Attest (Centrifuge Duet Book 2)(29)

Xander stops. His shoulders rise and then drop like he’s just let out a deep breath. He spins to face, malice on his face and hurt in his eyes. “I killed a man for you.”

My hand itches at my side with the desire to touch him. I want to smooth away the crease between his eyes and ease the pain I’ve caused. Unfortunately, there’s no time for that yet. We still need a way out of here, and that means getting Xander back on board.

I need him to come to terms with the fact that I’ve used him

And, I need him to do it quickly.

“I know you did,” I acknowledge his anger before I set him straight. “But, you also killed him for yourself. He helped ruin your life and he would have done it again without blinking. You did what you had to.”

This time I do touch him. I put my arms around his waist and lay my ear on his heart. A steady pulse beats in his chest. It’s comforting and solid. Just like Xander.

“Being good is hard,” I murmur. “But, doing bad things for the right reasons is even harder. It takes real strength to damage your soul to save others.”

Xander’s voice is loud in his chest when he speaks. “Ring Harry.”

I do as I’m told, then hand the phone to Xander. He is expressionless as he waits for any answer.

“Harry Marshall? This is Xander Barrett. Amber said we need to speak.”

Taking hold of Xander’s hand, I guide him back to the front of the shack. I make him another coffee—in a new mug—then beside him with my hand on his thigh while he discusses our next moves with Harry.

The conversation is one-sided, so I spend most of the time observing the changes in Xander’s expression. He moves from angry to furious to vengeful over the duration of the call, and I can imagine what Harry is telling him—about Centrifuge and the cover-up that cost Harry his elderly father’s remaining years, the money that mine and Jax’s fathers have fleeced from unsuspecting investors for a defective drug that ruins lives, and possibly the biggest blow of them all, that the key to taking down the conspiracy is in Belinda’s hands.

It’s a mess and it’s one we have to fix before we leave. I couldn’t live a happy life with this on my conscience if we didn’t.

“I can have my friends bring Jax here.” Xander raises his voice. He seems to be growing a little frustrated. “No, this is happening on my turf. She either comes or she doesn’t. Doesn’t matter to me, because the day after tomorrow, I’m boarding a plane with Amber and the boys and heading for parts unknown. It’s no skin off my nose. The ball is in your court.”

Xander stops speaking. He pushes my hand away and strides to the water’s edge. Once he’s out of earshot, he begins talking again. The wild gestures and frantic pacing back and forth sets my teeth on edge. He doesn’t look like a man who is ready to fight. If anything, he appears to be searching for the easiest way out.

That’s not what I need. I don’t need coddling. I need to see revenge exacted. I need to see everything my family and Jax’s stands for ruined right in front of them. They need to be powerless—not bent, but completely and irreparably broken—before I leave to start my new life.

Xander ends the call. He slips my phone into his back pocket and turns to face the water. He lets his shoulders slump. His posture makes two questions scream for answers in my mind.

Is he going to give us what we need to take down our betrayers?

Or is he going to let my family off scot-free in exchange for our freedom?

*

I’m washing the dinner dishes in the tiny tub when my phone pings. A message pops up on the screen and it does nothing to dull my fears.

HARRY: 11am tomorrow. At the shack.

I wait for another message. One that’s for me. Anything. Something. An indication about which way this is going to end tomorrow. Nothing comes so I wipe my hands and type out a quick response.

ME: I’ll let him know.

Xander comes back into the shack. He smiles benignly at me, then drops his gaze to the phone in my hand. I hold it up so he can see the screen.

“Harry said 11am tomorrow.”

He nods, his smile widening. “Good. I’ll be back later. Got a few calls to make. Shit to organise. Don’t wait up.”

Swiping his own phone from the table, he heads back out the door without another word of explanation. I contemplate following, but quickly decide against it. There’s little I can do to change his mind. My time is better spent shoring up my own options.

Not that there’s many of them. My frustration grows as I discard one idea after the other. I swallow it down as much as I can and change tact, instead concentrating on all the ways that tomorrow can go down. The possibilities are endless, but that gives me hope.

I’ve spent the past two years at the behest of an asshole who loved to pull the rug out from under my feet just because he could. I know how to pivot on the run better than anyone. Manipulation isn’t beneath me should it come to that. Xander may not agree, but we need to nullify Centrifuge and its creators before we leave. My sons are the only heirs to this madness. If we leave my family or Jax’s with even an inkling that they may be able to rebuild in the future, my boys are doomed to a life of running.

It cements my decision. The choice has been eating away at my soul since this morning, but I see no other course of action. If tomorrow goes south, I’ll throw my lot in with the person who gets me and my boys out of here in one piece. It’s survival of the fittest. Do or die. Kill or be killed.