Escape (The Covington Heights Crew Book 1)

by Deana Birch

  Heaven. It was fucking heaven. I kicked off my heels and the cool floor gave my feet instant relief. Once I’d handled my business, I washed my hands and the huge tub mocked me from the mirror.

  I was a girl who loved a bath. The simple escape had offered me much solace over the years. I dried my hands on a fluffy white towel and decided I needed to just sit in the tub for ten seconds. I didn’t even need bubbles or water. The act alone would offer reprieve and soothe my body and mind. I was sure of it.

  With a cautious step, I climbed in. The gleaming porcelain was more spacious and welcoming than I’d imagined. I closed my eyes and relaxed. Ten seconds was not enough, and I stopped counting. Fictional water warmed over me and I got further lost in my lies.

  The week’s events washed away. The stress of facing my mother whenever she showed up disappeared. And the stupid mess of Anton and Leo evaporated. It was just me, in that calm moment.

  “Technically, I think you’re supposed to do that naked and with water.”

  My eyes flew open and my cheeks flushed. Anton leaned against the doorway with his eyebrows raised.

  “Shit. Sorry. How long have I been here?”

  He crossed his arms. “Well, after ten minutes I started to worry.” There was something soft that passed over his face and it didn’t suit him. “Then, after five minutes of watching you, I had to convince myself you hadn’t eaten my cabinet of pills and were still alive.”

  Pity was worse than deception, of that I was sure. I straightened my posture. “Sorry. I’ll go.”

  Anton approached the side of the bath, and sat on the edge. “You could stay. Have your bath, then sleep wherever you want.” His eyes raced over mine. “There’s no point in you going home. Violet’s with Lisa, right?”

  His soft tone and invitation lured me in, further proof of the imposter life I wanted to lead. He offered his hand. I took it, because I was a fool.

  Anton whispered in my ear, “Take a bath then come to bed. You’re safe.”

  His slithering words were the perfect counterpart to all the falsehoods already brewing in my brain. Someone should have shaken me, woken me from the spell and reminded me that it wasn’t real.

  I chewed my bottom lip. He’d gone from ‘sleep whereever you want’ to ‘come to bed’ within seconds. The fight in me was gone, extinguished by fatigue and confusion. Anton pushed on his knees and stood. “Nothing happens unless you say. You know that.”

  He’d proved to be a fan of consent with his kiss, but it didn’t mean I was on board to sleep in the same bed. But fucking hell, I wanted a bath. Giving myself permission to be selfish wasn’t easy, but in the quiet of the night, behind closed doors, maybe no one would see.

  “Could I have a T-shirt to sleep in?”

  Anton nodded and left the bathroom. I started the water in the tub and piled my hair on top of my head.

  “You’re not going to fall asleep in there, are you?” Anton handed me a plain white V-neck.

  I shook my head and he left me alone, leaving the door ajar. It was silly to be bashful—he wasn’t watching—but I stripped quickly and sank into the hot water before the bath was full. My muscles relaxed and I went back to the muted place in my head where I allowed myself to exist without judgment or emotion. I simply was.

  The water cooled too quickly and I dried myself with a thick white towel. I brushed my teeth with my finger and some toothpaste then slipped on the crisp cotton T-shirt. It hit mid-thigh, the perfect pajama. I couldn’t bear to look at my reflection. I was still lingering in a state without conviction.

  At the doorway I hit the light to the bathroom and padded over to the bed, where Anton lay on his back with one arm behind his head. I was grateful that his eyes were closed. Their probing assessment would have been too much.

  Chapter Twelve

  Leo

  I’d tossed, turned, groaned and twisted in my sheets all night. Fiona had been pissed at me for something, but it was me who was fuming—and I knew exactly why.

  I didn’t want her with him. But worse, this jealousy, this possessiveness was waking up a side of me that I’d been trying to escape from. It allowed dark thoughts to seep in like a lingering foul odor. It had me imagining ways to hurt Anton—creative ways, pleasurable ways…long, drawn-out, painful ways.

