by Deana Birch
Anton snickered and we slipped inside the building. I led the way up the steps, and once we’d climbed four flights, we paused to listen.
Two voices chatted, one of which had a nervous cadence. “How big do you think their crew is, anyway?”
“I don’t know, but I would feel better if we had more guns. A girl I used to fuck from Covington told me that that Anton dude is like a brick fucking wall. He looks like he could bench press a truck.”
The compliment did nothing to Anton’s expression. We hadn’t come into their territory to get flattered. A shrieking scream echoed through the stairwell and the distraction was a perfect moment for us to move. We raced up the stairs and the two skinny excuses for security barely put up a fight.
Anton’s movements mirrored my own, quick alternating jabs with the edge of our hands at their necks and they were down. It was almost funny how unfair the matchup was.
With a look of pity and disgust at the two passed-out bodies below us, Anton said, “Jesus, don’t they even train?”
I pointed to the guy on the left, the one whose bloodshot eyes had filled with terror the second he’d seen us. “That one was high. Who puts a methhead on security?”
We listened at the door before cracking it open an inch. Down the long hallway, there were three more men, one with a handgun.
I signed what I saw to Anton, signaling that I would take the guy with the gun and he would take the two with bats. He pointed to his chest and made the universal sign for gun with his thumb and index.
No. It had to be me. I was quicker. I shook my head and stared into his light eyes. I silently transmitted something that he didn’t want to hear. I was better. Under any other circumstances—and certainly if there had been an audience—he would have objected again. Instead, he blinked his acceptance and we waited for our moment.
Maybe Callie knew she was about to be saved because, once again, her blood-curdling scream acted as the perfect match to the inferno of hurt we were about to lay on the three BTs guarding the door.
I shot down the hall, Anton at my heels. The bald fuck with the gun fired and missed, and the realization of his error spread on his hollowed-out cheeks. But it also sounded an alarm and our fight got a lot more crowded and seriously more dangerous.
Three more BTs, all carrying guns, poured out into the hallway. A perfect calm spread in my veins and all my years of repetitive training took over my body. As the first gunman lifted his weapon to my head, I grabbed the firearm with my left hand and held it tight in my palm at the same time as I hit his wrist and held it in a sloth grip so I didn’t break my thumb.
The element of surprise was still in our favor and Anton had the two other original guards already passed out on the floor. I spun my guy around and used him as a human shield, holding his nasty body tight to mine. It was circumstances like this where I understood my father’s insistence on being able to shoot a gun with both hands. Anton hid for cover behind me and I shot all three remaining rivals in their kneecaps. They fell to the ground as quickly as I’d shot them, and I whacked the carotid artery of the guy I’d been restraining. The only thing that was counter-intuitive was me not snapping his neck and shooting to kill.
Callie was naked on a mattress in the corner of the room. Anton swore under his breath before scooping her up fireman style and running out.
On the way down the stairs, I got a better look at the damage they’d done to Callie. Her eyes were swollen and her nose had been broken. She was mumbling something but seemed to know she’d been rescued. I called Rafa, who told me to take the front exit then switched the phone for the gun and took the lead.
We stopped at the entrance and slowed our breaths, the adrenaline pumping hard in both our bodies. Anton nodded and we busted out through their courtyard. At the sight of the gun, there weren’t any brave heroes, and the small crowd parted.
Our black SUV screeched to a halt and I opened the back door for Anton, who threw Callie in while I climbed into the passenger side. My heart thumped hard and my mind went fuzzy. Somehow, I pulled off my shirt and handed it to Callie.
Chapter Thirteen
Fiona
I would have to deal with Leo’s bullshit when I got back to Covington. His overprotective ass was going to be pissed that I’d snuck away. I didn’t doubt that he’d find out about it and part of me hoped he was pissed. It had stung the way he’d left me to Anton, like I didn’t matter.
