The Probability of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence #4)(18)

I shrug, grabbing some shirts and jeans from the dresser and stuffing them into the bag. “I don’t know… I’ll probably just drive around, stay in hotels for a week or so.” I pause, trying to think of where I could hide that doesn’t include being with my mother or my father—I swore I’d never ask him for help again after the last time I did and he turned me down. There’s only one family member I actually know, my uncle Cole, my dad’s brother who lives in Vegas and who taught my dad how to gamble. I’ve met him a total of twice—once when I was five when my dad when for a little gambling trip and took me with him and once when I was eighteen when I spent a week down in Vegas while my father was on vacation there and wanted me to come visit. But needing my space, I ended up spending more time with my Uncle Cole than him. I haven’t really talked to Cole since then though, except for one or two phone calls and I’m not sure if my uncle will let me stay there or not. He’s not a bad guy, just not the kind of guy you go around asking for favors and help, since he’s more like a teenager than an adult. Plus, I don’t even have his phone number. There is one way to get it, but I’m not sure if I want to go there yet.

Think of something else.

Violet sits on my bed as I hurry around, collecting my cologne and other stuff and tossing them into the bag, trying to ignore her relentless gaze as it tracks my every movement. She’s here. In my room, like I’ve been dreaming about for the last two months. But this isn’t how I wanted it to go down—not under these circumstances.

As I’m headed out of the room to the bathroom to get my toothbrush, her phone buzzes from her pocket. By the time I return, she’s gone pale, like she’s about to throw up. I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but she speaks before I get the chance.

“So you’re just going for a week, right? To wherever you’re going? And then you’re going to come back here?” she asks, fiddling with a leather bracelet on her wrist as she stares at the spot on the floor between our feet.

“I’m not sure….” I zip my bag up and hitch it over my shoulder, rubbing my hand down my face. “This is f*cking bad, isn’t it? I just need to get the hell out of here. Run away somewhere.”

“You can’t run away from it forever, Luke.” There’s an underlying meaning in her tone as her gaze locks with mine and her chest heaves as she struggles to maintain her breathing.

“No, I can’t.” I pause, dropping my bag onto the floor and retrieving my phone from my pocket to do something I really don’t want to do. I text Toverson, the guy that got me into the game. I need to know how bad it is.

Me: I f*cked up.

I expect it to take awhile for him to text me back, but it takes seconds.

Toverson: I know. And I f*cking warned u. God dammit, Luke. What the f*ck were u thinking?

Me: I wasn’t. That was the problem.

Toverson: Where r u now? Your house?

Me: Can’t tell u yet. Not until I know how deep of shit I’m in.

Toverson: Luke I’m sorry, but I can’t get u out of this mess. And warning, Geraldson knows where you live.

A shiver rolls up my spine as I read the text and then moments later there’s a knock on my door, well more like a pounding of fists.

“Dammit,” I curse, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. I start to pace in front of the bed, trying to figure out what the hell to do, but seeing no other alternative. I’m trapped. Violet’s trapped with me. This is so bad.

Another loud knock. Then a bang.

“Who is that?” Violet asks, getting to her feet. “Wait. Is it them?”

I stop pacing and look at her. After all this time pining for her to be in my room again, I’m now wishing she wasn’t. I messed up big time and now there’s going be some heavy consequences. “Stay here,” I order, then go into the living room to look out the peephole. Sure enough Geraldson and some big dude with a shaved head that looks at least double my size are standing out there. Both are packing, guns tucked in their belt, brass knuckles on the big guy’s hand. My head slumps against the door, a sequences of curses flowing from my lips as I ram by fist into the wall until the sheetrock cracks.

“What are we going to do?” Violet comes up behind me. “And quit beating up the wall. It didn’t do anything to you.”

I elevate my head and turn to face her. “We aren’t going to do anything.” I stride across the room and shove her toward the bedroom. “You are going to stay back in here and hide while I talk to them.”

Violet plants her feet firmly to the floor and presses her hands against my chest, refusing to move. “First of all, I really doubt they’re here to talk. And second of all, I don’t need you to protect me from this. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of crazy shit.”

“I’m know you have.” I give her a gentle shove toward the bedroom as I hear someone messing around with the doorknob—I’m betting their trying to pick the lock. “But it doesn’t mean that my f*ck ups have to add to that list.” I start to push her toward the bedroom again when the front door flies open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it and leaving a hole.

“Fuck.” I strategically place myself in front of Violet, pissed at myself for making bad choices and getting her involved. I don’t give a rats ass about myself, but her… well, it’s making me literally sick just thinking about them even so much as touching her.