Page 19 of Desperate Actions

I should look away.

I should.

But I don’t.

And I’m not the only one who notices.

“Yo, can you stop staring at my cousin? Bro, it’s fucking disturbing.”

Junior slides up next to me, serious, but not pissed.

And I get it.

Because I’ve seen his eyes stray to my little cousin, Leanna, enough times to recognize the hypocrisy in his words.

She’s not due to arrive until tomorrow, stuck at school for finals.

She’s younger than Aella. And if anyone else looked at her the way I look at Aella, I’d want to fucking hurt them.

So how can I be mad at him when I feel the way I do about his little cousin?

I lift my drink, taking a slow sip before muttering, “Mind your business.”

“I wish I could,” he shoots back, dry and unimpressed, “but you’re eye-fucking her from across the room, and I’m gonna puke.”

I don’t answer.

Because I can’t.

I’m too fucking amped, too tightly wound to play nice.

As if sensing the shift in my mood, Junior wisely shuts his mouth and sips his drink instead.

The girls are at the bar now, Clementine, Michaela, and Shelly sitting with their husbands standing close behind them.

The rest are standing, chatting, dancing, sipping their drinks. They form this circle that subconsciously lets others know what they are—untouchable, untouchable, untouchable.

Because we trained them well.

Because they know.

We’ve schooled them in how to protect themselves, how to navigate crowded places filled with sharks.

So logically?

I know I’m on edge for no damn reason.

But logic doesn’t change facts.

And the fact is—the world is a dangerous place.

No matter how many precautions you take.

No matter how much money you have.

No matter how many men you put in place to watch over the people you love.

You’re never safe.

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