Chapter 19
EVER
“What were you doing in Alexandria last Friday?”
The guys stop their conversations and glance in my direction. I set my fork down and wipe the corners of my mouth, stalling for time to come up with a good story.
More than a week has passed since I made the life-changing decision to make the drive to Alexandria. Gage was supposed to return to Dumas on Sunday, the day Bobby picked me up and we went to the farmers market and the flea market, but he stayed in Montgomery to help his grandmother.
Bobby flew into Alexandria late Friday. We video-called every chance we had. He couldn’t come down on Saturday. His business took up his time. I let him know I wasn’t upset.
Homework and work took up all my time, and when I see him again, I want to give him my full attention.
He said that was fair. I smile, remembering how he had made a heart on the screen, then a smiley face wearing a crown.
It was so cute, and when he smiled his dimpled smile, he was so damn sexy I blew him a kiss.
Bobby is picking up the pieces from when I lost Carlos and is putting my heart back together again, one small, forgotten piece at a time. Bobby said waiting until mid-week to see me was killing him slowly, but he understood. He’s such a good guy, but it doesn’t make the waiting any more bearable.
Deep in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Ty ask his question again. The suffocating silence is what clues me in that something is off.
Our Sunday brunch at José’s is loud and boisterous, a time for the crew to come together and catch up and for José and Ty to update the guys on what’s going on with their businesses in the International District and any trouble brewing between them and Lucas Harrington.
Lucas owns most of the buildings in the International District that businesses lease from, including Ty’s studio. José, however, owns Red Dahlia outright, which is a source of contention between him and Zeke Harrington’s dad.
“Ever, did you hear me?” Ty glares at me from across the large dining table.
“Who says I was anywhere near Alexandria?” My voice is steady, but my stomach is in knots.
I figured my brother had forgotten, since he hadn’t called or texted all week about where the tracking app showed I was at.
“The fucking app, Ever.”
“Hey, man, ease up.” José sets his hand on Ty’s arm, coming to my rescue as always. “Ever is grown. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”
“Alexandria is dangerous.”
“I don’t disagree. My brother was murdered there, remember?”
“Every day. I’m sorry.” Ty throws back a large glass of orange juice, wipes his hand across his mouth, and sets his palms on the table with his intense gaze on me.
I’m in deep shit, and he’ll ream me out later when José isn’t around to rescue me from his temper. That’s what he’s saying with his glare.
Ty is a lot like our dad. He’s hot-tempered and loud one minute and quiet the next, but it’s a silent storm rather than a raging one.
José covers Ty’s hand with his. “Thank you, everyone, for helping me celebrate the anniversary of my big bro’s death with a candlelight vigil at his gravesite. I’m sorry you weren’t feeling well, Ever.”
José is taking my word over the tracking app.
Guilt washes over me for not joining the crew when they celebrated Carlos’s life.
Instead, I listened to what was in my heart and lived and danced my heart out.
But I also made out with a guy and promised to spend time with him in exchange for helping Gwen get closer to graduating with her nursing degree.
I paid Gwen’s tuition and mailed her a letter. She was so excited when she shared the news with us over lunch at Gigi’s Diner. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back.
Three days. I’ll see Bobby, the bad boy of my fantasy, the villain of my fairy tales, in three days, and I cannot wait.
To have his hands on me, his mouth on mine, wondering what vehicle he’ll be driving .
. . Maybe he’ll bring the motorcycle again.
I can get used to the thrumming of a big, powerful machine between my legs. I groan, and it’s loud.
“Ever.”
Shit. I pretend not to hear my brother and make a smiley face on my plate with blueberries for eyes, a strawberry slice for the nose, and a swirl of maple syrup for the smile.
“Ever!”
Fine. “What, Ty?”
“What was that for?” Ty asks.
“What? What was what for?”
The guys around the table laugh.
“You groaned. What did you do this time?” my nosey brother asks.
“Who said I did anything?”
“Shit, E. We all know you’re reckless. I’m not buying the whole not feeling well bullshit. The tracking app”—Gage looks directly at José—“doesn’t lie. What the hell were you doing in Alexandria?”
I meet Gage’s glare. “I went to Crimson, okay?”
I’ve lied and kept secrets from Ty and the guys I call my family, though we’re not related by blood, for so long that it’s time I come clean.
“What the fuck, Ever?” Ty stands and smacks his palm on the table.
“Ty—”
He lunges over the narrow dining table, grabs my arms, and yanks me out of my chair.
I gasp in shock. Ty is never this rough with me.
