A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(34)

There were houses around us. I added, “Keep going.”

“How far?”

“Just keep going.”

Once we were out of the town, past houses, and the road looked desolate, I told her to pull over.

We both did.

Ashton was out of the car in a heartbeat. He went up to her side, opened the door, and motioned for her to get out. She did. He gave my vehicle a nod, and slowly, reluctantly, she came toward my SUV. I got out and went around the front, giving her a nod to take my passenger seat. She did, giving the other SUV a lingering look as I got behind the wheel.

“Get in. Those kids don’t know you either. They’ll take cues from your aunt, and your aunt isn’t dumb. She’ll do as she’s told.”

She looked at me, her eyes flashing before her mouth flattened into a hard line, and she swung up into the SUV. She shut the door, yanking on it harder than was necessary.

My phone buzzed.

D: All good. Heading back now.

Me: Drive her car to the cleaners, then return it to her place.

D: Will do.

“What now?” She’d been watching me text.

Ashton’s SUV was already gone.

I texted Ashton.

Me: Take them to the family safe house.

Ashton: She’s saying they had a shelter lined up for them.

Me: I don’t care.

Ashton: Ten-four, buddy. Might want to turn your phone off. Uncle Steph is going to want to know where the uncle is.

Me: I’ll be in touch later today.

He knew what that meant, and after that, I powered down the phone, then headed off.

Once we got to the city, Jess and I were going to have a way more in-depth conversation.

I shifted the car into drive and started off. “You can sleep while I drive us back.”

“What about my aunt?”

“We’ll talk when we get there.”

“Tristian—”

“Trace.”

“What?”

“I hate the name Tristian. Call me Trace.”

She didn’t respond. I only heard her let out a soft sigh, but a few minutes later, she was sleeping. She must’ve needed it.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


JESS


“Trace” took me to a downtown high-rise. I woke up as we pulled into a parking lot. When he got out of the SUV, I waited. I couldn’t bring myself to move, not yet. The night’s events kept replaying over in my head. Over and over again.

What my aunt did, which was understandable.

It was not understandable that I helped cover it up. I didn’t report her, and that was on me. I was an accessory now.

My whole life would change from this day on. I knew it. I felt it. It was in the pit of my stomach, but as my body filled up with lead, there was a different sensation in me, and I couldn’t place it. I didn’t want to place it. It went against every moral value ingrained inside of me, why I became a parole officer.

I was so beyond fucked that I couldn’t comprehend it, and I knew that I would start losing focus.

The days would blend. The lines were blurred now and would continue to be blurred. All this would keep happening, every step I took after I walked out of that house, until the day I would no longer recognize myself, but still.

I lifted my head up and saw Trace watching me from outside the SUV. He’d stopped, but he hadn’t said anything. He was just waiting for me, and there was a look of understanding there, like he knew exactly what was going on inside of me.

A part of me liked that. A part of me hated that.

I loathed it, and yet I needed it. All at the same time, and that didn’t make me hate him, but it sure as hell made me despise myself.

The hard part of living in a world where it was either wrong or right was that you forgot that being human meant you were never only on one side of that equation. What did you do then? Apparently, what I did. You chose, and you tried to survive your choice.

With almost numb hands, a numb body, I unclipped my seat belt and got out.

Trace turned, and I followed.

He took me to an elevator.

When it arrived and we stepped inside, a voice came over the intercom. “Good morning, Mr. West. Is there anything you’d like?”

Trace studied me before hitting a button. “No, thank you.”

“Have a good rest of the day, Mr. West.”

“You as well, Gervin.”

It wasn’t long before we arrived. I was no longer expecting anything, so I wasn’t surprised when the elevators opened onto his apartment. It covered its own floor, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that ran the entire apartment. He had a waterfall gradient island. A gas fireplace that was already running for him. His place looked like an industrial art gallery. It was chic, expensive, and manly, all at the same time.

“You slept the whole way back, but would you like a coffee? Or would you like to sleep more?”

I ignored him, walking past the living room and all the way to the wall. I could easily imagine that I was able to see the whole of Manhattan, we were that high up. The water was visible on two sides of his place, but I looked straight down. The street was so far beneath us.

I lifted my hands, fingers spread out, and touched my palms to the glass.

If I pushed hard enough, would it shatter? Would I fall?

A better question, was that what I wanted?