Page 41 of Second Goal

“Tell me.”

She hesitates. “She left my place earlier, and she seemed really upset.”

“Did she say why?”

“I shouldn’t be talking about her like this, behind her back, but I’m worried.”

“What did she say, Brynne?”

“She mentioned some guy named Cruz. Do you know who that is?”

“Maybe.” I grind my back teeth, having a pretty good idea. “Did she say anything else?”

“Just... she was talking about mistakes. I think she might be in trouble. I would have called Kane, but I thought—”

“I’m glad you called me first. Just keep it between us for now. Okay?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Brynne. I’ll deal with it. I promise.”

“Okay.”

I hang up, and the moment I do, I don’t hesitate to pull up the app and search for Kiley’s phone. My chest constricts when it finally pinpoints her location. I don’t know the spot, but I know the area of town. I’ve volunteered at a soup kitchen near where she is.

That voice telling me to trust her is silenced now, replaced by the pounding of my heart in my ears. I know she’s going to be pissed when she finds out I tracked her phone. But I’m prepared for her anger.

I’m prepared to face anything as long as she’s safe.

Chapter Twelve

Kiley

It’stwo in the afternoon, but the buildings create shadows in the garbage-filled alley behind Hogger’s Bar. The stink is almost unbearable, and so are the sounds of the man and woman screaming at each other from one of the open windows above.

An older man, wearing nothing but rags, sleeps on a cardboard box in the far corner and I wince when a large rodent scurries around him before burrowing under one of the mounds of garbage.

I shiver, but not from the cold wind that whips around me. From the memories, and the truth that this would still be my home, my reality if my brother hadn’t literally pulled me out of the gutter.

Two years. I’ve lived a different life. A life I didn’t think existed for someone like me.

It doesn’t, my head reminds me. I let out a shaky breath and wait for Cruz. He’s ten minutes late, but I’m not surprised. Ezra was the businessman, not his brother. As cruel and wretched as Cruz is, Ezra was that much worse. It’s like they were both born with some essential part of them missing.

Their soul, maybe.

I never understood Ezra’s cruelty, but I know why Cruz hates me. Why he thinks I owe him. But killing his brother isn’t the sin I regret. It may be the one I’ll be locked up for, but I don’t regret it. It’s what I did after that, that will haunt me for the rest of my life. That’s why I'm here. To finally right my wrongs.

To save her.

A door swings open and for a second I can hear the music and shouting from inside the bar before Cruz walks out and it slams shut behind him.

Instinctively, I take a step back as he gets closer. Tall, like his brother, he’s thinner, his face gaunt. His pupils constricted from whatever drug he’s currently stoned on. Judging by the track marks on his arms, I’m thinking heroin.

“Where’s the money?” he demands, his breath foul when he gets in my face.

I fight the urge to take another step back, and square my shoulders, not wavering when I give my own demand, “I want to see Amy first.”

That’s what this is about. What it’s always been about. Freeing her from my mistakes. To make up for not saving her or Lucy when I could have.

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