Page 98 of Brick

He shoved the phone in his pocket. If Sucre already had Liv, killing the kid would do no good. Cold sweat trickled down his back. Panic gripped his heart like a vice, but he fought to ignore it. He had to use his head if he wanted to save her. “What tipped him off?”

“He didn’t tell me. He said he was sure the lady would be of interest to at least one person in the crew, and he needed to know if she’d be of interest to you as well. I don’t think he realizes I know her.”

“Shit. Tre had a tail.”

Devon stood up straighter. “What does my brother have to do with this?”

“Olivia came to your apartment trying to find you.” He had no idea if Devon realized what a sociopath his brother was, but now wasn’t the time to mince words. “He’s been stalking her ever since.”

“This is really bad,” Devon whispered.

“You don’t know the half of it. She only wanted to help you. She didn’t understand what your brother is.” He clenched his fists as shards of anger broke through his icy fear. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” From the expression on his face, Devon understood the situation completely.

“Tre trashed her car at the school yesterday.” He gestured to the Corolla, which still showed evidence of the attack. “She called me for help. I made sure your brother was gone, but I should have realized he’d have a tail. Sucre’s probably just waiting for him to implode over you getting recruited.”

“Tell me what to do. How can I help?”

He considered the boy, thought back to Olivia’s steadfast belief he was destined for something better than all this. “Stay here. Don’t let them know you’ve seen me. Don’t let them know what I’ve told you. Wait until they call you, and act like everything is normal. But don’t lie about your connection to Olivia. In fact, you need to disclose it as soon as you can. Otherwise, it seems like you’re hiding it. You got me?”

“Yeah. What are you gonna do?”

A very good question. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make sure she gets out of there alive.”

***

Liv

When a strange man grabbed her from her front porch, it didn’t even occur to Liv to try and fight back. All her sister’s pep talks, all of her training…and still, her brain couldn’t process what was happening fast enough for her to react.

So instead of slipping away or twisting the guy’s fingers, she was a sack of potatoes when someone shoved her into the trunk of a car. Thirty minutes later, someone pulled her back out and dragged her into a shady bar. Though it was obvious she was there against her will, no one so much as batted an eye.

The man clasping her arm let her go in front of an ornate throne in the back of the room. The thing looked ostentatious and ridiculous, much like the man who sat on top of it. The man in the sick video she could never unsee.

He wore a white suit like the one John Travolta had in Saturday Night Fever. Flashy rings adorned his fingers and a familiar thick, braided gold chain circled his neck. The crisscrossed braid made her think of the ring she’d given to Jonathan. The one like her mother’s.

She wanted to kill Sucre de la Cruz, but she was outmanned and outgunned. It’s why she didn’t roll her eyes, why she didn’t laugh, and why she didn’t scream. She forced herself to breathe as his gaze slid over her like he was assessing a horse to stud.

“Do you know why you’re here?” His voice carried a hint of a Spanish accent, and it was as smooth as aged bourbon.

She clenched her hands to her chest as she shook her head.

Sucre smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was a serpent’s smile, frightening and cold. “My name is Sucre de la Cruz, and this,” he spread his arms wide, “is my domain.”

She trembled, not even trying to hide it. Let him think his name alone made her quiver. His reputation had permeated Atlanta like a poisonous fog.

This time his smile showed teeth. “I see you know of me. I wonder how. Perhaps my face looks familiar. Or is it my body? I’m told I look even better without my clothes.”

“Everyone knows who you are.” Refusing to accept the bait, she kept her voice meek, subservient. No reason to poke the bear.

He picked up a lock of her hair, then let the strands fall from his fingers. “Even a sweet little school teacher such as yourself?”

She swallowed against her dry throat. Nodded. The less she spoke, the less she’d get herself in trouble.

“Tell me, Miss…”

“Turner,” she whispered.

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