Dare To Run (The Sons of Steel Row #1)

I pressed my lips together. “But—”

“There are no buts to this situation. And you have no idea what this feels like, because you don’t have any family to stab you in the back like this.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he stiffened. “I mean . . . shit. Heidi—”

Okay, that hurt. I didn’t need his reminder that I was alone in this world, thank you very much. I knew it all too well. But I refused to show him he’d hurt me, so I scowled. “Stop. Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

He ran his hands down his face. “Fine.”

“And you’re right. I don’t know anything about this life you lead. This whole kill-or-be-killed thing.”

He dropped his hands to his lap. “That’s everyone’s life, darlin’. Most people are just too blind or na?ve to see it.”

“People like me?”

He shrugged. “Your words, not mine.”

“Why don’t you tell Tate about this? He’s the boss, right?” I leaned in close. “He could, y’know, handle the situation, and then you won’t have to. Common sense says—”

“No.” He reared back, his nostrils flared. “I will never turn him in. Never.”

“But . . .” I knew it was harsh, but if it came down to Scotty or Lucas, I’d always champion Lucas. I didn’t even know his little brother. And anyone who could plot to kill his own blood deserved what he got, really. But that didn’t mean Lucas had to be the one to pull the trigger. “So, what, you’d rather Scotty die by your hand? How is that better?”

“I’d rather he hadn’t started this goddamn mess in the first place.” He pushed back off the bar. Resting his palms on the bar, he leaned in and stopped when we were just nose to nose. God, he loved getting all up in my personal space during an argument. It was equal parts intimidating, annoying, and hot. “But he did, so I’ll take care of it. Not Chris. Not Tate. Not you. Me.”

Shaking my head, I forced myself to remain calm. “I don’t understand your reasoning. I’m trying, but I don’t.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead. “If Tate kills him . . . I know what happens to rats and traitors. Being my brother won’t save him from a slow, torturous death, and after he’s finally dead, his body will just disappear. But he should be with my ma. When she passed, I bought another plot, figured I could use it for a dead drop, so we have the room. He should be with Ma.”

The heartbreak was clear in his voice and I fought back tears. “Maybe you could ask Tate to jump him out and exile him? On the account he’s your brother?”

“He’s a traitor. If you turn on one of us, you turn on all of us. And you die.” He lifted a shoulder. “That’s the way it is.”

“That’s why you want to do it yourself,” I said, finally understanding. “You want to give him a merciful death. Fast and quick.”

He gritted his teeth. “He’s my brother.”

“And if he kills you first?”

He didn’t meet my eyes. “Chris will make the arrangements. All you’ll have to do is get out of Dodge before Bitter Hill comes sniffing around again.”

I crossed my arms, moving away from him. He acted as if his death would mean nothing. Like the only reason I cared whether he lived or died was because I didn’t want to be without protection. As if I’d just shrug and move on as if he’d never existed. I didn’t know whether to be pissed, insulted, or sad. “Wow. Just . . . wow.”

He stared at me, looking cold and aloof. “I need some peace and quiet.”

And then he walked away.

I watched him, anger burning red-hot through my veins, but didn’t follow him. If I did, I’d hit him. And if I hit him, I’d kiss him. And I didn’t want to kiss him right now.

I wanted to hate him. Too bad I loved him instead.

Chris came over, his beer empty, and set it down on the bar. “Trouble in paradise already?”

“As if you’d expected anything else?” I asked, my tone as neutrally passive as I could manage. “Want another?”

“Yeah.” He sat down and looked at Lucas—who glared back at him. “You need to back off him. He’s not your knight in shining armor.”

I poured his beer, trying to ignore the stinging behind my eyes. God, I hadn’t cried in years. Years. And now here I was, worrying about a man who didn’t give two shits about me, seconds from tears for the millionth time in a short handful of days, and I couldn’t stop. Lucas was trying to break me. “I never said he was.”

“You don’t need to say it. I can see it.” Chris tossed cash on the bar. “But you can save him, for once, if you’re willing.”

I slid his beer toward him and stole a look at Lucas. He watched, those green eyes of his burning into me, as I took the cash off the bar. “Oh? How so?”

Chris leaned closer. “There’s a party tomorrow night. Tate asked for you to come, but Lucas told him you had to work. Word is, Tate’s pissed.”

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