Page 21 of Barrett

Jordan was wealthy. He was a mafia boss with more money than he knew what to do with. I was one of the many cops he leaned on when needed. He wasn’t throwing a hundred thousand dollars at me when I did good work. One, it would look suspicious. And two, I wasn’t about to have an account somewhere else to hide the money. With my luck, it would be found. Plus, the money had to look legit. Not a check cut from Jordan himself. I couldn’t raise any flags. Everything had to be done carefully.

Just thinking about it stressed me out. I wanted to give Marshall everything, but I couldn’t because of who I worked for. By choice, yes, and all for him. If I wasn’t here, Marshall needed to be able to use the money with no one investigating how I had what I did.

By the two-hour mark, Marshall was still sound asleep and settled, which was a good sign that the medication was working. I left his room, partially closing the door so I could still hear him if he needed me.

As I walked past his art room, I stopped to go inside, toeing the door so I could turn the light on. Marshall had completed paintings propped up against one wall. There were supplies scattered about and a canvas still on the easel. I looked at it and stood in awe of his talent.

This right here was why I wouldn’t push him to get a full-time job with benefits. He shouldn’t be wasting away doing work he hated. This was where Marshall thrived.

There was an art expo next weekend in one of the hotels in East Dremest. It was a place for up-and-coming artists to showcase their work and find potential buyers. They each were allowed two pieces. Marshall was still deciding which he wanted to take with him. The best part, and one of the reasons he was excited to go, the owner of the hotel was matching the price paid for every piece of art and donating it to the city. Not only could Marshall find buyers who loved what he’d created, but it was for a good cause. I was going to be the proud big brother, standing by his side, cheering him on and calming his nerves.

He’d done exhibits before but on smaller scales, selling here or there but nothing that would draw the attention of art buyers like this.

East Dremest Luxury Hotel & Spa was one of the newer hotels in the city, and it was beautiful. The owner was part of Jordan’s inner circle, as one of the attorneys who’d be called upon when needed. Usually, I wouldn’t mix anything to do with my brother with a chance Jordan would show up, but this wasn’t high-end art. This wasn’t the fancy shit he had in that home of his he paid millions for. Jordan would have no reason to go to this event.

That thought had me relieved and a bit sad at the same time. I wanted to see Reghan again, even though I shouldn’t. It was clear as day how wrong we were when we were together. I thrived on the arguments and threats. I wanted to revel in the way he could overpower me and bend me to his will. Not on the street, in the bedroom. My thoughts ultimately ended up there when it came to him.

Sighing, I turned from the beauty my brother created, shut off the light, and retreated to my room, where I crawled back into bed. The ceiling became completely fascinating since I couldn't fall asleep. Work would come early tomorrow. My mind didn’t give a fuck.

I shouldn’t want Reghan. I shouldn’t desire him with every fiber of my being. He was right when he said I wore a mask. I did. One that hid my vulnerabilities. One that kept my brother away from the life the mafia led. None of that should touch Marshall ever.

Jordan wasn’t all bad. He’d do whatever he had to for the people he cared about. That said a lot about who he was. At the end of the day, Jordan would always choose who he loved, who was loyal to him, and who he needed.

Me, I was disposable, no matter what I said to Reghan. I could talk a big game. We both knew it was bullshit.

My mask couldn’t fall. Marshall had to stay on the side of my life that was good. He was innocent and kind. Loving and so damn talented. Nothing should dim his light.

Reghan wasn’t Jordan though, was he? Reghan merely worked for him. Guarding a powerful man was a dangerous job. Reghan was skilled. He knew his shit. Not once had he come across as having no compassion for a person who deserved it.

Did he shoot to kill when need be? Absolutely. I couldn’t blame him for it. I did the same, whether for my job or Jordan.

However, Reghan didn’t live in the light. He resided in the dark with Jordan. Reghan might be a good man. In fact, I knew deep down he was. That didn’t change his profession or who he was loyal to.

There was no point in wishing for what I couldn’t have. Reghan wasn’t meant for me. Not in this life, anyway.

My eyes finally slipped closed as sleep crept in. As much as I tried to push Reghan from my mind, knowing nothing promising would come from seeing those dark eyes in my dreams, I found I could only push him so far. I didn’t want to remove him completely, even if I should.

10

REGHAN

My brother insisted on going with me to my appointment this morning. He hadn’t seen Alton in a while and felt the need to be present. Not that I blamed him. If he were going to see Barrett, I’d… I’d what? Have to be there too?

I gave myself an internal shake and pushed the thought away. Barrett didn’t trust me. He put on his mask anytime I was near because, god forbid, he was real with me.

“I saw him, you know.”

“Who?” I asked. Luckily, we were in Jordan’s building, or we wouldn’t have been able to talk freely. Also, Alton wasn’t in the room yet. He spent the day here seeing patients once a month. He was the doctor for all of us.

“Barrett.”

Turning, I narrowed my eyes at my brother. We didn’t keep much from each other, so this had my hackles up. “Why?”

“Jordan asked me to tell him what Lawson found.”

“It was minimal.”

“It was still something.”

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