35. Serena #2
Why was I here when I should be back at my home, pleading with Serena? It was over, wasn’t it? She wanted to tell me that we were done again. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let her walk away from me. If she looked me in the eye and said she was done, I still couldn’t give up on us. I don’t got that in me.
If I had to get on my knees every damn day and beg her not to go, I would.
This marriage? It might’ve started as some family arrangement—but somewhere along the line, it became mine. Ours. And I’d fight for it. For her. I loved her. Ain’t no way was I letting her forget that.
I stepped to Erik’s front door. I reached up to knock, but it swung open before I could.
“I told you no , Erik! I can do this on my own.”
I was surprised to see Noelle rushing out of his house, fury in her face, buttoning up her shirt.
What the hell is going on here?
“Nellie.” Erik followed after her, shirt open. “Please, just listen.”
“No. Because if I listen, I’ll stay,” she bit out, spinning around to face him on the porch. “And you know I can’t afford to stay.”
“You already did,” Erik said, voice low, intimate. “You stayed last night.”
“That was a mistake. Stay out of my business, Erik.”
I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling like a voyeur.
Both heads snapped toward me. Erik blinked in surprise. Noelle’s face shuttered in an instant.
“Bad time, Short Stack?” I asked dryly.
Noelle didn’t answer. She just pushed past us and got into her car, tires spinning out as she drove away.
“I can come back,” I told him.
He stared longingly after Noelle, ignoring me. “What do you want?”
“Don’t hook up with Noelle. I told you that years ago.”
“I know,” Erik snapped.
I stood on the porch, and sucked my teeth as I rocked back and forth on my heels. “You gonna let me in or what?”
Erik sent me a look before he turned, stalking back into his house. I followed with a chuckle, closing the door behind me.
“Your place is still dark as hell. You need to add some color,” I muttered, following him down the hall. On his walls were pictures of his family. Serena, Laurene, Gigi at various ages in their youth. Some of his old football trophies, college degrees. A big photo of their late grandpa Ben.
Erik entered the kitchen and reached into the fridge. He popped the cap off his beer and slid one across the counter. I caught it, tapped it twice against the edge, and twisted it open. “Serena told you.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, it might have slipped out,” I said, tanking the bottle. “So are we calling a truce, or just an extended timeout?”
“Truce implies we’re on the same side.” He shifted his weight, taking a sip of his beer.
“We always made better partners than rivals. Who else is gonna keep you in line, man?” I took a swig of the bottle. “Who else kept your ass from throwing hands at the country club every time some old-ass man looked at your mom sideways?”
Erik gave me a small smile.
“C’mon,” I goaded him. “You know I’m right.”
His expression furrowed. “You’re still fucking around with Victor?”
“I’m trying to get rid of him,” I stressed. “I learned my lesson the first time.”
“Did you?”
“Maybe we just start over.” I nodded.
He leaned back against the counter, arms folded. “Start over? After what happened?”
“We both did what we thought we had to do.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared into his beer.
“You were right to do it,” I said. “About my dad. I hated you for it…but you were right.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was angry, man. Your dad was outta control. You knew it. You just didn’t want to deal with it.”
“I didn’t know how to deal with it,” I admitted. “I was trying to hold the pieces together. Pretend it wasn’t that bad.”
Erik gave me a long look.
“I appreciate you, Erik. You were the only real friend I had. To actually call things out, to try to help me. I needed that more than ever, just to have someone in my corner.”
“You were my brother.”
“You’re still my brother,” I corrected him.
Erik nodded slowly.
“I know I don’t need your permission,” I said, voice steady, “but I’m asking anyway.”
He looked at me, puzzled.
“I love Serena,” I continued. “And I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve never used her. I’ve never lied to her. And I’d never do anything to hurt her. What we have together… It’s real. I’m not trying to get payback on anybody. I’m just trying to live my life.”
“For some weird reason, she wants you.” Erik’s jaw worked for a long time before he nodded. “You ever hurt her, and it won’t matter what this conversation was. I’ll remind you exactly why we stopped being friends.”
I gave a small smile. “Fair.”
He stared at me a second longer, then nodded.
“You got my blessing, Whitmore. Don’t fuck it up.”
Then he stepped forward and pulled me in for one of those one-armed, back-slapping hugs.
“I did beat your ass,” he muttered.
“No, you didn’t.”