So when I’d found my mom at home that morning and she’d screamed at me and accused me of kidnapping Violet, I’d had to get out. I’d waited for her to crash, taken my sister down to Lisa and decided to spend a little bit of the money I’d earned on myself.
Plus, I’d headed downtown where no one gave a shit about Covington or Bradford. I’d eaten an overpriced sandwich on a sliver of a park bench not covered in pigeon shit and bought myself some bath bombs. Big splurge.
But as I rode the train back north, the suffocating energy that was Covington Heights filled my lungs. I had to get out, and after my tiny moment of self-indulgence, I wondered if my love for Violet might have been holding me back. I wanted a better life for her, but would it cost me my own?
I exited the train and trudged up the stairs past a homeless man and his gray dog. My freedom adventure had long lost its glory with the realization that—just like the amazing day with Leo—it had to come to an end. At the crosswalk, I noticed that the park was empty and Jackson was on the bench. From what I could tell from the crew, he was fourth in line, so that meant Rafa, Leo and Anton were away.
Jackson’s gaze met mine and he popped up. Flanked by two minions, he rushed over and met me at the curb once I’d crossed the street.
“Damn, sis, it’s good to see you,” he said with a tilt of his head. His phone buzzed from the back pocket of his baggy black jeans. Jackson reached for it, read a message, and turned to his left. “They’re going through the alley. Go meet them.” Then to me, “You… Anton’s, now.”
Normally Jackson’s brown eyes were soft and gentle, something I suspected Lisa found irresistible. But, in that moment, they issued a warning. I hurried through the courtyard and ignored that I needed to take Violet home. I would deal with her once I found out what was going on. Maybe she was safer with Lisa.
I knocked on Leo and Anton’s door and Scooter opened it. But it wasn’t Scooter. It was a version of him that made my stomach tie into a tight knot and turn to stone. His skin was pale and clammy and his eyes were bloodshot. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was strung-out.
He held the door open for me, and I studied him silently and moved to the couch. I placed my backpack on the floor and sat. The tension in the air was heavy, and while I was curious as to why, Scooter didn’t look like he was ready to play twenty questions.
The door swung open with a bang and my heart stopped. Anton cradled a broken woman in his arms. Her curly hair was a ratted mess and her face was covered in dried crimson blood and black streaks of makeup. She wore only a T-shirt and red marks on her otherwise-pink legs screamed of future bruises.
“Jesus,” Scooter said under his breath.
Anton locked eyes with Scooter and signaled to the left, barely glancing in my direction as he continued his path back to his bedroom. Rafa came in and said he’d call the doctor, then he moved to the island.
Last in was Leo, whose dark eyes leveled me as his bare chest rose and fell. He stared at me, through me—his message painfully, shockingly clear.
That could have been you.
Leo let out that steamy grumble he did when he was particularly annoyed. He frowned and it gave ‘resting bitch face’ a run for its money. After a long blink, he stalked down the hall to his room and slammed the door.
But I got it. A selfish flood of relief washed over me and I started to shake and twitch. I bit my thumbnail and my teeth chattered.
Rafa finished his call and disappeared down the hall, maybe to give news to Scooter and Anton about the doctor. The walls o
f the living room somehow expanded and the emptiness of being alone was a bellow to my fire of fear.
Don’t cry, Fiona.
All the times I’d thought Leo had been overreacting and I’d slipped away in a tantrum anyway. Maybe it was all for the crew, but it wasn’t Anton who’d worried. It was Leo. I stood and walked slowly down his hall. The shower stream came to an abrupt halt and I waited a minute before giving his door a light tap.
Leo opened and a whoosh of air washed over me. His hair was still wet, and he wore navy training pants that bunched at the ankles and hung on his hips, exposing skin below his navel that was sure to be illegally sinful.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a soft voice.
The coldness in his eyes left in a blink. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
“I won’t.” I let out a stuttered breath. “I need to get Violet. She can’t stay with Lisa forever and my mom has already accused me of kidnapping.”
