Page 20 of Bought
But I’m not ready to move.
I pull my phone from my pocket without thinking. It’s smeared with blood, and the screen is spider-webbed with cracks from where it hit the floor.
There’s the message.
Not from the Morettis, not from the family, but from Erin. The one she sent hours ago.
The one I never replied to.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I wipe my hands on my shirt and shove my phone back into my pocket.
Never fail. Never fall.
Especially in love.
I stand, stretching out my aching joints. I follow Blaze to the door.
He unlocks the door, pulling it open enough to confirm there’s nothing left of the Caddy but black rubber streaks on the pavement.
“Still glad you moved back?” I joke.
“Hell yes.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “You can take the boy outta the city, but he’ll always be back. Besides,” he says, closing the door. “I live for this stuff.”
“I did, too,” I say, remembering the adrenaline, the power I felt protecting my family. My voice drops. “Before that mission.”
Each of the brothers is aware of the others' past. It’s part of our initiation. Coming clean by laying out our past dirt for our brothers' inspection.
“You were young. You got fucked. You have to let it go.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.
I run my hand over the back of my neck, muttering, “I should have been better at reading my men.”
“Now you don’t have to. You can trust each of us with your life.”
“Still, it’s hard to move on, to forget.”
“I hear you. But you have to. It’s time.” He squeezes my shoulder. “And I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Blaze.”
“Brother.” He grips my arm, pulling me into some form of embrace, the closest the two of us will come to hugging. “Glad we were together tonight.”
“Same.”
After making plans to meet tomorrow, we drive off in our separate cars; he, most likely, scoping out our next office space.
As the adrenaline fades, a thought pushes in, unbidden and unwelcome.
If that bullet had been an inch to the left, she’d never have known how much I didn’t want to send her home.
I pull out my phone. Her message waits, glowing on the cracked screen.
My thumb hovers, hesitation a heavy weight in my chest. Then I type.
Lucian: Tomorrow. Same place. Nine. I’ll send a car.
I hit ‘send’ before I can change my mind.