  And it was ridiculous. It wasn’t like I was in love with her, for Christ’s sake. Yeah, I liked her, but the rest was surely just lust. There weren’t butterflies in my belly flittering around with just the sight of her.

  The desire to keep her safe and make her mine was foolish. My lust and attraction were distracting me from my main goal—to stay put and not turn into my father. The front door finally shut and I took it as the all-clear of her being gone. I’d stayed in bed longer than normal to avoid them both and to try to tame my runaway thoughts.

  After my shower, I found Anton exactly where I’d left him the night before. He sat at the island alone, but instead of the bottle of beer he’d been drinking , he had a liter of water. He wiped his chin with the bottom of his inked-up forearm, shot me a look and chuckled.

  “Stop eying me like you’ve decided to slit my throat while I sleep.”

  “I—”

  Anton raised his eyebrows, daring me to deny it.

  “You—” he said, drawing out the word, “have a problem, which means that I have a problem. I don’t much care for problems, Leo. This you know.”

  He was right. And we’d known each other too long to pretend otherwise. But it didn’t make me happy about confronting the shit I’d already spent half the day torturing myself with.

  I went to the fridge, pulled out the carton of eggs and started making my lunch. Breakfast had been long abandoned.

  “So here’s how I see it. Someone has to back down. And, considering that I’m the leader of this crew, it ain’t gonna be me.”

  If I’d have looked at him, my eyes would have probably cut him deeper than any knife. Well, maybe not. There was a survival knife we’d used on camping trips when I was a kid that my dad had deemed ‘the sharpest knife in the world’. With the right thrust and angle, that baby would have gutted my so-called friend in a second.

  I hummed at the idea.

  “All right. Simmer down.”

  “I haven’t said a fucking thing.” I beat the eggs a little harder and frowned.

  “No. But you did that throat thing you do when you’re about ready to go into robot, ass-kicking mode.”

  Had I? I shook it off with a shiver.

  Anton continued with a little smirk. “Nothing happened. Jesus and two Marys… She slept on the couch and was gone when I woke up.”

  “But I just heard the door…”

  “Scooter.” Anton pointed to a grease-stained paper bag. “My lunch.”

  I let out a long breath and some of the ice that had been running through my veins thawed.

  “She took, like, the longest bath in the world and I fell asleep. She never got in bed with me. I would have woken up with the movement.”

  I poured my egg mixture into the frying pan and it sizzled with the contact. I stirred around the yellow liquid as it fluffed to life.

  “So what do you want me to do?” I finally asked as I plated my food.

  “I want you to stop thinking about beating my ass and make me some money. I agreed to let you live here and you knew the rules.”

  I cut off a steamy bite with the edge of my fork, still standing over the cooktop. I did know the rules. Anton and I both understood that I was innately more dangerous than he was, and that was saying something. But in order for my so-called safehouse to work, none of his crew could know that. I’d already slipped up the day I’d been too hard on Golden Boy.

  If I didn’t yield to Anton on Fiona, I would have to go. He’d cut me a pass for the fighting because I was toughening up his number three guy. He didn’t care if I was physical with Fiona, as long as he had first taste. There was no jealousy in him for women. He’d never been in the position of needi
ng it.

  After a long, silent stare, he got up and went to the door. “I’m sparring with Jackson. Figure out how to solve my problems instead of being one.”

  I decided to share a cut of my money from the night before. It would give me some of the leverage I was missing. The plate landed in the sink with a clank and I was out of the door to sell drugs in no time.

  At the bench, Scooter stood as I approached. I greeted the lower-ranking members of the crew with clasped hands and back taps then found my seat, confirming my rank. Second in charge. Second in line for Fiona. Second son.

  A familiar and adorable giggle caught my ear and I strained to find Fiona in the park. The fact that she hadn’t thrown herself at Anton had to be some kind of sign—or maybe she was just being stubborn. It was definitely in her character. I probably shouldn’t flatter myself. It would only add to my undeniably over-active imagination.