“I’ll take you, but if your mom is high, I’m not leaving your sister there.” Leo turned and went to open a drawer. He pulled out a white T-shirt and put on a pair of tennis shoes. It was the second time I’d seen him out of black jeans, and he was so much softer that it made him beautiful.
Rafa was back at the island and Leo told him we’d be back in a bit. Violet was happy to see us and I carried her and her bunny all the way up the elevator, realizing that holding her was more for me than her.
I unlocked the door to find that my mom was awake and watching a cooking show. She glared at me, still bitter about our fight. But I was pretty sure she wouldn’t air our dirty laundry in front of Leo. In fact, she went the opposite route.
A devious grin formed on her tired face, and in a sugary voice she said, “Glad you guys are back. I’m going to take Violet to the zoo.”
One thing about my mother was that she had a cycle. It was as predictable and as reliable as the sun rising in the morning. She was in the part where she was going to replace drugs with a man. She’d seen Leo taking care of me, been reminded of how nice it was and gotten jealous. The man would eventually leave, then she would go back to drugs to comfort herself.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
But finding a man required getting out of the neighborhood and making an effort. Thus, the zoo. I slid Violet down my side and she went to change the channel to something she liked.
“I’m happy you’re feeling better.” I smiled and turned to Leo. “Let’s go.”
He hesitated, but I nodded that it would be okay. I appreciated that he trusted my instincts. I reached for his hand and took it. I didn’t let go in the elevator, down his hall or even under the watchful eyes of Anton and Rafa as we walked to Leo’s room.
We moved with a quiet understanding. He stretched out on the bed and pulled me on top. I nuzzled my cheek into his chest and the crisp scent of his soap eased my stress even more. It didn’t seem real, especially when he stroked my hair. He made me feel safe, wanted.
But I had a debt to pay—and not to him. I should have been cozying up to his boss. I should have been finding ways to get to know the steel-eyed mountain of a man on the other side of the wall. And what was Leo thinking, holding my hand and bringing me into his room? He’d not just done it in front of Anton, but Rafa had seen it too. I didn’t know much about their group dynamics, but I was pretty sure it was a no-no to flaunt taking the girl to bed who was supposed to be banging the boss.
The problem was that I didn’t want to pay that debt, even after everything I’d seen. I wanted to be exactly where I was, being cherished by a man who I wasn’t meant to be with. And I needed him to know that.
I whispered, “I don’t think I’m ever going to want to have sex with Anton.” There were a lot of secrets in my confession woven into the words—like I was pretty sure I wanted to be with Leo, that I understood that the night before he hadn’t wanted to leave me with the boss. And, for whatever reason, that day was different, and he’d claimed me for his own. Whether or not he’d gotten permission didn’t seem to matter.
“Then don’t,” he said, his simple words carrying their own hidden meanings.
We lay there for a long time, his slow heartbeat a gentle lullaby that carried me away. Eventually, his stomach rumbled and I had to giggle. He laughed too, and I sat up next to him.
“Thank God. I’ve had to pee for an hour.” Leo winked and hopped up.
I scooted to the headboard and bent my knees into my chest. It had been ages since I’d had a free night, and the confines and stress of Covington were pecking at me from every angle.
When Leo came back in the room, I peered at him with caution. “Do you want to…I don’t know…maybe do something?”
“What did you have in mind?” His flirtatious tone was so foreign that I almost laughed.
“I don’t know, get tacos or a burger or…” I stood and twisted my hands. He was making it harder by being nice and open. Besides, I was asking him to do something ridiculously casual after he’d just saved a girl’s life.
I shook my head. It had been a stupid idea. “Sorry. I just don’t want to be in this building another fucking minute. It was selfish. You must be exhausted.”
Leo scratched the back of his neck before sporting a wide grin. “I’m more confused. I’m pretty sure you just asked me out on a date.”
There it was, the cocky, smug reliable side of him.
“It’s not a date. It’s two people eating a meal together after a long day. Besides, you are obviously hungry.”
