Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(34)

“Are you sure? Even a friend. Even someone you thought you could trust.”

“No,” I said, louder, more sure. I wouldn’t have told them about Philip. No one at school would have understood what I went through—or about my strange fascination with a criminal. “I never told a soul.”

“Someone did,” he said, finally turning to face me. The rage in his eyes hit me like a lash. The rest of him was deathly cold. “And we’re going to find out who.”

He brushed past me to the door and held it open.

Everybody got a weak spot.

It sounded wild, like some kind of dark fairy tale. It couldn’t possibly be true. Except that Philip seemed to confirm it with every action—with watching me, with saving me. With keeping me. It was more than sex he wanted from me. It was everything. He wanted all of me, and a man like Philip always got what he wanted.

Nothing about his posture invited me in. He didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t offer any comfort.

He didn’t have anything to give, I realized. Not comfort. Not acceptance. And definitely not love.

He had sharp, shiny diamonds in velvet bags. He had threats and money. He had desire, and that would have to be enough for me, because I had already made the deal with him—and this visit was the signed ink on the contract.





Chapter Twenty-Two

WE HIT THE city limits before I realized what direction we were going in. Who did you tell about me? he’d asked, because that was the link. Whoever knew about us was a suspect now. He would burn down every house to find them. And we were heading toward a very specific house.

“No,” I said. “No way.”

There was no way that Shelly would have told anyone about Philip’s strange fascination with me or my childish crush on him. The only possible use for that information was to hurt us—and she would never do that. God, she’d risked her life to save me when I was a stranger.

Philip didn’t answer. He just stared out the window, light from the streetlamps whipping over his sharp features. He was angry, I realized. No. He was furious.

“Who else?” he asked, low. “Who else would know?”

I had to admit the number of people who could have guessed that about us was slim. It wasn’t even a real relationship, the kind you can catch on camera or read in a diary. It was just wishful thinking, a cruel trick of fate that made two people interested in each other when they both knew a relationship could never work.

Shelly had been there, though. She’d seen my fascination with him—and, apparently, his fascination with me. If anyone could intuit it from our actions and words, it would be her.

“I don’t believe that,” I said. “She would never put me in danger. And definitely not you.”

A short laugh. “You remember she was once an informant for the cops. Who did you think she informed them about?”

“That was different.” Different because the man she loved was a cop. She would have done anything for him. But he would never have put us in danger either, never have worked with the kind of men who would kidnap my brother just to strike at Philip.

He wasn’t listening to me. Instead he was focused on the gun that had appeared in his hand. He was checking that it was loaded and ready to fire, his expression determined and deadly cold.

This was how he must appear to his enemies.

“Stop,” I whispered. “We shouldn’t even be focusing on this. We need to find my brother.”

“Whoever is f*cking with me took your brother. That’s how we find him.”

“Shelly didn’t do this.”

He ignored me and pulled out his cell phone. “Grab a couple guys and meet me someplace.” He rattled off Shelly’s new address by memory.

“Stop,” I said, louder now. Stronger.

He didn’t bother to look over. “If she didn’t do it, she has nothing to be worried about.”

Something inside me snapped. “Doesn’t have anything to be worried about? An armed man is about to burst into her house! Along with other armed men! It’s a home invasion, Philip, so yeah, I think she has something to worry about.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” With your safety, I heard in the silence that followed.

Tears sprang to my eyes. “You’re just like them. All of them. Swinging around your guns, not caring who gets hurt.”

Philip gave me a strange look, and I realized I was visibly shaking. I was shouting too, my words ringing in the silence.

“All right,” he said softly, but it was too late.

Hot bands of panic tightened around my chest. Oh no. Not now. Now here.

Not where he can see me.

I couldn’t control it. I never could. My lungs squeezed and shuddered, desperate for air. My mouth opened, and a horrible wheezing sound came out. Tears blurred my vision.

Lights danced behind my eyes. Don’t pass out.

Philip’s voice pierced the darkness, a hand reaching underwater. “Kitten?” Then I had my head between my legs, facing the floor. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

The calmness of his voice anchored me to the present. I wasn’t tied up in a bathroom. Not held down in a swanky hotel suite. I was safe. Well, as safe as I could be with one of the most powerful criminals in the city.

It took me longer to breathe normally. He rubbed soothing circles across my back.