me in the eyes as he says, “I’m looking forward to doing more business with you fellas.”

  I can see in my periphery that Derrick’s lips kick up in an asymmetrical grin at “fellas.”

  Leroy’s from down south and he needs shipments coming in. We can provide that. We have in the past, but these should be steady, or so he claims. Shipments come into the dock, we collect, we deliver. Like Derrick said, should be simple.

  “You know our take,” I tell him and then my gaze is pulled past Leroy when one of his crew reaches behind him. My hand burns with the need to go for my gun when I see the quick motion, but the guy is just reaching for a smoke. With the cigarette in his mouth, he takes out a lighter from his back pocket and passes it to the guy next to him. “Fifteen percent,” I tell Leroy, keeping my expression easy, even though adrenaline is scorching through me.

  I know you need trust in these relationships. At least trust that they need the partnership and can’t afford to fuck you over. I have that with Leroy. I have for a year now although this proposition is new. I just can’t shake this feeling though.

  Not everyone is an enemy. But damn does it feel like they are sometimes.

  Leroy shifts his focus to Derrick, who’s silent. The gravel under his feet crunches noisily while we wait. “What if I increase the load, can your boys handle that?” he asks me, and I nod.

  “We got it covered.”

  Another second passes. “If I increase the product per shipment, seems like it should be dropped to ten percent, doesn’t it?”

  “How’s that?” Derrick pipes up. I roll out my right shoulder, watching Leroy’s men talking. A freight truck rushes by on the highway above them and two of them turn to look. It’s not a high-tension situation, but negotiations at the last minute aren’t welcome.

  “More product, more money, but you’re still only doing one run,” he explains to Derrick.

  “We agreed on fifteen,” I tell him.

  Leroy puts both of his hands up, a move that makes the men behind him still, their eyes focused solely on us now. Thump, thump my heart pounds and the back of my neck pricks. His hands are lowered as quickly as they went up, and his men settle. They’re watching closely now though.

  “I got a call yesterday. I may have more product than I thought. Terms for me have changed,” Leroy says then sniffs and thumbs the tip of his nose. “Like I said, it’s more product, more money, still one shipment. Ten percent of this load is more than fifteen percent of the previous.”

  “How much more?” I ask him.

  “Forty.”

  Forty thousand.

  I still hesitate and he adds, “How long have we been working together? Two years now? I don’t want to work with anyone else. You’re my guy.”

  Another truck goes by as I take in what he’s saying. I don’t like changing arrangements.

  “We’ve got the cash in the car,” he says. As he moves to call over one of the guys, I see a familiar car pull up to the gas station. It’s an old, light blue Mustang. The paint is worn out, but I think Jackson likes it that way.

  “We got company,” I murmur and nod my head for Leroy to see.

  “He’s not one of yours?” Leroy’s brow arches.

  “We have him contained, but he doesn’t get a paycheck,” I explain.

  “No exchange then?” he questions. I eye Jackson, parked at a pump and sitting there, not even bothering to get gas. Fucker.

  “No, we still exchange. We have a deal at twelve percent because it’s more work for us, more heat too if anything happens.” I hold out my hand for Leroy.

  It takes a few seconds, but he agrees and his handshake is just as firm as it was when he first pulled up. “It’s always nice doing business with you.”

  Turning to Derrick, I tell him to get the details and the cash—all twelve percent of it. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “Until next time,” Leroy says, giving me a nod as I walk off. Dust kicks up from the parking lot as I walk the twenty feet or so over to Jackson.

  The highway’s louder at the front of the store than on the side where the parking lot is. A car beeps on the bypass above, quick and short, but in multiple successions and it aggravates me just as much as the sight of Jackson does right now.

  I could fucking snarl, remembering how he got into Laura’s head.

  It takes everything in me not to grab him by his throat and slam him up against his car. The only reason I don’t do it is because of the deal going on behind me. If Leroy thinks I’m in over my head with the cops, he could back out. Shit, I would if it were me, but we need this cash. We need everything we have right now. The twelve percent from Leroy with a higher take? That’s good for us. I probably would have taken the ten given it’s still one run. A steady cash flow is what we need while we get the bar up and running.