  Still with no sight of her, I stood and put my hands on my hips. Violet played on the slide with J.J., their soft toys taking rides instead of them. I pulled out my phone from my back pocket and called Fiona’s. When she didn’t answer, I tracked it. It placed her upstairs in her apartment. But then why was Violet in the park?

  I had to stop obsessing. Ever since she’d come running at me, I’d invented threats to her safety. Mac was just a spook. The BTs wouldn’t touch her now that they’d seen her with us. I was losing my mind. And I really needed to assess why and how Fiona had become the cause. Maybe she’d just needed a nap or was making lunch to bring it down.

  Believing those theories would have been much easier if my gut wasn’t aching that something was off—that Fiona and her phone were not in the same place. My instincts chipped away at me and the only sound I could hear was my blood throbbing between my ears.

  Scooter said something about his girlfriend not answering his texts, but I swatted him away like an annoying fly. I scanned the courtyard on my way over to the sad excuse for a park.

  “Leo!” Violet smiled at me and reached her arms overhead.

  I scooped her up and kissed her head. When had I started doing that? “Hey, munchkin.”

  As I tickled Violet under her arms and reminded myself I was overreacting, I walked over to Lisa. “Hey.”

  She startled and stood straighter. “Hi.” Lisa avoided my gaze. It didn’t look like she was breathing.

  “Why do you have Violet?”

  Still no eye contact.

  I gave Violet one last tickle then set her down slowly. I waited for her to go back to the slide. With a shocking amount of calm in my voice, I asked, “Lisa, where is Fiona?”

  My tone finally snapped her eyes up. “I…I don’t know.”

  Standing still was the easiest and hardest thing I’d done in my life. “Go on.”

  Lisa rubbed her upper arm and her posture rounded. “She got Violet pretty early this morning, then was back about two hours ago. She had obviously been crying and said she’d had a fight with her mom. She asked if I could watch Violet while she got some air. Apparently her mom had crashed and Violet was restless. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know. I didn’t think she would be gone this long.”

  I spun around and started marching toward the entrance to our building. There was no need to question Lisa any further. I had all the information that I needed. Maybe Fiona was just hiding in the stairwell, had gone back to sit on the couch while her mom slept it off—or was taking another bath somewhere, hopefully not on the other side of my apartment.

  “Leo!” Scooter ran up to me with a bleak and painful expression etched on his face. “They took her,” he huffed out. “The BTs have Callie.” On the screen of his phone, Scooter showed me a picture of his girlfriend from a side angle. Her wrists were bound behind her with a white plastic tie and her head hung down. Her light pink hair framed her face, making it impossible to see if they’d hit her.

  A second froze then passed as I remembered that Callie lived on the north-most block of our territory. It would have been easy for Bradford to watch her, know she was Scooter’s and that this would be a blow to one of our top members. Scooter waited for me to say something and searched my face with his anxious blue eyes.

  Right. I was meant to be in charge of shit like this.

  “Come on.” I grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed a few times. “Let’s go upstairs and make a plan.”

  “We need to get her now!”

  “I know.” I hoped my level voice would bring him some calm. “But we need a plan.”

  And I needed to locate the woman who was most likely next on their list. I called Rafa and told him to meet us at our place. Jackson and Anton were still in the gym, so I filled them in and they followed us across the hall.

  Once in the apartment, Scooter paced in front of the flatscreen, muttering curse words and whimpering pleas. He wasn’t going to be any help.

  Rafa had a laptop and brought up a satellite map of Bradford Towers. Anton sat next to him and Jackson and I looked over their shoulders.

  Our Golden Boy hacker began, “So we know that Bradford’s setup is the same as ours.” He zoomed in the screen. “They mostly live in building four. The others are either full of junkies or rats.”

  Jackson shivered and I cocked a brow at him.

  “I fucking hate rats.”

  I rolled my eyes. A confession like that would have earned an insult from my father, followed by a fear-facing exercise where rats were the least of my problems. Lucky for Jackson, his dad had taught him how to play ball instead.

  Rafa continued, “They don’t have anywhere else to take her and they are correct in assuming that we are coming for her, so, I guarantee she’s in that building.”

