7. Kaos
The compound is unusually quiet.
There’s always something going on around here, and anytime it’s quiet, it makes my skin crawl. The silence allows unwelcome memories to pool in my mind, each one making it hard to breathe. At least when Kovu’s playing violent video games to satisfy his need for blood and Bishop and Crew are arguing like siblings rather than father and son, it keeps the memories at bay. But when it’s quiet like this, there’s nothing to distract me from my own mind.
A knock at my door drags my attention from the television I’m not really watching, and when I look up to see a guilty-looking Kovu, I immediately know there’s something wrong. He’s changed out of the bloody clothes he was wearing when we returned from the De Marco estate, and he’s now wearing a gray hoodie and black sweatpants, his usual attire. He’s never been much for formalities, and the only time I ever see him in anything remotely nice, it’s only because Crew has threatened him into it.
“What have you done?” I ask.
“What makes you think I’ve done anything?”
He takes slow steps into the room, looking around the space he doesn’t often enter. We don’t spend much time in each other’s bedrooms in general, but I’m particularly anal about my space. The last person I shared it with ended up stabbing us in the back and almost tearing us apart. After she died, I had to change rooms and redecorate because I couldn’t stand the memories of her that clung to every wall. The mixture of dark wood and black fabric may seem depressing to most, but to me, it’s home, it’s where I’m safe.
“You look guilty, and you only ever look guilty when you’re about to ask for forgiveness for something.” We’ve been best friends for more than a decade, I know him almost as well as I know myself. Well, most of him, at least. There are parts of his past that not even I know, and I suspect I never will. I suspect he’ll never open up to anyone about the horrors he saw as a child.
He shuffles where he’s standing, his hands fisting and releasing over and over again. There’s definitely something wrong. “Bishop found a girl in the alley behind the garage.”
“And?”
“And Rogers patched her up. She’s asleep in the spare room, and she’s staying until she’s able to get back on her feet.” There’s more to the story, though. I know him well enough to know when he’s only giving me some of the facts, and that thought has uncertainty pooling in my stomach.
I blow out a long breath to settle the anger that threatens to escape from beneath the surface. I thought we were done with bringing women into our lives. If we need to get our dicks wet, none of us would have an issue finding a willing woman, so why would they think this is a good idea?
“Are you two fucking insane?” I snap.
“Crew cleared it.” Kovu shrugs like that makes any difference. I would put money on it having been Bishop to have that conversation, and he has the best poker face of anyone I’ve ever met. If Kovu had been the one to walk into that office and tell Crew we were harboring a wayward woman who was found bloody and broken, the conversation would have gone very fucking differently.
“Do you even know anything about her?” I snap. “How do you know she isn’t a fucking spy?”
Kovu sighs and rubs his hands down his face. My best friend is normally good at shielding his emotions, but right now, I have a window into his goddamn soul, and I don’t like what I’m seeing, because I’m having déjà vu.
“She’s not a spy, Kaos. She’s just a girl who was hurt real bad, and Bishop and I…” He trails off, but I don’t need him to finish the sentence to know where it was going. They feel something for her.
You would think because of our reputation, because of our role within this city that we would be cold and callous, completely devoid of feelings, but unfortunately that’s not the case, not entirely at least. It would be so much simpler if it were that way, if we could shut down our emotions completely, but sadly, that’s not our reality. No matter how ruthless we are, how many people we kill, or how many lives we ruin, we aren’t devoid of emotion.
I drop onto the edge of my mattress and let out a long breath. There are so many ways this could end badly, not least of which is this woman being planted here to take us down from the inside. We’ve been more on edge since Chicago, since the Lounder Cartel thought they could take us out and take our place. It’s the first time in three years anyone has thought to challenge us, and the last time someone did, we lost a member of our family. We lost my father, and we learned a lesson, or at least I did. Apparently, there are two people who didn’t and who are willing to allow history to repeat itself.
“How banged up is she?” I ask.
“Bad. Broken ribs, her arm is broken in two places, and she’s covered in so many bruises you can’t actually tell what color her skin is. It’s fucked up, and we don’t think she has anywhere to go. Why would she be alone and hurt in an alley if she had someone?”
“Maybe she was mugged.”
He tilts his head to the side like my suggestion is ridiculous, and it probably is. Muggers don’t tend to beat people within an inch of their lives to get a purse. “She wasn’t mugged, she was targeted.”
“Have you stopped to ask yourselves why she was targeted and whether her shit is going to come to our doorstep? Have either of you stopped to think at all?”
I’m getting more and more agitated the more I think about how fucking stupid the two of them are being, and why the fuck would Crew agree to this? He knows how much we lost the last time we trusted a woman. Why would he allow us to be in this position again?
“She’s just a girl, Kaos,” he growls. “She’s barely legal, she’s alone, and she’s hurt. Even you’re not so heartless to send her away, and neither is Crew.”
“You don’t know she’s legit.”
“Yes, I do. Of course I fucking do. You act like you were the only one she hurt, like you’re the only one who had your heart torn out when she betrayed us. We were all there with you, K. Every single one of us. But I knew there was something not quite right about her from the start. I’m a good judge of character, and you all forget that because of who I am. I fell for her in the end, but I always knew there was something off. This girl…she’s different. I saw it the second I laid eyes on her.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway. Silence stretches between us, but I’m not willing to break it, not when I’m certain he’s trying to say something, he’s just not sure how to. “If you’re so worried, just stay away from her, and we’ll keep her away from you.”
Before I can respond, he’s gone, and I’m left in my empty bedroom. I’ve liked it that way for a long time, craved the time with my own thoughts, but for the first time since she betrayed us and my father died as a result, I’m lonely in here.