Page 97 of Risking it All

“It’s time to pick sides, Lyra,” I said as calmly as I could. “Mine or not mine.”

“I’m always on your side,” Lyra answered so quietly I barely heard her.

“Then where is he?”

“The apartment. He’s been waiting for you there.”

Of course he was. Where else would he be? The tires of the car squealed as I took the turn for our apartments, then they squealed again as I pulled into the parking lot. I didn’t bother picking a spot. Barely even bothered putting the car into Park. I jumped out of the car, Lyra yelling at me to stop, and then I ran up the metal steps two at a time. Not giving a fuck about anything, I kicked the door open. The bastard rose to his feet, and I raced across the room, grabbed him, and then threw him against the wall. The drywall behind him buckled, creating an indentation. “You shot Macie.”

His eyes went wide, all the blood drained from his face, and he shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

Marsh. My best friend. My family. My brother. The person I loved as much as my sisters. One of the few people I allowed myself to trust and love. He’d betrayed me. Betrayed Macie. Betrayed himself. Hurt mingled with the rage, bringing a burning wetness to my eyes. I shoved him into the wall again. “You shot her, and you’ve been lying to me about it all this time.”

“I didn’t,” he started, but then I let him go long enough to rip the brace off his arm.

I shoved his arm into his face. “This is your tattoo, right? It started with the tribal tattoo. Then when your mom was diagnosed with cancer, you got the pink ribbon, the roses, and the vines. And then when your mom entered stage four, you imprinted the skeleton key and her favorite saying onto yourskin. How many other people have this same exact tattoo? No one.”

Terrified of my own furor, of how it would be so easy to pull back and throw a punch and keep on punching until both he and I were bloody and raw and as broken physically as I was mentally, I pushed him into the wall again and then forced myself to take a step back. My hands were shaking, I was shaking, and I clenched my fists to keep from going after him again.

“I didn’t shoot her,” Marsh pushed.

“Macie described your tattoo,” I shouted so loudly I scratched the hell out of my throat.

Marsh put his hands out in a stop gesture then waved them in a calm-down motion. “I was there, okay? But I didn’t shoot her.”

I stepped forward to punch him, but he said, “I wasn’t even there when the shooting happened! The crew screwed up. They called me and told me it was Macie, and I went there to save her, okay? I wasn’t supposed to. I was called to dispose of the Escalade, but when they told me she’d been left there on the road to die, I had to save her. So, I went. I found her. I’m the one who found her phone and called for help. I held my hands over her wounds to stop the bleeding.”

Tears filled his eyes and he frantically wiped at them as he continued talking in a frantic pace. “She was dying, and I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t. There was so much damn blood and I hear it, every damn night when I sleep, the sound of her choking, gasping for air.”

My throat closed with grief. Rage twisted me up, and I was so damn confused that I felt as if I’d been clocked in the head. “Who did it?”

“Don’t go down this road, Relic,” Marsh pleaded.

“Who did it?” I roared.

Marsh wavered on his feet as if beat down. “Brayden Gentry.”

The world went eerily still. Quiet. My eye narrowed on him. “What did you say?”

“It was an initiation. Was supposed to be a simple round of tasks. Brayden and Jack Hewitt were both supposed to steal two cars. One by their choice, another a carjacking. They were told no one was supposed to get hurt because hurt meant more heat, and the last thing you want to bring into the gang is heat. Brayden chose Macie for the carjacking. He thought it would be easy. That she’d cower and hand everything over to him. He had no idea she’d put up a fight. It freaked him out. He didn’t mean to shoot her. He was scared. Jumpy. Had no idea that triggers on guns could be so easy to pull.”

“This makes no sense. Brayden’s a damn rich boy. He doesn’t need a gang.”

Marsh scowled. “Brayden’s a moron watching too many movies. He likes fast money and a fast lifestyle, and he loves the drugs. He didn’t have a damn clue what he was getting himself into, but he does now. Of course, now it’s too late.”

We stared at each other, and I tried to see him…my best friend, my brother. And while his body looked the same, the same hair color, same face…I didn’t recognize Marsh at all.

“What are you going to do?” Marsh asked. “If you snitch on me and Brayden, you know you’re signing your own death note.”

I stepped into him, and he took an automatic step back. “You think I’m the only one who can identify your tattoo?”

“Only one who can actually identify is Macie,” Marsh said. “And I’d highly suggest you tell her to keep her mouth shut.”

“Or what?” I said in a low, mean voice.

He was silent for a moment before saying, “Why do you think Brayden’s been dating Gianna? The boy may be stupid, but he’s intent on cleaning up his own mess if he has to.”

I rocked on my feet, my heart stalled, and the entire world zoned out. Macie. She was in danger. “What’s he going to do?”

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