Chapter 14 Malice
MALICE
I’m behind the wheel as we pass under a road sign that says “Welcome to Detroit.” Vic and I have been trading off all the way back, and I pushed the pace a little harder than usual, ready to be done with this shit.
Something like relief fills me when I finally pull into the garage, killing the engine and letting the feeling of being home settle in.
Ransom woke up as the car rolled to a stop, and now he sits rubbing at his face.
“Oh good, we’re here,” he mumbles around a yawn.
Vic’s in the passenger seat, wide awake. He never sleeps when someone else is driving. Not even me. He’s always gotta have his eyes on the road, ready to anticipate what’s coming next.
We talked a bit while I drove, keeping our voices down so we wouldn’t wake up Ransom, but for the last few hours, we just rode in silence. I could tell Vic was counting in his head, something he does when his shit is off balance and he needs to center himself.
He doesn’t like leaving his routine, even though he can do it when he needs to, but he has all these little habits and mini routines to help him cope with it. To keep him feeling like he’s in control.
The usual stab of guilt hits me as I think about that.
I know Vic’s issues come from the shit our piece of trash dad did to him when we were younger. Vic got the worst of it, but dear old pops was a monster to all of us.
We all have our own scars from that, and we all would’ve protected each other from those things if we could’ve. I know Vic and Ransom feel guilty that they’re not the ones who went to prison for murdering the bastard, but I wouldn’t have wanted either of them to go in my place.
“Fucking hell,” Ransom says, shoving his door open and getting out with a groan. “You know I love cars, but road trips suck ass.”
Vic and I follow, stretching our legs and working out the kinks in our muscles. I agree with Ransom. It feels good not to be on the road anymore.
Before we can even unload the car, Vic is heading up to his room. I already know he wants to get back to his computer and all his screens, something routine and familiar for him.
Ransom rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck with a little sigh. “I’ve got to get ready to work on that car the Donovan gang is bringing through soon. We probably didn’t lose too much time.”
“Good,” I say. The last thing I want is for other shit we need to do to fall through because we had to fuck around playing X’s errand boys. “When I get back from doing the drop, I’ll give you a hand.”
“Nah, I’m good,” Ransom says. “I’ve got it under control. And if I need help, I’ll drag Vic down from his computers and put a wrench in his hands.”
I snort at that, already picturing the sour look on Vic’s face if it comes to that.
“Help me unload the car first,” I tell Ransom.
Between the two of us, we get all the shit unloaded, piling it into a corner for now.
“Vic’s gonna be pissed if we leave that there, you know,” Ransom warns me as he starts to grab a few tools from the rack on the wall.
“I’ll deal with it when I get back.”
There’s only so far into our home Vic’s influence can spread, and the garage where we do our work is harder to keep in line. Ransom and I have a theory that the reason Vic keeps his room so immaculately organized is to make up for the fact that the rest of the place sometimes falls into chaos.
With a groan, I get back in the car and drive to the drop point. X’s latest task came with instructions to leave the file we stole in a designated spot—somewhere out of the way and remote—so that’s what I do.
When we first started getting jobs from this fucker, Vic did everything he could to track down X’s identity.
But he didn’t have any luck. Whoever the hell this mysterious man is, he managed to pull strings to get me released from a thirty year prison sentence after serving only four.
On top of that, he has enough resources that he covered his tracks completely.
It’s almost fucking impossible to hide from Vic when he really puts his mind to finding someone, but despite all his hacking skills, he couldn’t figure out who X is.
It eats at me a little, owing something to an unknown person. It makes me feel like I’m still in jail, in a way, even though nothing is as bad as that shit was.
I reach up as I pull to a stop near the drop point, absently rubbing at the scar just below my ear as a phantom pain shoots through my neck. The shiv I was stabbed with never managed to get deep enough to kill me, but the memory of it still makes my stomach clench and my skin feel too tight.
Shaking off memories I’d rather not dwell on, I pull the key out of the ignition and slide out of the car, glancing around as I take in my surroundings. We’ve never gone to the same drop point twice, and just like always, there’s no one here. No hint of X at all.
Just the way he likes it.
I grunt and stride toward the bench with the large metal trash can beside it, surreptitiously dropping the files into the trash can. Then I turn around and head back to the car, done with this shit.
I start driving back to the warehouse we live in, thinking about helping Ransom get set up for the next job or cleaning up the bags in the corner so Vic doesn’t flip out.
But instead, I find myself heading off course, driving toward the campus where Willow goes to school.
There’s a feeling in my chest that’s like…
fuck, I don’t know what to call it. It’s a want, and it’s tied to Willow, but I figure it’s just me wanting to make sure she didn’t get up to anything she shouldn’t have while we were gone.
It’d be smart to check on her, just to be safe.
Thanks to Vic’s hacking abilities, we all know her entire school schedule, and I reach her campus just before she should be getting out of her midday class. Leaving my car parked in the nearest lot, I scan the building she’s supposed to be in, waiting for her to emerge.
But as the other students come out in a rush of bodies that eventually slows to a trickle, there’s no sign of her.
I narrow my eyes, my shoulders tensing.
What the fuck is going on?
