A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(50)

My stomach dropped. “That means . . .”

“That means I got the files too. I’m quite aware your roommate and best friend, who is probably going to not be your roommate soon, is also my employee. I’m aware of her name too.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’m aware of Justin’s family connections. I had him placed next to you also because of his other family’s occupation. I thought you’d both bond with each other.”

Right. I was swallowing bark here. “I wasn’t aware you are that active with Katya’s employees.”

“Trace handles the money. I handle our businesses.”

“And your families?” Guess I was going there. I needed to double down. “You’re both on retainer for your families? Is that how it works? You do your legit work during the day and act as your family’s bitches at night? Is that what you guys were doing at my aunt’s—”

“Careful. I won’t be like Trace, and I doubt you’re wearing a wire. Right?”

“I’m asking about your families.”

“Our families are none of your business.” His tone matched mine, becoming serious.

I bristled. “Does Viv know what business your family is in?”

“If you think Viv’s family doesn’t have connections as well, you’re not the jaded PO that I’m assuming my best friend is banging.”

I started for him but caught myself.

He stepped back, his eyes flashing. One of his hands lifted, but his head moved again, going the other way. “I struck a nerve? Or maybe you haven’t screwed yet.”

“I’m thinking that’s none of your business.”

“Trace isn’t just my best friend. He’s my brother. He’s more family to me than my real family, so yes, a certain parole officer who is leading him around and toying with his emotions most definitely is part of my business. In every sense of the word.” His eyes chilled. “Amusing as this conversation has been, I need to impress upon you not to fuck with my best friend anymore. I don’t enjoy him suffering.”

Well, holy fuck.

I took a step back. “Are you kidding me? He’s in my business, in my family’s business, finding me when I’m doing art, and I haven’t done a painting in goddamn years. But I’m fucking with him? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He smirked. “I’m fairly certain you know exactly who I am.”

“You might want to be careful who you’re threatening here.”

“Because you’re a PO?”

“Because while you think you know me, at the end of the day, you have no idea who I actually am.” I lowered my voice.

So did he. “Get out of my face, while I’m not feeling murderous right now.”

I reacted without thinking. That was a threat and, tossing my drink, my hand went for my weapon. I always wore it, or at least most of the time. At the same time, someone screamed, and suddenly someone else was at our side. A hand closed over mine, and goddamn, I knew whose hand that was.

Trace pressed in, keeping my weapon where it was, and he spoke fast. “I don’t know what the fuck you two just got into, but it’s over. Ashton, walk.”

“Tra—”

“Walk!” He didn’t wait. Moving so he was blocking my view from his best friend, his eyes drilled into mine. “I’m going to let go of your hand, and I’m going to back up and give you space. Don’t shoot me.”

He did as he said, his hands in the air a little bit.

I breathed in, reeling that Trace was here.

My hand was tingling.

He stopped two steps back. “You okay?”

I looked away, swallowing over a lump in my throat. “He threatened me.”

“He tends to do that.” He took a step toward me.

I shook my head, moving backward myself.

He stopped. “Okay, okay. I’m not coming any farther, but I suggest we get out of here or move where we don’t have so many eyes on us. People know us here, and there will be talk. I’d like to head off any talk before I get a phone call from my uncle. You hear me?”

He was right.

Goddamn, he was right.

I was still half reeling from what had almost happened.

As if sensing it was okay, Trace moved in. He touched my arm, lightly, and began steering me away. “What happened between you two?”

“He told me to get out of his face while he wasn’t feeling murderous. That’s a threat.”

He cursed under his breath. “Yeah, well, that’s Ashton.”

“You can’t say something like that to someone like me.”

“I’m thinking he’s realizing that, too, right about now.” He let go of my arm but tapped the back of my hand. He jerked his head toward a sidewalk going around the other side of the house. “Who are you here with?”

“My roommate and her boyfriend.”

“Come on.” He was leading the way until we cleared the side of the house and pulled out his keys, going toward the vehicles.

I stopped. “What? No.”

He stopped too. “Jess, you need to listen to me. You should not be here. There are people here who have connections to my family that we don’t want them to know about you. The more you’re here, the more you’ll get on their radar. I know you have threatened and pleaded with me enough to leave you alone, but I’m being totally up front here. I can’t, not here. You cannot be here.”