Chapter 40
chapter
forty
CALDER
Butcher waited outside of Shay’s apartment. I walked Shay to her door, shielding her from him and purposefully ignoring his existence.
She didn’t seem to notice.
I waited for her to get inside and in the elevator before turning to him.
“Nice place,” he said, hands in his pockets, leaning against the brick facade. “Did you know this used to be a hole? After the housing collapse a bunch of contractors went bunk, so for over a decade this was just—”
“What the fuck do you want?” My neck itched.
What if I hadn’t been here? What if Shay was alone and he—
“You really need to work on your hellos,” he said.
“See, I was thinking I needed to get better at goodbyes. They don’t seem to be sticking.”
Butcher kicked off the wall, illumined under a flickering streetlight. My eyes landed on the now-visible blood drenching his shirt.
“Guy was a gusher,” he said. “You know how it is.”
My neck prickled. My gut froze into ice. He was below Shay’s window.
Because of me.
Maybe I’d let his bullshit fuck-boy energy fool me.
But he was the fucking Butcher.
The most dangerous man in the Mafia. A killer.
“So,” he said with a grin. “Ready to take my offer yet?” I folded my arms, quirking my head to the side, stretching my neck.
“Look,” Butcher continued. “I’m trying to be reasonable here. You’re living in-between right now. With your hobby and your girl—yeah, I know about both.” He pulled out his phone, showing me a picture of me and Shay earlier.
She was pressed against the books, her skirt flipped up—
I snatched his phone, deleting it before slamming it into the pavement.
Butcher laughed. “Whoa, I would have deleted it. I’m not really into good girls. Goths with a mean streak are more my thing. How is your sister, by the way? A coroner in the family is always helpful.”
The air was suffocating.
The stars poked sharp into my skin as the black sky descended, wrapping velvety tendrils around my throat.
I was suddenly back in time, graduating from college, as a man with similar tattoos showed me photos of someone I loved.
My only choice to take their offer.
Now here I was, with another man and his tattoos, as he showed me pictures of someone I loved.
Demanded I take the deal.
I’d let myself believe in normal, and this was what happened. Shay in danger. My sister now also caught in the crosshairs.
“Listen, my man, buddy, pal, we’re on a time crunch here, okay?” He grabbed my shoulder—hand bloody, staining my shirt—as if we really were buddies. “The longer the org goes without payment, the more likely my neat little coup turns into a fucking civil war.”
I shifted on my heels. Something about the first conversation had stuck in my mind.
“You don’t need me,” I said. “You can easily get the books and take out Andrew.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. I can. But then I’ll just be the next asshole holding an empty purse out to a bunch of guns. I need a cleaner. Preferably a loyal one. One who understands how to move money out of one hand and, I don’t know, into mine.”
Silence lingered in the crisp winter air between us.
If I wanted this life, if I’d chosen it, it wouldn’t be a bad deal. Instead of being a peon, I’d be in power. Second to the boss.
But I didn’t want this life.
“Not ready to join me yet?” Butcher said, then dropped my shoulder. “Whatever. Someday soon you might realize you don’t have a choice but to take my offer.”
“Is that a threat?” I growled.
“An observation,” he said. He booped me on the nose, fucking booped my nose.
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t fucking boop me.”
“Don’t be a boop bitch,” he said, then left.
I drove back home in silence.
My perfect day with Shay had shattered into reality. Seriously, what the fuck was I thinking? I didn’t get to have normal. By trying to be normal, I was putting Shay in danger.
When I got home, I tossed my keys on a side table with a loud clank. The lights turned on with me as I went to the kitchen. I was going to bake. I was going to slam this bullshit into some goddamn butter.
The kitchen lights turned on, illuminating a very large person sitting at my counter, their back to me.
“Jesus.” I jumped. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“Awhile,” Stone said, not turning around.
A tangible silence fell, static and buzzing against the hair on my arms. I slowly walked to the other side of the counter, facing him.
We hadn’t talked since our ill-fated attempt at lunch.
“Hungry?” I asked. “I was going to bake—”
“Why?” he asked. “Why did you join? It doesn’t make sense.”
I exhaled and stepped back, leaning against the sink, running my hands through my hair. He wasn’t supposed to find out about this.
Finding out his sacrifice was in vain would gut him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, hoping he’d let it go with that.
But, of course, he didn’t.
“What does that mean?” he said.
I dragged my hand along the back of my neck.
Stone stood up, planting his hands on the granite. “Tell me the truth or we’re fucking done, Calder.”
I could see the veracity of his words burning in his blue eyes, but words got lodged in my throat, stuck on a suspended breath.
He exhaled a disgusted sound and turned to leave.
“They told me they’d kill you in prison if I didn’t take their deal,” I said to his back.
He froze, and though I couldn’t see his face, I knew his reaction by the way his shoulders fell. By how his head hung.
Fuck.
When Stone turned around, he’d done his best to conceal the emotions on his features. But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“You do what Dad did?” he asked.
A thin thread of fear wove between his brows, but he quickly erased it.
“No,” I said. “Fuck no. I clean their money.”
His shoulders sagged, barely enough to notice.
Then he straightened his back. “I’m getting you out.” He spun around on his heel again, as if about to go confront the entire fucking Mafia.
I ran around the counter and grabbed his arm. “You can’t.”
He peeled my hand off his arm. “I will.”
“Stone. Forget you and me, think about Fig.” He paused, recognition sliding across his face. “They’ll go for her.”
His eyes searched mine, as if hoping he’d find a lie. When he found none, he exhaled and sat back at the counter, dragging a hand down his face.
After a few moments, he spoke. “This isn’t right.”
It wasn’t right.
It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to take the fall. He wanted us to live a normal life. Instead, in a twisted way, he got the dream. He could live a normal life. So could Fig.
I was the reason for all this anyway.
I killed our father.
“Go live a normal, happy life,” I said, echoing the words he’d told me years ago when the police dragged him away.
Stone looked like he wanted to argue but, in the end, said nothing.
By the time he left, it was nearing midnight. I still hadn’t changed out of my clothes from earlier, and a text message waited for me.
I had a really great time tonight.
Shay.
Tonight was more than great. It was…normal. I got to be a boyfriend buying his girlfriend books. Talking about our life.
Where doing that didn’t put her in danger.
I stared at the message until the words blurred into the screen.
I’d promised her Saturday, and I’d fulfill that promise—maybe selfishly. One last night, where I fulfill her biggest fantasies. Where I get to pretend.
Then I would leave her alone, and whatever happened between Butcher and me, wouldn’t fall back on her.
I was never supposed to have this, anyway.