If there’s one thing I can say for Willow Hayes, it’s that she’s always fucking consistent. She goes to her classes and then goes home. Sometimes she stops off at the grocery store, but that’s about it. There’s never anything that strange about her routine.
Once the students have filed out of the building, I step inside myself, poking around to make sure she’s not just in the bathroom or something.
But she’s not here.
Suspicion burns in my chest, hot and fast. Did she try to leave town while we were gone? Is she pulling some shit on us?
We didn’t tell her we were leaving, but maybe she found out somehow and decided to use that time to escape.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.
I stalk away from the building and pull out my phone, calling Vic.
“Mal?” he answers. “Was something wrong with the drop?”
“No. I can’t find the fucking girl,” I snap. “She’s not on campus.”
“Wait,” Vic says, and I can hear his fingers clacking over the keys of his keyboard on the other end of the call. A few seconds go by while he checks the cameras we put in her house. “She’s not at home either.”
What the actual fuck?
Anger rises in me, burning hotter and brighter, and I grip the phone in my hand. This is what happens when we don’t stick to the fucking plans. This is what happens when we leave loose ends dangling in the goddamn breeze.
“Wait.” Vic speaks up again before I can say anything else. “She just got home. You think she skipped classes?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, eyes narrowed as I walk back to the car. “I don’t know. But I’m about to find out.”
Dropping the call, I shove my phone back into my pocket, then get in the car and speed off toward her place.
It’s a shit-hole of a building, and the front entry door is cracked open. A few people are smoking on the steps, and they eye me with curious looks as I stalk up the stairs and push the door open.
None of them are stupid enough to ask if I belong there, and that’s good. Given the mood I’m in, it would not have ended well for them.
I head right to Willow’s floor and bang on the door, counting the seconds in my head like I’m Vic or something.
There’s a moment of silence, then I hear the soft shuffle of footsteps inside. There’s a clicking sound as the deadbolt unlocks, and as soon as the door starts to open, I shove it wider and barge in, stepping into her apartment.
“What—? Malice?” Willow stumbles back a few steps, looking shocked. “What are you doing here?”
Rather than answering her question, I swivel my head back and forth, taking in her small, run-down apartment. I’ve never been in here before, but I’ve caught a few glimpses of it on the screens in Vic’s room from time to time, so I know the general layout of the place.
When I glance over at the wall between the living room and the kitchen, I freeze, my eyes narrowing.
“What the hell is this?” I grit out. “Are you planning on running, Solnyshka? Trying to skip town on us?”
“No.” She shakes her head, her light blonde hair shimmering with the quick movement. “No, I’m not—”
“Then what the fuck are those?” I jab a finger toward the boxes lined up against the wall. “Looks like you’re packing up to me. So what is it? You’re trying to leave? Trying to give us the slip? We told you what would happen if you set a foot out of line, so what the fuck is this?”
She shakes her head again, swallowing hard. “I haven’t done anything. You said not to sell you out, and I haven’t. Those boxes don’t have anything to do with you!”
“That’s not good enough. You need to tell me what’s going on, or I swear to fuck—” I bite off the threat, because she already knows what’s going to happen.
“It’s not—I have to—”
Irritated and tired of her shit, I step toward her. She stayed by the door when I barged in, and as I move closer to her, she presses her back up against it, her eyes wide.
“I’m only going to ask you this one more time,” I tell her, bracing my hands on the door beside her head and dropping my face so my eyes are level with hers. “Why are you leaving?”
“Because I have to!” she finally blurts.
“Why?” I keep pushing, not letting up until I hear what I need to hear. “Has someone been threatening you? Asking about what happened that night?”
“No! It doesn’t have anything to do with that. Not everything is about that! I still have a life, and there’s still shit that happens that I have to deal with. I told you, this is none of your business!”
The words all burst out of her in a rush, and she’s gasping when she finishes.
Her eyes flash as she stares at me, her delicate chin lifted.
There’s so much anger and defiance in her expression, but they aren’t the only things there.
Something vulnerable and tired lurks under the surface, and it makes me pause for a second.
“Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” I say at last. “You know you can’t lie to me, Solnyshka. Not for long.”
We both know I’m right. She glares at me for a beat, seeming to be fighting some inner battle with herself. Then her chin wobbles and she sighs, slumping in place against the door as if something heavy is pulling her down.
Her voice trembles a bit when she speaks again, but it’s not from fear or anger this time.
“I’m not leaving town,” she whispers. “But I have to leave this apartment. I don’t… I can’t pay my rent.”
“What? Why not?”
When we paid the rest of her tuition, we put money in her account. I remember, because Ransom and I argued over how much to give her. At the time, I thought it was too much for a bribe, especially considering that our plan to take out Nikolai had never included having to pay off a witness.
Willow looks down at the floor, her voice dropping so low I can barely hear it. “Because my mom stole everything from me.”
My head jerks back in surprise. “What?”
“She… she’s so good at stuff like this. Making people trust her, acting like she’s a victim, pushing the fact that she’s my mom. I guess she went to the bank and convinced them she needed access to my account, and they just gave it to her. She took everything I had.”
My jaw tightens. I can feel my anger rising again, although this time it’s directed at someone other than the girl in front of me.
Fuck, no. Her mother isn’t getting away with this.