Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(41)

I watched Philip as he approached me, a shadow looming over the curio-cabinet city.

“Can I call my parents?” I asked softly.

“Of course,” the shadow said.

I hadn’t been sure of his answer. He knew better than to be offended, but at least his answer was resolute. There was a fine line between being helped and being held captive by a man like him.

He held out a simple black phone, and I took it. He remained standing in the living room, watching me. Not leaving, then.

No, not much difference at all.

“Tyler?” My mother. My adoptive mother, one who had never given me a necklace, one who had never really loved me—but she had also clothed me and fed me. She had helped me pick out a dress for my middle school dance.

“No, Mom. It’s me.”

“Oh, honey. They sent us a note.” Her voice cracked. “For ransom.”

My breath caught, and Philip’s gaze sharpened. “How much?” I asked.

“One million dollars.”

God, twice as much as last time. “Is that how much Dad owes them?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sobbing now. “He came back drunk two nights ago. And then last night, he didn’t come back at all. I don’t know where he is or if he’s e-even a-a-live.”

She broke down crying, and I clutched the phone, my eyes burning and my throat tight. My brother missing, now my father. Our family had ripped apart at the seams. And I had fallen into my own rabbit hole, one with mysterious creatures and everything upside down.

“Where’s the drop?” Philip murmured.

All business. Even in the midst of heartbreak, he was a rock—and I was grateful for it now. I asked my mother, and she told me the cross streets of a church deep in the city. Or at least it had once been a church with a large youth center. Budget declining donations meant the only kids nearby were selling drugs.

“St. Mary’s,” she said. “Sunday night. Midnight.”

“Two days,” I whispered to Philip. “At St. Mary’s.”

A strange expression flickered across his face, almost like worry. A second later, it was gone without a trace. Unease tightened my stomach. Nothing made Philip worry.

I spoke into the phone. “Have you called the cops?”

“They said they’d kill him if I do.” A pause, then a whisper of quiet despair, “What will we do?”

They didn’t have that kind of money. I had the faint hope that Philip could give it to me, but how could I ask him for that much? Not even my body was worth that much.

Fifty bucks a hole. Words I’d never forgotten. Philip might value me at more than that, but there was nothing about me worth a million dollars.

“I’ll go to the meeting,” I said quietly, ignoring the way Philip’s eyes narrowed.

My mother made a fretful sound. “Without the money? They could kill you.”

The words were hesitant but not a refusal. She wanted me to go. Someone had to. Someone had to show up empty-handed and possibly be hurt in retaliation. And I was the lesser daughter, the one who wasn’t really hers. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the cops?”

I doubted they would be able to help; even Luke hadn’t pushed the issue. He’d seemed to know we were up against something darker. God, even Philip looked wary—a strange expression on him.

“No,” she said softly. “They would only kill him faster.”

“I’ll call you after.” Hopefully I’d be alive to call.

She sounded tired now, world-weary. “Tell them we can sell the house. The cars. It won’t add up to a million dollars, but it’s everything we have. It will take time, that’s all.”

I hung up after heavy goodbyes, knowing it might be the last time I spoke to her, knowing she’d rather Tyler came back than me, caring about her despite that. And where was my father through all this? Drinking himself into a stupor, probably. Gambling even more.

I put the phone down beside me and looked up—and was startled to see Philip’s fierce expression, determination and something like possessiveness burning in his dark eyes.

“You’re not going,” he said softly, his words like iron.

“He’s my brother.” I ran a hand over my face, bone-deep tired, soul-deep tired of facing down evil—and losing. Always losing. “And we had a deal.”

“Our deal was that I’d give you the money. Not that I’d let you leave.”

My heart seized on those words: let you leave. “I had sex with you. That was the deal.”

A cruel smile. “Once? Twice? Were you keeping count, kitten? Do you have a ledger somewhere with the number of times I made you come?”

Much more than that. I had given him a down payment, in his own words. And I’d paid multiple installments, even if he had pleasured me during all of them. “There isn’t a choice. What good is the money if I can’t give it to them?”

“I’ll go.”

God, how I wanted to agree to that. Let him handle it, like I had when I was a teenager. But I was a grown woman now. This was my responsibility. “One look at you and they’ll know they’ve been found out. They’ll kill Tyler rather than expose themselves.”

He looked away, which meant I was right. “I swore I’d keep you safe. How the f*ck can I let you meet someone who wants to kill me?”