Page 40 of Forty

“Did you know there’s a video of her fighting some chick in her underwear on PornX? Poor bastard behind the camera begging her to stop. And she got some guy arrested for stealing a car to take her out and show her a good time. And most recently, she seems to have pissed off Dominic Renelli. He’s reached out. Asked us nicely if we’ve seen her.”

My mouth goes dry, and my adrenaline kicks in hard. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m ducking his calls. But I don’t have to answer him. She’s waltzing around town with Shirlene, not a care in the world. It’s a matter of time before someone gives Renelli the heads up.”

“No one touches her.” I stand up, fists clenched. My chair rolls back and hits the wall in slow motion.

Heavy remains seated, cool and collected. Harper’s leaning forward, all ears.

“I’m more inclined to cut her a check. Let her know Renelli’s looking for her. Give her a few thousand to get gone.” Heavy’s voice is even. He doesn’t acknowledge that I’m inexplicably about to throw down.

“Why does Renelli want her?”

Heavy lifts his massive shoulders. “She worked for one of his legitimate businesses in Pyle. She probably stole from him.”

“She was never a thief.”

“She didn’t have to be. You gave her anything she asked for. And she betrayed you the first chance she got. She betrayedus.”

Like I need the reminder.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Heavy.” Harper rolls her eyes. “She’s some loser skank; she’s not Judas Iscariot. Run her off. Pay her off. Whatever. Can we get our heads back in the game?”

“She’s not club business.” I pin Heavy with my coldest stare. He’s my brother. I’ve killed for him. Risked my life for him. But this isn’t club business. “No one deals with Nevaeh Ellis but me. Understood?”

The door pushes open, Wash pokes his head in, and he sings out, “Understood! But Veep? You might wanna come out front, then. You got a special delivery.”

Wash flashes a gap-toothed grin and ducks back out of the boardroom.

For a long moment, Heavy and I take each other’s measure. We’ve been brothers our entire lives. My earliest memory is sparring with sticks out behind the garage with Heavy, Charge, and Scrap. Before Nickel, it was the four of us. Heavy, the mastermind. Charge, the guy who’d get us out of any scrape with his aw shucks smile. Scrap, the steady soldier. And me. The right hand. The general.

Nothing could tear us apart.

And then I get it. A rush of understanding. “You were tempted. When she came on to you.”

Heavy’s holds my gaze, but a look I’ve never seen before crosses his face. Chagrin. Self-disgust. “The flesh is weak, my brother.”

“But you didn’t touch her.” It’s not a question; I don’t need to ask.

“I didn’t touch her.”

“She’s mine.”

“She’s heartless. Her father was dying—her brother was hurting—and she didn’t come back until the man who raised her was dead.”

Harper lets out a loud, blowsy sigh. “Good grief, Heavy, would you drop it already? You’re painting her like a Shakespearen villain. Keep going, and I’m gonna start liking her. And besides, the woman herself is apparently out front.” She stands. “I’m not missing this. I haven’t seen Annie really beat a girl’s ass in years. Catch you later, assholes.”

Harper tucks her phone in her bra and sashays out the door, hollering, “Prospect! Take me to the trash!”

“We done?” I’m itching to follow her, and Heavy’s confession does not rest easy with me.

Heavy lumbers to his feet. “We good?”

I nod, slow. “Always, brother.”

“I’ll back your play. Every time.”

“Doesn’t need to be said.”

---