Page 44 of Barrett

“It’s just a job. You could become a private investigator and work for yourself. Or you could follow Reghan and see if the mafia boss of East Dremest wants to find work for you.” He didn’t know how on the nose his words were.

“Sure. That would do so well for us. I’d like to stay out of prison.”

He dramatically rolled his eyes. “We all know Jordan gets away with everything in this city. Now, you have to go to work and so do I. There’s a lot of art to create. Plus, I need to decide what painting to sell Jordan.”

“He didn’t pick one?”

“Nope. He said it was my choice.”

Jordan’s kindness surprised me. Almost every time I saw him, there was an undercurrent of violence or full-out blood and murder. I’d seen how gentle he was with his partners. I’d watched as he spoke to others who weren’t threats to him. He was multilayered, even if he didn’t want anyone to see it.

Marshall stepped away and started toward his room. “Maybe I’ll paint him something new, a cityscape, or I could paint Hartley’s building. It would be more personal and show how I could bring art to life.”

“He’s going to love whatever you give him.”

He chuckled. “That’s my brother talking but forgetting about who the buyer is. I’ll figure it out.”

“I have no doubt. Just remember, minimal contact.”

“I know, Barrett.” Marshall went into his room and closed the door.

I did the same and leaned heavily against it. My room still smelled like Reghan. The bed was unmade, the sheet askew, and the comforter on the floor. We would have been better off in a bigger bed.

The memories of last night were etched into my brain. Each breath, every moan, the way his body felt against mine. We were perfect together, and it scared me beyond belief. I wasn’t under the illusion this would be smooth. Someone was bound to find out. I’d slip eventually. Not Reghan. He was too smart for that. Me, I was going to say or do something to bring attention to our relationship. It would be downhill from there.

I’d lose my job.

Reghan would try to help me, but I wouldn’t let him.

I’d have to find a way to provide for my brother and would dip into savings.

My cushion would slowly disappear.

Everything would come crashing down because that was how my life went.

I just had to hope when it did, Marshall would be clear of the debris.

20

REGHAN

“Reghan!” Jordan barked, grabbing my attention as he stormed out of his office. “Get Albert to meet us downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

I quickly pulled out my phone and sent Albert a short text. Something happened that I didn’t hear because Jordan had his door closed. My gun was already on me, and I had two knives strapped to my ankle.

Blood started pumping fast. It didn’t matter if I was the one doing the hitting or Jordan was; adrenaline rushed through me when he was ready to move. It had to. I’d been trained to react when Jordan needed me.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I pushed the button for the elevator. It arrived in less than a minute. We stepped inside, leaving Irene, Jordan’s housekeeper and cook, to bustle around the kitchen as she prepared dinner for Jordan and his men. She wasn’t fazed in the least when he started barking orders or talked about killing someone. Originally, I’d thought she was good at tuning him out. The opposite was true. She heard everything and took it with ease.

One time, Jordan was yelling about ripping someone’s limbs off and she walked past, handing him disposable gloves like it was just another day. It was, but Jordan was so stunned he stared after her for a few moments before moving again.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor, Sheldon breezing in when the doors opened.

“I didn’t ask for you,” Jordan seethed. Whatever happened really got under his skin. This wasn’t going to be a scare the fuck out of someone. No, this had the makings of murder.

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