Chapter 26 Malice
MALICE
The thing about leaving the penthouse lately is that it makes me feel like there’s ants under my skin. Itchy and restless, on edge. I feel like I’m waiting for an attack to come, always looking over my shoulder, trying to be ready for whatever happens.
I wouldn’t have left at all, but we need some shit if we want to be both protected and ready for our mission.
If Olivia fucking Stanton thinks we’re gonna let her kill Willow, then she’s out of her fucking mind.
We’ve been rebuilding our stock of gear ever since we got back to Detroit, but now that we know what we’re up against, we need more.
Vic’s done some things to increase our surveillance capabilities around the penthouse, doing what he can there, but it’s not enough.
I trust my twin with my life, but I always have a backup plan, and it’s usually the more old-fashioned way, I guess.
Weapons, bullets, a few good knives. We’ve gotta be ready to throw down with whoever thinks they can come for what’s ours, and that means we have to have the firepower to do the job.
I grab several bulletproof vests, adding them to the stash of gear I’ve already picked out, then take my haul to the counter, going through a mental list in my head.
My brothers and I have had plenty of occasions where we needed to buy weapons over the years, and there are plenty of places in Detroit to get them discreetly if you know where to look.
The place that’s become our go-to is in the back of a pawn shop.
A whole under-the-table business is run behind the scenes here by a greasy fucker named Smith.
He’s too fucking chatty, usually, and he’s missing two fingers on his left hand.
Ransom and I have an ongoing bet over how he lost them, although for all his talk, he has yet to spill that particular story.
He also prices his merchandise high, but money isn’t an object anymore, and his shit is usually the best.
The best is what we need right now.
Smith takes a look at the pile I put on the dented chrome counter he stands behind and whistles.
“You don’t usually get so much all at once,” he says, scratching at his pock-marked cheek with the two remaining fingers on his left hand. “But then, I haven’t seen you or your brothers around much lately. Run into some trouble?”
“Something like that,” I grunt back. “How much?”
He rifles through the pile. “Five grand.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind, Smith. I could go out to the pawn shop up front and get this shit for less than that.”
“Not the vest,” he points out. “You won’t find that up there. Those aren’t standard issue. This is cop grade. Nothing’s getting through that unless it’s a point blank spray or a bullet made specifically to pierce through Kevlar.”
Smith always does drive a hard bargain, but that’s just part of the process when you go to places like this. We used to deal with him all the time when we had our chop shop, sometimes even trading him car work in exchange for weapons when we needed to.
It’s weird how that feels like it was so long ago, when it really wasn’t, in the grand scheme of things. It feels like it was a different lifetime, in a way. As if I could divide my life into two parts—before Willow and after Willow.
Almost as if he can read my thoughts, Smith purses his thin lips thoughtfully. “You know, I’d almost wondered if you and your brothers had gotten out of the game. Used to be I could rely on one of you coming in here like clockwork to get supplies. Then nothing for a while. You guys going straight?”
“Not exactly,” I tell him. “We’ve just had other shit going on.”
Her arches a brow and chuckles. “Must be a woman. That’s the only thing that could ever get me to drop everything I had going on. Gave up a lot of promising work for a nice pair of legs and a sweet ass. Hell, I gave up two fingers for a woman who was all that and more.”
I roll my eyes, not reacting much to his words, even though I make a note to tell Ransom about it later. I’m not going to admit out loud that I’ve got anything in common with Smith, but he’s not wrong.
Our lives are completely unrecognizable from what they once were. The three of us had a system, a routine. We did our chop work, we did jobs for X, and we tried to find time to do our own shit while we could, making plans for some distant, vague future when we weren’t gonna be under anyone’s thumb.
Then Willow came along and turned all of that on its head.
But I’m not complaining at all.
All the shit we were doing before seems unimportant compared to protecting the woman we all love.
Determination fills my chest, rising up like a wave.
I’ve fucking failed in the past, and I know it.
I wasn’t able to protect our mother, no matter how hard I tried to.
I wasn’t able to keep Vic from being brutalized by our father before that.
But I refuse to fail this time. I will protect Willow, no matter what it takes.
I’ll die for her if it comes to it. Just as long as her light doesn’t go out.
Just as long as my Solnyshka keeps shining her light on the world.
“Fine. Five grand,” I tell Smith, nodding sharply.
He looks me over and then smirks. “Yup. Definitely a woman. Pleasure doing business with you. Watch your back out there.”
I make a noise of acknowledgement and pay him, then gather up the gear, heading out the back way with everything.
The gun in my waistband, hidden beneath my shirt, is a familiar and comforting weight as I glance around, checking the alley to make sure it’s clear. I keep an eye out, wary and alert, as I drive back to our homebase, and I don’t drop my guard until I get back to the penthouse.
As I take the elevator up, I shift my weight impatiently, the agitation inside me ramping up higher and higher. I’ve been gone less than two hours, but that’s two hours too long with the way shit has been going lately.
I need to see my Solnyshka. I need to touch her and hear her voice.
Willow is in the living room with Vic, who’s working on the couch for once instead of in his office.
They both glance up when I enter the condo, but I only have eyes for her in this moment.
She stands up to greet me, but before the words even pass her lips, I drop the gear by the door and stride toward her, hauling her into my arms and pulling her close.
“What—”
That’s all she manages to get out before I’m kissing her, hard and hungry. Everything in me needs this right now. Needs to touch her and worship her, to show her how much she means. How far I’m willing to go for her.
There’s a moment where she stiffens with surprise, but then she melts into it, making a low, pleased noise as she kisses me back.
When the need to breathe makes my lungs burn, I draw back just enough to look down at her. Her brown eyes shine like rich chocolate, and I find myself speaking before I can even think about it, the words pouring out before I can stop them.
“I already told you I love you,” I say roughly. “But that’s not fucking good enough.”
“Not good enough for what?” she asks, frowning a little.
“To make you understand how I feel. How fucking deep this shit goes. I’d do anything to keep you safe.
I don’t care who I have to kill, or how many people I have to lay out.
I don’t care if I have to die for it. No one is ever gonna lay a finger on you again.
You deserve so much more than the bullshit life has handed to you, and I’m gonna make sure you get it.
You’re just… you’re everything, Solnyshka.
You’re so fucking beautiful and strong. You’ve been through so much, and you never give up.
You never let anything break you, and I love that so goddamned much. You’re the light to all my darkness.”
At first, Willow seems speechless. She stares up at me, her full lips parted and kiss bruised.
“Malice,” she murmurs softly. Then she reaches up, cupping my face in both of her hands.
I lean into the touch, letting her cool, soft palms soothe my heated skin.
“And you’re the darkness I need,” she whispers. “My perfect dark knight.”
A small movement in my periphery reminds me that my brother is watching. He’s abandoned his computer for once, leaning against the back of the couch, his gaze locked on the two of us.
Glancing over at him, I jerk my chin just slightly.
I don’t need to do more than that. The two of us have always been able to communicate without words, to let each other know things with looks and gestures. Mom always called it our twin telepathy.
He gets to his feet, accepting my silent invitation. When he comes up behind Willow, sandwiching her between our bodies, her breath catches.
“Oh.”
Her mouth falls open as she leans back against him, letting her hands slide down to rest against my chest.
“Vic needs you too. Just as much as I do. Do you want us to show you?” I ask her, and it comes out on a low growl.
Willow swallows, and she’s pinned so tightly between us that I can feel the way her body shivers against mine. She holds my gaze, but I know her words are meant for both me and my twin when she whispers her answer.
“Yes.”