Page 11 of Assassin's Game
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not. That’s final, dickhead.”
Eli was on his feet and in my face before my next pounding heartbeat. “You may be the big brother here, Levi, you may control things when we’re in the field, but you don’t dictate my life. I”—he jabbed a thumb against his breastbone—“decide my life. And he”—this time the thumb pointed toward the creature whining behind him—“is part of my life. So deal with it.”
“No!” I yelled. “No no no no!” Every word got louder as the panic inside me ratcheted up until the last nearly shredded my vocal cords. “I can’t, Eli! I just can’t.”
“It’s not about you, fucker. It’s about me.”
I lunged forward, fistfuls of Eli’s wet T-shirt caught in my hands before I even realized what I was doing. “Look, I—”
The low growl I’d barely noticed under the chaos in my head morphed into a sharp bark. Out of the shadows a black-and-gray muzzle snapped toward me. I jumped back, letting go of Eli’s shirt more out of instinct than necessity.
“Hey.” Eli dropped back to his knee, fearlessly wrapping an arm around the dog’s neck to hold the snarling fucker back from me. “Hey, D, it’s all right, buddy. It’s okay. He wasn’t really gonna hurt me, I promise.”
“Don’t bet on that.”
Eli ignored me. I rubbed a hand down my face, grimacing at the mingled scent of pink soap and dirty dog I’d picked up from Eli’s shirt.
I’d reached the silent count of twenty before Eli looked up at me again, eyes shining in the dark. “I’ll pack in the morning.”
And I thought the dog had been a throat punch. “What? No! That’s not what I—”
“I know it’s not,” he said quietly. Resolve sharpened his face until I no longer saw the boy he’d been so long ago, the boy I’d tried so hard to take care of on the streets. The boy that was constantly superimposed over the face of the man he now was. Not the Eli who was always first to crack a joke or horse around with little Brooke. This was the look I’d only seen a handful of times, the deadly serious look he wore right before he killed someone.
He was a man, and he was telling me where he’d drawn the line. “I know what you’re saying, Levi.”
I stared down at him, wishing I was different, wishing I was anyone but the man life had made me. “I can’t take it, E. Not one more thing I can’t—”
“Control?” A ghost of his easygoing smile, the one I envied too much, crossed his lips. “When are you gonna learn that control is a myth?” One hand stroked hard, over and over, down the dog’s head to his tense back. “You make the best plans you can, and then the universe laughs as it smashes through them like a child throwing a fucking tantrum. I’m not going to give up the good times just to prevent bad ones that might not ever come.” He glanced down at the dog, eyes soft. “So...I’ll pack in the morning.”
Over a dog. Was I willing to lose him, to create a permanent rift between us, over a dog?
I eyed the mutt leaning against him. Eyes dark with both determination and resignation stared back at me. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, just like my brothers and I hadn’t been wanted by our uncle. We’d ended up running, living on the streets, battling to survive. The knowledge that that same battle was creeping closer with every breath I took filled those unblinking eyes.
Fucking A.
I couldn’t make myself say the words, but Eli and I both knew that, when I turned away from him and Diesel, I’d given in. And another brick was added to the load I already carried. I didn’t tell Eli that, simply walked away. I’d almost reached the stairs when his voice stopped me.
“Abby—”
I tripped over the first step. “What about Abby?”
“She’s scared out of her mind.”
Scared? Pissed, I would’ve guessed, but not... “Why would she be scared?”
“Because you’re the same dipshit you’ve always been. You need to spend less time worrying about what I’m doing with my life and wandering off to wherever the hell you wander off to, and more time making certain your woman knows she’s got nothing to worry about.”
If only it were that simple. Unfortunately I couldn’t flip the switch inside me as easily as I could a light switch, and make thirty years of fucked-up programming disappear. I couldn’t explain it either. Which was why Abby was in the dark—and scared.
I didn’t respond, simply walked up the stairs, knowing what was waiting for me up there. Accepting it. Hating it.
Because Abby’s pain was heavier than all the other bricks combined.
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