  With my jaw clenched, I stare down at Jackson. My shoulders are tense and I breathe in the dusty air just to keep from screaming at this asshole.

  “Come to tell me you’re worried for me?” I raise my voice as I speak so he can hear, not changing the expression on my face.

  “Worried for you?” Jackson keeps his door open, standing with it between him and me and that makes me uneasy. I want his hands where I can see them. Which is ironic, given who he is.

  “Get out and shut the door,” I demand and he cocks his head, staring at me like this is a showdown.

  “You want to have this conversation while I’m thinking you’re hiding a gun between the two of us?” I question him and that gets him moving. The door shuts as another round of cars rushes behind us, below us. We’re surrounded by activity.

  Jackson’s my height and my build. Ever since we were kids, we were built the same. At least physically. Mentally, we were always opposites.

  Before he’s finished taking the two steps it takes to get close enough to talk, I tell him, “Don’t ever go to Laura again.” The threat in my voice is clear as day. I don’t do subtleties when it comes to her.

  Jackson isn’t fazed. It should piss me off, but instead I find myself questioning things.

  “She deserved a heads-up and so do you, which is why I’m here.”

  “You leave her to me,” I tell him again, gritting the words out between my teeth.

  “A moment of weakness,” he says and then glances at the pavement before looking me in the eyes. “I apologize.”

  My muscles twitch; my back feels like it’s tighter than a coiled rope ready to split and unravel.

  “Wright is a snitch,” Jackson says, changing the subject. My mind is still on Laura, still on the stress he caused her. Hearing Wright’s name though, the source of our intel and a lower-level mule for Mathews, catches my attention.

  “If he snitched to us, you don’t think he told Mathews?” Jackson questions me.

  “Told you what?”

  “You stole half a mil in product—at cost.” He emphasizes cost and it takes a lot for me to stay calm in this moment. I have to keep my voice low and even, show no emotion. Leroy’s men are watching.

  With that in mind, I look over my shoulder. Derrick’s at the corner of the store where I can see him. The car’s parked in the back. I imagine he’s having Roman do the bitch work of moving the
cash from one car to the other. As long as Derrick’s in view, I know everything’s going as planned.

  Other than what Jackson just told me. Wright’s a snitch.

  “It wasn’t us and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jackson shakes his head and sucks his teeth. “Don’t do that to me. Not with all the shit I’ve covered up for you. Don’t fucking do that to me.” I don’t expect the anger, or the hurt. That’s what it is in the way he looks at me with his nostrils flared. He’s hurt.

  “We’ve known about them coming down here. We grabbed Wright. We had him spilling everything. Then you go and fuck with them?” Contempt laces his last line.

  Clenching my fist and cracking my knuckles with my thumb, I take a moment. Letting this information sink in as I watch Leroy and Derrick shake hands before our respective crews part ways. Mine stays where they are, waiting for me while Leroy and his men take off in two vehicles, one after the other. Jackson and I both watch in silence.

  “These guys like Mathews don’t just get angry; they make examples of the people who steal from them.”

  “And you were going to stop him?” I question him. I remember when we were just kids. This is a small town and I knew all the neighborhood kids. We’d play cops and robbers back then. He was always the cop and I was always the robber. The “bang” of our toy guns didn’t come with the same kick back it comes with now.

  “We were getting the intel we needed to get the feds involved.”

  “Are they?” I ask him.

  “Are they what?”

  “Involved?”

  His gaze drops and I already have my answer. No. Mathews must not be big enough. Either that or Wright didn’t give them good enough intel.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask Jackson, wanting this conversation to be over so I can figure out how we’re going to handle this.

  “Come in—get protection. Especially for Laura. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Protection? I scoff at the very idea that Jackson would be bringing this shit up. “You remember what it was like. It does have to be like this.”