Page 17 of Bad Business

“It’s complicated,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

There’s a moment of silence, the weight of his demand hanging heavy between us. I take a deep breath, knowing that once I start, there’s no going back.

“It started after Lark died,” I begin, my voice barely above a murmur. “She was… she got involved with the wrong people. After she was killed, things happened that scared me. A friend in the police department helped me run away. They deemed her death a home invasion, but that’s what they told the media—not what happened.”

“And Juniper?” Dallas’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles jumping. “Is she really your niece?”

“Yes.” I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. “When Lark was murdered, I couldn’t leave her alone, not after everything. I’m all she has left. I have to protect her.”

His expression softens slightly, the anger giving way to something more tender. “You should have told me, Willow. I can help.”

“I couldn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to drag you into this mess. It’s dangerous. These people… they don’t care who they hurt.”

“I care,” he says, his voice fierce with emotion I don’t understand. “And I’m not letting anything happen to you… or Juniper. We’ll figure this out together.”

His words are a balm to my frayed nerves, but the fear still lingers.

“You don’t understand. They’re powerful. They have connections. If they find out you’re involved?—”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Dallas interrupts, his eyes blazing. “I’ve dealt with worse. We’ll protect Juniper, and we’ll deal with these bastards once and for all.” He reaches beneath me and tugs me out of the car into his arms. “I’m taking you home.”

I stiffen in his hold. “I can’t, I have Juniper.”

“Relax. We’re going to your place, Willow. But I’m taking you.”

“My bag, Dallas… I need my things.”

He leans down, letting me grab my belongings from my car. He slams the door closed with his hip and strides across the parking lot. When we near his car, Dallas sets me on my feet to fish out his keys and phone. I watch as he unlocks the doors and tugs open the passenger door. As I climb inside, he presses the phone to his ear.

“I need you. Can you come to Nashville?” He pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs. “Look… we’re brothers, whether or not we want to be, and I need your help. Fine.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Yes. Thank you, Drake. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Who was that?” I stare at him as he buckles me into my seat.

“My half-brother.”

Dallas doesn’t elaborate as he buckles my seat belt and presses his lips to my forehead. The gesture is tender, almost possessive, and it sends a warm shiver down my spine. I watch as he rounds the car and climbs in. The car roars to life, and we pull away from the club, the lights of the city fading into the distance.

The silence between us is heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. I steal glances at him. His jaw is set, his eyes focused on the road ahead, and his hands grip the steering wheel with a controlled intensity, knuckles white against the black leather.

I want to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words stick in my throat. The reality of my situation presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.

As we drive, my thoughts drift to Juniper—her innocent face, her sweet laugh. She’s the reason I’ve fought so hard, the reason I’ve kept my secrets and given up so much. The thought of anything happening to her is unbearable. I glance at Dallas, and his expression is unreadable.

Can I really trust him to keep her safe?

The car comes to a smooth stop in front of my house. Dallas kills the engine and turns to me, his eyes softening. Without a word, he gets out and walks around to my side, opening the door. He reaches in, unbuckling my seat belt, and pulls me into his arms once more.

“Come on,” he murmurs, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm, grounding me.

He carries me up the steps and into the house, the door swinging shut behind us with a soft click. The house is quiet, the only sounds are the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of a clock. The familiar smells and sights should be comforting, but tonight, they feel tinged with an edge of danger.

Dallas’s footsteps are soft on the carpet as he carries me to the living room. Kara, the nanny and my neighbor, looks up from where she’s sitting, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Is everything alright?” she asks with concern etching her features as she takes in the intimate hold Dallas has on me.

“Everything’s fine,” Dallas replies, his voice steady and reassuring. “You can go home now. I’ll take it from here.”

She hesitates, glancing between us. “Are you sure?”

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