I couldn’t help it, since I’d practically raised the little fucker and all. Maybe it was something I’d done or said. Maybe I hadn’t been enough of a parent figure to him after Ma died. I’d been all he had after she’d passed. I’d tried my best, but I’d been nothing more than a kid myself.
When I joined the Sons of Steel Row after Ma fell ill, we finally had the money to pay our bills and put food on the table, but she hadn’t approved of where the money came from. Had refused the money I’d tried to give her, so instead, I’d bought groceries and paid off her mortgage behind her back . . . whether she’d liked it or not.
I’d done what needed to be done.
But she’d died, and all Scotty had was me to look up to.
No wonder he was fucked-up like he was. I wasn’t a role model and never would be. I’d joined this life because it had been a challenge, and we’d needed money, so I’d accepted the challenge. I’d worked my ass off to gain their trust, and then I’d worked even harder. When Scotty had followed in my footsteps and joined, too, I’d welcomed him into the fold with open arms. And look what had come of it. This.
I had no clue what to do with him now, but turning him in to Tate wasn’t an option. In the end, he might need to die, but he didn’t need to be ripped to shreds by the Sons. And I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet. There had to be a way for me to redeem him. To show him what he was doing was wrong and guide him down the correct path . . . whatever the hell that was. He was my little brother. I’d practically raised him. I couldn’t just give up on him.
It couldn’t be too late, damn it.
I tore my gaze off the tag that changed everything, made one more quick stop at the hardware store across the street, then opened the downstairs door, climbing the stairs one slow step at a time. Music played, and the welcoming scent of lasagna hit me halfway up. I paused for a second, taking it all in.
Outside, life was hell and dark. But in here . . .
It was like a whole other world. One I liked.
She sang along to whatever song was playing, her voice soft, musical, and intoxicating. The way she acted, the way she was, was so different from anyone else I’d ever known, besides my ma. Maybe that’s why I’d rescued her from Bitter Hill. She had a freshness to her that drew a dirty soul like me in. She wasn’t from the same twisted world that I was from.
Not until I’d pulled her in.
But what else should I have done? Let her get raped, killed, left for the rats and the roaches . . . or worse? Bitter Hill had their hands in human trafficking, too. There was no telling what they would’ve done with her once they were finished.
There hadn’t been any other choice. I’d had to save her.
And now I had to save her from myself, too.
I might not be able to run anymore, but she could. I could give her my one-man escape plan and send her on her way. Kiss my chance at starting a new life good-bye.
Scotty had taken that from me.
But Heidi needed to get the hell outta Boston, and I was going to do everything in my power to make that happen before Scotty launched his attack. I couldn’t let her get caught in the cross fire.
No matter what I decided, what I did, I couldn’t let Scotty hurt Heidi.
I pushed the door open and walked in, forcing a grin to my face as I juggled the door and the bags. “Honey, I’m home.”
“Now who’s being domestic?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, kicking the door shut behind me. “When in Rome . . .”
Laughing, she motioned me into the kitchen. Her resilience constantly amazed me. Minutes ago, she’d been attacked, and now she was singing, dancing, and cooking as if nothing had ever happened. She was so strong and fierce, and she needed to stay that way. If push came to shove, I’d do what I needed to do to keep her safe, whether she was willing or not.
I’d do what needed to be done, like I always did.
And she’d damn well take my escape plan and run.
“Did you get everything?” she asked, pulling the lasagna out and setting it on the waiting potholders she’d put out on the counter. “I know it was quite the extensive list.”
“Yeah. It was practically the whole store,” I said, nudging her with my elbow playfully. I loved how the top of her head came up only to the bottom of my shoulders. “Are we having a party I don’t know about? Or did our fake relationship drive you to drink already?”
Closing the oven with her hip, she took the mitts off and blew her hair out of her face. She wore a black tank top and a pair of yoga pants. She had little to no makeup on, and her blond hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. If I wasn’t mistaken, she didn’t have a bra on underneath her shirt. She looked relaxed and at home. I’d never seen her look more gorgeous.
And I was dying to see if I was right about the no-bra situation.