“I killed Landon,” I rasp.
“You what!” Jayden snaps her body up straight, covering her mouth with her hand in shock.
“I think. I don’t know. But the Blackwells will be after me. I know it.”
“How do you think you killed someone? You either did or you didn’t.” Her eyebrows furrow with confusion.
“I did. Now, I have to hide. I don’t have time for this shit!” I yell, standing up and rushing to my closet.
I grab a sports bra and my stretched-out Harley Davidson shirt, putting them on quickly before grabbing some ripped shorts.
I risk a glimpse over at Jayden, finding her by my bed, her face still the image of shock.
I snap my fingers, grabbing her attention. She nods and licks her bottom lip.
“Mick, he’ll save us,” Jayden reassures, like everything is magically fixed.
I purse my lips and lift a brow.
“You’re still holding on to that ‘you’re safe with me’ bullshit? Because he didn’t do a damn thing when Landon took me,” I remind her.
She huffs out a tired breath and places her hand on her hip. “I don’t see a lot of other options right now, do you?”
I shake my head and grab some flip-flops. “No, I don’t, unfortunately.”
Jayden grabs some clothes off the floor and starts putting them on, making me realize she’s been naked this whole time. I was just too determined to get some clothes and run to notice it.
We hurry out of the apartment and avoid the main alleys and streets to get to Mick’s. The whole time, Jayden is staring at me, a million questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. And I’m looking over my shoulder, paranoid a Blackwell is tailing us. Along with my paranoia, I feel guilt. Sorrow. I killed Landon, the man I care about. But that man, the man I thought I finally had figured out, is actually the man in my dreams who haunts me. He killed my mother. To hate and to love are two polar opposites, yet I feel them both right now.
“Here we are,” I whisper, striding into Mick’s office.
“Fancy! Rarity!” Mick greets, sitting behind his desk, wearing a dark purple shirt with a gold chain. He looks like a stereotypical pimp today.
“Fancy needs help,” Jayden spits outs, making me rub the nape of my neck nervously. She couldn’t ease into the conversation?
Mick sits back in his chair and steeples his hands, his forehead wrinkling as he looks at me.
“Is that right? And why does Fancy need help?” Mick questions, his tone taking a hint of concern.
“I just—”
“She killed that rich fucker,” Jayden interrupts. I slowly turn my head and glare at her.
“Fuck. No!” Mick shouts, pointing at his door dismissing me.
“But—”
“No. I am not getting involved with the Blackwells. Especially if some whore is dumb enough to kill one. You!” He points at me. “Get out and run. Run far away,” Mick instructs.
“You owe me,” I grit. I lower my head and glower at him, but he just chuckles and shakes his head.
“And why do you think that, sweetheart?” Mick laughs.
“You said I was safe. You said this was my family, but you didn’t lift a finger to save me.” I point at my chest and lean over his desk. “I saved me. I did what I had to do. Therefore, you owe me,” I snarl.
Mick takes in a large breath, his face turning sympathetic. Like something you would see on a puppy begging for food.
“I’m sorry, Fancy, but I can’t.” He shakes his head. “Landon is making a statement by taking over the Blackwells, and I’m not about to jump on that ride. The best I can do is give you your cut from working here.” He rubs his hands over his head and continues to shake it back and forth.
“I might know someone who can lower the rent on a place, get you in there till you can figure something out—”
“Deal,” I interrupt.
He opens his drawer, pulling out a bag of some sort, and throws a bunch of hundreds on the table.
I grab the money and shove it in my pocket as he picks his phone up to make the call about the apartment.
I glance at Jayden, who is still looking at me strangely.
“What?” I finally ask.
“How did you do it?” Jayden whispers as Mick talks on the phone.
“Do what?” I reply vague.
“How did you kill him?”
I swallow, my heart sinking in the pit of my stomach as I think about it. The gun pulling back as it fired. The loud bang. The blood. Landon’s face.
“I shot him,” I mumble, closing my eyes. How did I miss the tattoo on Landon’s back? I close my eyes, and images of Landon and me together play behind my eyes. Us at the hotel, but the little bit of red lighting cascading into our room wasn’t enough to see with. When I was on his desk in his office, he still had his shirt on, and when we were in his room last night, it was too dark to see anything. The evidence was right in front of me, and I missed it every time.