Page 42 of Wrapped in Silver

“Only top dogs involved know that,” Silver says.

“Keeping secrets still… good. That means I have a chance of making it out of this alive.”

Both he and Silver chuckle. In a different world, they would get along, I think. Picturing them eating dinner beside one another, with me next to Silver, throwing harmless jabs… it sends a tingle into my belly.

I’m being an idiot. Something like that can never be. Especially now.

Emotions are villainous today. They come barreling through me like a wraith, causing me to cup my hand over my mouth and sob silently again.

Silver notices my dismay and speeds up the conversation, pretending he came to ask about any other details he may have heard while the men were beating him back in some warehouse.

Once he’s satisfied, Silver tells Dad to hang tight, and carefully cuffs his hands behind his back and checks the ropes tying him to the chair.

On his way toward me, I hold out my hand, in desperate need of comfort, and he gently takes it. We head up slowly as I blow a silent kiss in Dad’s direction.

I’ll see you soon, Dad. Promise.

Once the heavy door closes out all sound below, I let it all out.

I haven’t cried in years. Not like this, anyway. Mom and Jana, my older sister, always said I was a pretty crier. I don’t know why that makes me laugh through the tears, but it does for a second. I’m pissed at my mom for leaving Dad over his work obsessions. Always have been. But Jesus, I could use her embrace now… cold as it was.

To my shock, two massive arms drape over me. I notice the suit jacket hanging on the chair in the dining room.

“What’s this, Silver?” I place both my wet hands flat on his chest, dirtying his white shirt.

“You’re crazy if you think I’d let you ruin a Tom Ford suit.”

I laugh, and a dribble of snot comes out. “Hope the shirt is okay to toss, though.” I rest my head on his muscular chest, his unflexed pec like a pillow. God, he’s warm, and perfect, andhe saved my father.

Squeezing him tight tells the whole story. I’m in his debt.

“You’ll let him go, won’t you?” I peer up at him, showing a softer side no one’s ever seen.

“I’m in trouble, Quinn,” his voice rattles. “Deep,deeptrouble.”

My heart twists. “What do you mean?”

He looks down on me, his hard eyes softening ever so slightly. It’s the same look he gave me after our kiss in the shed.

“Have you ever known you’re on the wrong path, but feel helpless to stop yourself?”

My face scrunches. All of that soft warmth cools. “Are you sayingI’mthe wrong path?”

“No, kid. I’m saying I finally found the right one.” He leans in and gives me a soft kiss, which I accept as another fire log of warmth. “It’s just going to be bloody.”

“Can you stop talking in riddles?” I scrunch his shirt. “I get it. You’re old and wise. But I’m tough as nails.”

“Oh really?” He cackles.

I wipe the snot from my nose. “Yeah. Just caught me on a bad week.”

“Uh huh.” He breaks the embrace and moves to the kitchen sink. Dabbing a paper towel and trying to blot the eyeshadow off his shirt makes him scoff. “You going to stop flailing now that you’ve seen him?”

I nod, and I’m about to ask him the obvious next question, but he holds up a finger to shush me. “I’m not a fucking dog—”

He smiles at my spiciness. “I’m going to release him, kid. You have my word.”

My smile is uncontrollable. It’s big and goofy—something I keep hidden from the masses. But he broke it out of me. This ghostly king of a man.

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