  Scooter had stopped his frantic pacing and peeked over my shoulder. His skin was covered in sweat and he pounded his fist into the opposite palm. “Let’s go then. We get the whole crew, a bunch of bats and we storm the place.”

  Anton turned around and glared at Scooter. “You… Go sit on the couch and shut the fuck up. This isn’t West Side Story.” Then he looked at me. “We go, we get her, we come back—least amount of casualties, maximum amount of power. It sends the message that we’re smarter and leaner.”

  Rafa began frantically typing, and code ran up and down his screen. “Give me five minutes.”

  “I’ll shower.” Anton, who was still in his workout clothes, stood and headed down the hall.

  “He can’t be serious,” Scooter complained. “Callie is probably getting raped this very second and he’s going to fucking shower?”

  This time it was Jackson who scolded him. “We get it, Scoot. But this is the kind of shit that only Anton has experience with. You have to trust him.”

  Rafa kept banging on his keyboard, occasionally encouraging it in a sweet voice. It was almost like he was trying to seduce it. He spoke in Portuguese, which only made it more entertaining. Perhaps it was wrong to enjoy his hacking during such a tense time, but I had no emotional attachment to Callie. It was why Anton and I were going in alone.

  Jackson was a teddy bear, and if push came to shove—which it just might—he would flinch and think about his son. Rafa would drive. He knew the streets better than any of us, and Jackson, with his imposing frame, would stay home and keep the minions calm.

  There was only one problem. Once the spray of the shower stopped, I walked back to Anton’s room. He sat on his bed, threading his legs into black jeans.

  “Fiona’s missing.”

  Anton finished getting dressed, his silence code for more of an explanation.

  “Lisa said she had a fight with her mom and took off,” I explained.

  “And?”

  I closed my eyes and worked through the logic that Anton had managed in only seconds. They didn’t have her. We would have known immediately if they did. The BTs were braggy fucks—case in point, Callie’s photo sent to Scooter. If they had Fiona, they would have been flaunting her like a flag on Independence Day.

  “Listen… The cops usually let
us eat our own up here, but they will step in if we pile up dead bodies. Try not to kill anyone.”

  Isn’t that the whole point of me being in Covington?

  I shook my head and said, “Quick jabs to the arteries in the neck. Remember… Most of them are stoned half the time. It should be easy.”

  Anton grinned, it was devilish, inappropriate, sinful and matched my own. “Might be fun.”

  We walked into the kitchen as Rafa was proclaiming his undying love to his computer.

  “I have eyes on the streets.” He slid the laptop toward us and a live feed from the traffic lights around Bradford Towers appeared in four grainy squares on the screen. The twinkle in Rafa’s golden eyes matched the happy nerves twitching in my body. I hadn’t gone full throttle on anyone in months.

  Anton went over to Scooter and took him by the shoulders at arm’s length. “We’re going to walk in there, get your girl and walk out. You’re going to stay here and wait. When we walk back through the door, all this whimpering will cease. You will be her rock.”

  I went over to Jackson. “If you see Fiona, bring her here. They’re not going to like what we’re about to do and she’s on their list.”

  Anton joined us. “Jackson, get on that bench and keep everyone in check.”

  Jackson blinked his understanding and left before us. Rafa explained his theory on the best way to get in and we were driving north within fifteen minutes. He dropped us off next to a narrow back street and we hopped a few fences until we were behind Bradford Four.

  As we pushed our backs against the filthy wall, I whispered, “I’m dying to hit someone. Mind if I go first?”

  The metal handle of the door made a loud click from the other side and I moved on the lone scout before he’d even realized we were there. I put him in a cross choke and his eyes bugged out with fright. The smile that pulled at my cheeks was both evil and genuine.

  “Which floor?” Anton asked as I squeezed tighter.

  Realization flushed up his face and he said the word, ‘five’ just before I cut off all the blood to his bald, tattooed head. I gave him an unneeded headbutt and let him fall to the ground with a light thud. Fucking bliss.