I’m his little sis, his only sibling, and the apple of his and my father’s eyes.
I can do everything wrong, and they’ll ream me out and forgive me in the same sentence.
“I told you never to set foot there. Why would you disobey my order? Our order?” He sweeps his gaze over the room of men. His crew. Their crew. His and José’s.
The guys grumble. Gage won’t look at me. Year after year, I’ve continued to disappoint him with my recklessness and impulsiveness.
“I did it in Carlos’s memory.” I tug my arms from his hold and rub where Ty grabbed me.
“He said music and dance have the power to transcend violence and hatred. I know how much you and the crew hate Crimson and its owner.” I sit.
“Believe me, I kept my eye out for him, but I didn’t see anyone who matched Dominic Costello’s picture from the club’s website.
” He looks like an older version of Antonio Banderas.
“That’s because he’s not the owner.”
“What?” What Ty tells me doesn’t make sense.
“Dom is the puppet. Someone else is pulling the strings. Sanchez, tell my sis what you found.” Ty tips his head at the guy sitting across from me before he directs his next words at me. “Sanchez infiltrated the club’s payroll. He works there as a bartender.”
“Were you working last Friday?” Crap, what if Joey saw me? “I didn’t see you.”
“Nah, I asked for the day off to honor Carlos.”
His gaze on mine doesn’t waver. I tip my chin and keep eye contact. Give these guys an inch and they will take your soul. Joey shakes his head and laughs. “Mi princesa, you are something else.”
“A something else who is in deep shit.”
I cluck my tongue. Ty doesn’t let up. If I am impulsive, he is persistent.
“I’ve been there five months, and it’s the same guy giving orders. Tall. Ripped. Black hair. Bright green-bluish eyes.”
“Sounds like you have a thing for the dude.” Miguel makes an obscene gesture, jamming his thumb against his mouth as he blows out one cheek.
I roll my eyes.
“Nah, man, but the women—the women dig him. He leaves with one on the nights he’s there. Tall and skinny, no tits. Short and skinny, big tits. Curvy, huge tits. It doesn’t matter what shape or size they are. He likes them all.”
“So, he lives life one woman at a time,” I interject. “Good for him for living his life to the fullest. Hopefully he’s gloving up every time.” I shrug.
The guys’ eyes widen before they whoop and holler.
“The mouth on your baby sis, man.” Miguel slaps Ty’s shoulder.
Ty shoves him. Miguel shoves harder.
“Fight, fight, fight!” the guys chant. Laughter erupts around the table. I join in.
Ty’s not having it. Did I mention he is persistent?
“Tell Ever and the crew who the real owner of Crimson is. Tell us who lured Carlos to the kill shot point.”
The room goes quiet, and the air pulses with restrained anger. There is too much testosterone and too many questions left unanswered.
“A server gave me his name. She has it bad for him.”
“His name, motherfucker.”
I blow out a breath. Ty’s hatred won’t go away until Carlos’s killer or killers are brought to justice. “Give it a rest. Please. Carlos wouldn’t want you dishonoring his memory with violence.” Doesn’t Ty realize his hatred is toxic?
If anyone could understand the depths of my love for Carlos, it would be Ty. Carlos protected me and took me in when Ty and Gage couldn’t be there. Starting and running a business without letting it fail required all of Ty’s attention, including time away from watching over me.
Ty ignores my pleas, as he usually does. He grinds his teeth. “His name, Sanchez.”
“Bobby Bliss.”
My world shifts from epidemic worse to apocalyptic worse. “Wha . . . what did you say?”
“Bobby Bliss. He owns Crimson. He led Carlos to the kill shot point.”
The pieces fall together quickly. Bobby slept inside the club’s office because he knew the owner. The club was full, but there was an empty table that no one touched, as though the regulars knew who usually sat there. The server brought Bobby “the usual.”
It wasn’t because Bobby was a regular. Bobby is the owner, and the server is familiar with his preferences.
She called him “sir,” a formality and a sign of respect for his title as owner of Crimson nightclub and her boss.
The bouncers let him lead me out the back doors, my eyes closed, because he does that all the time.
Joey said Bobby left with a different woman. I was one of them. I ball my hand under the table. That lying jerk. I pick up my cell. “Do you have a picture? Tall, ripped, black hair, and blue-green eyes describe half the men in the club.”
I find “B” in my contacts and block his number. I am done with his smooth-talking ways and how he’ll be the villain in my fairy tales and the bad boy in my fantasies. He is everything he claims to detest in a person.