Chapter 55
chapter
fifty-five
Calder
“Oh my god.” Shay stared at Andrew—Graham—bleeding red into the cheap, college-standard carpet.
“You fucking bitch.” Graham groaned, doubling over, forehead hitting the carpet, hands still grasping between his thighs.
“Oh my god,” she repeated, gaze darting from Graham to the gun still in her hand and back again.
I stepped between her and Graham, clutching her chin and dragging her gaze to mine. Then I gently undid her grip on the gun, turned the safety on, and tucked it into my waistband.
“I didn’t know!” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, this is fucking perfect,” Butcher said. “Better than I could have planned.” Shay’s gaze lifted over my shoulder, as if noticing him for the first time.
Thumb and forefinger grasping her chin, I tugged her gaze back to mine. “Shay.”
Now, with the gun safely tucked in my pants, and Shay out of harm, I examined her. Her lip was bloody, and a violent bruise was blooming across her cheek.
“He hit you,” I said. “Again.”
My hand absently came to the gun in my waistband, itching to shoot.
“I shot him,” she said. “I shot him in the dick.”
My attention shifted from the asshole on the ground to Shay. Her gaze may have been on me, but her attention was elsewhere. Her throat bobbed with swallows, and every now and then she blinked, eyes wide, as if reliving the past few minutes.
“Is he going to die?” she asked.
I fucking hope so.
Butcher went over and slapped Graham on the thigh. He groaned, toppling on his side to the ground.
“He’ll be fine,” Butcher said.
Her brow furrowed and she disappeared into herself again. I guided her toward a free chair, sitting her down. I knelt between her thighs, rubbing up and down, trying to bring her back.
She’d just shot someone, so it wasn’t a shock she was acting like this. Most people went their entire lives without using a gun, let alone unloading it into someone.
But I was so fucking proud of her.
“Shay…” I started, just as Butcher got on the phone, calling in what I assumed was cleanup. Her eyes drifted over my shoulder, watching him.
Less than thirty minutes later, the cavalry arrived. I absently noted them. They didn’t have a tattoo like Butcher and me.
Butcher’s men. Not affiliated with the organization then.
Shay was silent as the room was scrubbed.
I was certain this was it, the moment she finally understood why we couldn’t be together.
The moment I lost her.
The only indication she was paying attention was a slight pinch in her brow as Butcher’s men lifted Graham up and hauled him out of the room.
“I’m so sorry, Shay,” I said. “So fucking sorry.”
Her eyes flickered to me, softening, and I felt like she was finally seeing me again.
Butcher’s hand landed on my shoulder. “All right, hero. Time to say goodbye to the damsel.”
For the first time in over an hour, Shay spoke. “Goodbye? Where are you going?”
Butcher spoke for me. “Your hero needs to pay a debt.”
Her brow furrowed, looking above my head, at Butcher. “Who are you?”
“The soon-to-be head of the Mafia,” he said.
“Shay, I—” I broke off as Shay stood up, pushing past me. A steely determination overcame her features.
“You’re the head?” Shay tilted her head, looking Butcher up and down.
No ounce of fear in her.
Butcher grinned in a way that made me want to step between them.
“In a few hours I will be,” he said, offering her his vicious white smile.
“Let him go,” she said.
“Not much you can offer to free him, little girl,” he said. But the way he arched a brow, tilting his head, let me know he was interested.
And that was not fucking good.
“Butcher—”
“How are you going to launder money?” Shay asked, interrupting me.
“That’s what this guy is for.” He slapped me on the shoulder again.
“That seems inefficient,” she said.
Butcher’s gaze sharpened, but before he could speak, Shay continued. “I recently learned my work is worth something to you guys. I’ll let you use my computer if you let him go—”
I faced Shay. “Shay, don’t.”
“Hold on,” Butcher said. “Let her speak.”
“Shay,” I said, ignoring him, and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “I have spent the better part of my life keeping my loved ones out of this. I will fucking die before I let you trade places with me.”
“I won’t take your place,” she said, gaze locked on mine. Intense. Searing.
Protective.
The only person who’d ever been protective of me was my older brother. I was the protector.
It stopped my words in my tracks.
Her gaze drifted back to Butcher. “I’ll give you access for one year. Enough time to move the operation off my fucking computer and somewhere else.”
He laughed. “I could just force you, little girl. Same as your ex.”
She shrugged. “You could…but isn’t that so messy and complicated?”
Her features were cool and composed. She had a soft, almost teasing lilt to her voice, as if she wasn’t bargaining with the new Mafia lead.
I watched her, transfixed.
“You’d have to worry about if I squealed,” she said. “You’d have to keep threatening me and reminding me how scary you are. All the while, you’re trying to prove yourself as boss, running a highly illegal operation. I imagine any slight hiccup would be…bad.”
His eyes narrowed into slits.
“And for what?” she continued. “To eventually just end up back here, with your dick blown off.”
This was the brilliant mind I spent hours decoding in her papers. This was the warrior who’d battled a silent illness her entire life. The woman who’d ensnared a man who could have ended her life.
The woman who’d beat him.
And I was fucking mesmerized.
A sharp, vicious smile speared Butcher’s lips. “Three years.”
“Two, and I’m not involved. You never call on me or Calder again.”
Butcher speared his hands into his jeans. His gaze slid from her to me. Something close to appreciation in them.
He answered her, gaze on me. “Deal.”