Page 10 of Fool's Gold

“Do you want to stay here?” I ask, aware of the open windows and the unsecured entrances.

She’s shaking like a leaf, her attention miles away, struggling to make sense of this new version of things.

“I don’t know what I want,” she mutters in an undertone I barely hear. “I don’t know anything anymore, Marcus. This is—” She lifts her hand and flutters it in the air in front of her face. “It’s too much for me. And all at the same time.”

“I understand.”

Fuck, do I understand. Bad things always happen to good people. And when they do, they come in waves, one after another. Hammering the person to the sand and forcing them to stay down and take the beating.

Empire isn’t used to the troubles of life. Only the glamour and the glitz. Only the good things until her parents’ plane crashed.

“Come on.” I make the decision in an instant and stand, ignoring the aches in my own body. She stares blankly at the hand I thrust in front of her face. “We’re getting out.”

“I’m not leaving my car, Marcus.”

Her voice is wooden and hollow. If she retreats too far into herself, I won’t be getting her back anytime soon.

“I’ll send someone for it. Don’t worry about the goddamn car.”

When she still refuses to take my hand, I retract it with a leer and move toward the windows. Shutting them one right after another and flipping the locks. The old house has no security system. Bennett always liked that about the place. He said it made him feel like an actual guy instead of a star hounded by the media.

Now it makes the bungalow a huge liability should Stanic Maxim decide he wants to come after us to check on the progress in person.

With those things, he can be a hound on my fucking ass.

Once I have everything shut up tightly, I throw Empire over my shoulder, pausing only to grab her purse, large enough to no doubt fit a change of clothes.

“Stop it.” She beats against my back.

I kick the front door shut before heading to my car to secure her in the front seat, her limbs flailing and her body pliant.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Except there is no heat behind the question. She’s struggling.

How many times have I had to move her this way? When she shuts down and refuses to move, content to let someone else position her like a doll?

She stares blankly ahead at the streetlights burning a path away from the ocean and back toward the highway. The sun sets in a ray of pure red over the water, and soon enough, it sinks too low to follow its movement.

My place is the closest. Much closer than her parents’ house in the hills, so I head there first.

The apartment will be a good middle ground until we figure this shit out. Those next steps I’d wanted desperately to talk to her about, but if she’s not in the right headspace, I’m looking at an argument. A knockout brawl where she’s throwing everything she’s got at me in an attempt to protect herself.

We’ve been there too many times to count at this point.

I know the security I have at the apartment. It’s decent, better than most, and it’s kept me safe once I exited the mob scene. Except the scene is never far away. Once you’re in the life, either born into it or sucked down due to unforeseen circumstances, you’re in it. Until you’re taken out of it.

I should have known better.

Should have known there would be no way out for me.

Empire is silent, her pert lips drawn into a thin, hard line through our trip back to the city. She perks up only once we stop in front of my building, and she grips the seat belt.

“I don’t want to go inside, Marcus.”

“What? Why?” I ask, turning to her.

Her legs are bobbing again, and the rest of her is trembling violently. Her teeth clack together. “I mean I don’t want to go in.” She barely manages to get the words out. “Isn’t there somewhere else we can go? Please. Anywhere.”

I groan, swiping my palm over my jaw. I’d been looking forward to the steam shower and my own bed. Now I’ve got to redirect.

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