I felt my phone ring, and thinking it was Serena, I rushed hastily to answer it.
“Hello—”
“You got thirty minutes. Bring my money. Don’t make me wait, Miles.”
My stomach turned to stone. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A moment later, I got a text with an address.
Erik stepped closer, reading my face. “Was that…him?”
I slid my phone into my pocket. “Yeah.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I said quickly. “The less people involved the better. I got this.”
He hesitated, then finally nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I was already heading for the door when I dialed Burke.
He picked up on the first ring.
“I got something for you,” I said. “Victor just called. He wants the bag. He told me where to bring it.”
Burke said. “Where?”
I arrived outside at the address sent to me just as Victor was pulling up. He stepped out of the car, coming over to me.
“Miles,” Victor said. “You brought my bag?”
I gave a tight nod, popping the trunk but not touching the duffel. “Right there.”
Victor reached for it, and I closed the top of the trunk, almost taking his hand off. “Whoa, buddy. Calm down.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“We have things to discuss.”
“You’re stalling.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
I needed to delay till Burke could get here and get the pictures he needed. Maybe I could get him to talk, too, and really put the bastard in jail.
“You really think I’m gonna give you back that money just because you asked ? No contract. No explanation. Just vibes?”
Victor’s jaw flexed. “I want the bag, Miles. You either hand it to me like a man”—his hand slid into his coat—“or I take it.”
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I said, raising my palms.
He pulled the gun anyway. A sleek black 9 mm.
“I’m not giving you shit until you tell me the truth.”
Victor cocked his head. “The truth?”
“You’re being investigated,” I said evenly. “You were trying to hide the money with me because people were coming after you. The family of the man you killed wants justice.”
The wind shifted.
A thin thread of smoke curled behind Victor’s shoulder.
I glanced past him. Flames licked the corner of the roof.
“Is that house supposed to be on fire?”
Victor turned around, and he lowered his gun. Then he took off toward the house, gun still in hand.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I shouted.
Burke needed his evidence. I couldn’t let this man go into a burning house.
The second I stepped inside, heat slammed into me like a brick wall.
Smoke curled in thick ribbons along the ceiling. Flames hissed and danced up the walls, devouring velvet curtains and licking the edge of an overturned ornate dinner table. The air was dense, heavy with heat and the sharp sting of burning wood and wine.
That’s when I saw her.
Serena.
Her hair clung to her damp neck, a sheen of sweat glistening across her skin.
She was backed against the mantel, her arm raised defensively as she fought off an older woman in heels and smeared red lipstick who I remembered from the auction, one side of her face streaked with blood, rage carved into every line of her expression.
“Serena!” I shouted, voice raw over the roar of the fire.
She turned.
And in that second, the fight left her body. Shock flickered across her face, her lips parting like she’d seen a ghost.
“Miles?” she breathed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
But before Serena could answer, a gunshot split the room.
The sound cracked through the smoke, and we all ducked instinctively. A vase shattered behind me, spraying porcelain shards and what looked like camera pieces across the floor.
“Enough!” Victor bellowed, gun pointed to the ceiling, smoke drifting from the barrel. His face was slick with sweat now, his eyes wild.
“You brought the fucking bag, now give it to me,” he snarled at me. “Me and Jenese, we need it.”
My eyes darted to the bloodied woman Serena had been fighting. She was crumpled against the sideboard, one heel snapped, a fresh flame searing through the hem of her dress. She wiped blood from her mouth and smirked.
Serena’s voice cut through the flames.
“So he’s your partner?” Her speech was hoarse, but steady. “That’s the reason you wanted the Harrington estate?”
“ She’s the reason we don’t have the estate?” I asked Serena, coughing. It was getting harder to breathe with the smoke.
I didn’t know who this woman was. But Serena did. And that scared me more than anything.
“Serena—” I started, but the house groaned loudly above us. “We need to go,” I said, moving toward her.
Victor snapped his arm up, the muzzle of the gun turning—but not on me.
On Serena.
“No!”
“Stay right fucking there!”
“It’s a fucking fire, man!” I snapped back, edging closer to Serena.
“She stays,” he said. “We’re not done.”
“She’s not part of this,” I growled.
“She’s always been part of this,” Jenese rasped, her voice like sandpaper, cruel and sharp. “She just didn’t know it.”
Serena’s head whipped toward her, eyes blazing. “What are you talking about?”