“How ‘bout this? You call your people and have them come in and remove me?”
She observes me a moment, her voice a little less sugary this round. “Do you really want them to take you in and make you go through a hearing and replacement home, all because you wouldn’t cooperate with me? I’m making this easy and offering to take you back to your original location.”
I scoff, a small smirk coming out as I shake my head at her. “You’re as full of shit as you are sure, Ms. Vega,” I quip, and she fidgets under my unrelenting stare, a crease forming on her forehead. “You do what you need to, and I’ll be here until I’m not.” I go to step back but pause and instead step outside, right in her face. She doesn’t cower away, but her pupils dilate just the slightest. “Since it’s just me and you standing here, let me tell you this now. If you had or have anything to do with that little girl not being in her daddy’s arms every night, you’ll regret it with every bone in your body.”
Her eyes widen, and I step back inside and slam the door in her face, moving to the side so she can’t see me through the long window panel. I lean back for a breath.
Something is off with that chick, I know it, and she was damned surprised that I knew about Zoey. All I know is she better hope she’s legit with noble intentions or she’ll have more than three Brayshaws raining down on her.
With a sigh, I pour some of Collins’ big money bourbon and knock it back, dropping onto the couch.
I close my eyes, taking a calming breath when I’m on the brink of flipping my shit.
I’m in deep and falling deeper, like a fool.
I need to let these people go.
All of them.
Problem is, I’m not so sure I know how. Every day away has me questioning what the hell I’m doing here, with Collins and in this place.
A smart girl would have left by now.
The door bursts open and a sweaty, angry Collins barges through.
Surprisingly, his shoulders relax when he sees me.
“How was practice?” I raise a brow, reaching back for the tumbler and pouring myself another half glass.
He grins. “Fine, dear.”
I scoff and drop back again.
His eyes run over me, and he smiles wider.
“What?” I grow suspicious.
“Your outfit is perfect, you know, for your kind of crowd,” he says, not taking his eyes off my black jeans ripped at the thighs and plain white, baby doll T-shirt. His stare moves over my hair, and the French braid pigtails I threw it in when I got out of the shower. “Hair too.”
“For what?”
“Didn’t you hear?” His smirk has me sitting forward. “Tonight’s Maddoc’s eighteenth birthday party, and you’re my pretty little date, sweetness.” He heads for the stairs, leaving me fighting for air my lungs suddenly deny.
I didn’t even know him long enough to know when his birthday was.
“We leave in thirty! I guess you can wear those ugly ass boots, too!”
Holding in whatever it is trying to claw its way out, I lay back and close my eyes.
This should be interesting.
And by interesting, I mean a fucking nightmare.
I take another shot.
Treacherous bitch.
That’s me.
She came with him, just like we fucking figured.
Glued to him and a little unstable on her feet, they slip inside quietly – like Buck, the guard dog here at The Tower, the club we rented out for the party tonight, didn’t text me the second her used Timberlands hit the cement.
My blood heats, my muscles flexing just from looking at her.
She’s pure fucking natural fire.
No effort from her reads as pure purpose to everyone around her. Tight ass pants and a slice of skin showing above her waist, hair long and twisted back in two, ready to wrap around my fists, the blue tips shining against the light of the room. Effortless sex appeal.
Now if I went off the look in her eye, I’d say she looks like shit. Just as exhausted as I had hoped, and miserable like I wished. She looks as fucked up as she deserves to be for the moves she’s made.
Still, looking at her, all I see is mine.
Yet, she’s not here with me tonight.
She’s with him, the dick that wants to take my family’s power. The guy who wants to push Brayshaw out and regain control of this town with his family’s name, so he can run it dirty and in a way that makes him rich and powerful, not respected and feared like worthy leaders, like Brayshaw.
Like we fucking are.
He doesn’t want to help the weak grow stronger so long as they stay in line, doesn’t want to watch the local business in this town thrive and create a better, tighter community of local life. No, he wants to reign over all and shit on the little guy along the way. That’s not a society people want to be a part of – that’s how an era ends.
We’re not the only power families around, there are several of us spread across the state, protecting the lives we live and the towns we created. It’s how we live under our own laws, we have others who look out for us just the same.
But our town, we’re the last split in two, the only one left with a power struggle among founders. According to our dad, it’s up to me and my brothers to put an end to it before the other families step in and help decide for us. Only one name can lead, and it will be Brayshaw.
The Gravens were pushed out for a reason.
They’re dirty and know no loyalty. They fuck their own in a heartbeat if there’s a means to benefit from it. Our town, our family and populace was built on three things: honesty, loyalty, and respect.
Collins would trade all three for more green in his pocket – as if the sole heir needs any more than what his grandfather will be leaving him with when he croaks.
Greed brings lies and deceit and if this place turns to anarchy, we’d all fall down. The surrounding cities and their head makers won’t hesitate to step in if we can’t control our own people.
Question is, did money already speak louder to my girl than I could?
I glance at Tisha, one of the chicks in Chloe’s little pack of peasants, perched on top of the bar so she can chat up the bartender.