“I’m starving, actually.” Leo twisted his lips before rubbing them together. “Come on. I haven’t had decent Italian food in months.”
In the living room, Anton and Rafa sat on the couch with beers in their hands and an empty pizza box between them. An older woman with short, strawberry-blonde hair and massive green eyes came down the hall from Anton’s room.
“Leo,” she said, her smile off, “any injuries?”
“Clean as a whistle, Doc. How’s she doing?” Leo asked and Anton stood and joined us in the kitchen for the answer.
“She’s in shock. She’s not in much pain and I’ve set her nose. The wounds she’s endured are far beyond my scope.” The doctor turned to Anton and brushed the lapel of her gray jacket. “You’re going to need to put a therapist on your payroll.”
Anton closed his eyes, cursed under his breath and went back to the couch.
The doctor watched him then announced, “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll be on my way.” Her judgmental gaze came to me. “What about you? Do you need a prescription for the pill? I’m not very fond of abortions.”
“I…” Was there even a response for that? Number one, I wasn’t having sex—not that she needed to know if I was. And number two—what kind of doctor just offered up prescriptions like a business card? Oh, right, the doctor of criminals. Duh. Maybe that was why she was a presumptuous slut-shamer, too. My nostrils flared while I debated laying into her pale ass.
Leo put his arm around me and tugged me close. “Don’t you worry about us, Dr. MacAllister. I’m a big fan of wrapping my presents before I give them.” He lifted his eyebrows and smirked, and his lie made me wonder why he didn’t trust the doctor.
His crudeness had worked, though. She rolled her eyes and let herself out. Once the door was shut, Anton lifted a hand.
He glared at Leo. “Don’t say it.”
I was beginning to realize a small dynamic in Leo and Anton, and I wondered how many others were as well. Leo wasn’t good at following orders. It was proof positive when he spoke.
“She was fishing.”
Rafa and I exchanged curious glances before shifting our attention back to Leo and Anton. Yeah, he’d noticed that trait in Leo, too.
“You’re paranoid,” Anton said with a scoff.
“I have instincts.”
There was a long moment of silence as their stare-down sucked all the air out of the room. But despite not using words, an entire conversation passed between them. Finally,
Leo broke and said to me, “Let’s go.”
To our backs, Anton called out, “This isn’t over.”
Leo’s familiar grumble leaked out in a long, slow exhale, and he grabbed my hand and led me down the hall. He punched the elevator button and I let him have his quiet. There was a long story behind him being in Covington, and if he wanted to share it with me, that would be up to him. All I needed was a meal and a change of scenery.
The orange setting sun warmed the car as we drove downtown. The escape, even if it was brief, was more than welcome. Leo found a parking spot on a side street and pulled in. His huff had disappeared and a twinkle I’d never seen flickered in his eyes.
“You are in for the best meal of your life.”
I smiled back, preferring this odd version of him that I wasn’t sure a lot of people had the luck of seeing. “You’re practically giddy. Oh my God, are you going to be Skip again?”
We got out of the car and he took my hand. The gesture was gentler than in Covington. I liked it.
Leo whispered in my ear, “I seem to remember you kissing Skip.”
We walked down a quiet street until we were in front of a small, casual restaurant with the name ‘Chezzie’s’ painted red in the window.
He held the door open for me and heat flushed up my neck. Holy Shit, we were on a date. I smiled through my nerves and walked in.
“Well, well, well, the prodigal son returns.” A pretty, older Italian lady in a tight but flattering burgundy wrap dress frowned at Leo before a wide grin spread across her face. She waved her hands in front of her. “Get over here, gorgeous. Give your Aunt Chezzie a kiss.”
Leo not only obliged but he lifted the woman up, hugged her tight and spun her around.
“Easy, doll.” When she was back on her own two feet she smacked his cheek a few times. “I’ve missed this face.” Then she turned to me and sized me up. Her dark, appraising eyes were the exact same shade of scary as her nephew’s. “Who’s this?”
“Fiona, this is my Aunt Francesca.”
