Deep (Chicago Underground #8)(49)

I couldn’t help but flinch. This was what dangerous rocks were like, slippery and sharp. “You didn’t take care of them, you pushed them away.”

He nodded. “I pushed them away, but I made sure they were safe. It’s part of why you were so interested in me from the beginning. Because if I could protect them, then there was hope for you too.”

It was getting harder to breathe. Don’t get a panic attack now, I told myself sternly. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that it’s a lie. I wasn’t loyal to family. Didn’t protect them. At least, not all of them.”

I sucked in a breath. “There was another brother?”

“A half brother. I didn’t find out about him until later, after our parents had passed and I had gotten Rose back from the foster homes.”

“God, Philip. That wasn’t your fault. Whatever happened to him—”

“You have no idea what happened to him,” Philip growled. “I don’t either, because I turned him away. My custody of Rose was already uncertain. Even though I had a legit job, it didn’t pay much, so I had to earn extra on the side so I could bribe the judge.”

“You bribed the judge?”

“Fuck yes, I bribed the judge. You think they’re some kind of holy ground? Fucking pricks, claiming they were acting in her best interests. They were hurting her in that home, in that school. I would have taken her and disappeared if they hadn’t given me custody.”

This is where you come from. This is who you are. The words didn’t only apply to me. They applied to him, and the father who had hurt him, the mother who he believed he’d failed, the sister he had saved. The brother he hadn’t been able to help. Philip had grown up so quickly, scaling up the ranks of the criminal underworld in order to protect his family—in order to protect himself.

My heart squeezed. “Oh Philip.”

“Get dressed,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

I fidgeted, wondering where this dark path had led him. I’d wanted to ask questions, to dig, to uncover what was underneath. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever I had unearthed. “I am dressed.”

“In something warmer. Shoes. Jacket.”

“Oh. Are we…going somewhere?” He just stared at me. Okay, dumb question. “Where are we going?”

“To find who’s pulling the strings. To find my brother.”

“The drop is tomorrow. You said you’d give me the ransom.” I made my voice even, as if I wasn’t pressuring him—even though, God. He knew it was life or death. “Are you still going to?”

“I’ll protect you,” he said fiercely, and the promise of it, the strength, was so alluring I fell into it. His dark gaze held me captive, and I swam around in its depths. And it was only later that I realized he hadn’t answered my question after all. He’d said he would protect me.

He hadn’t said he would save my brother.





Chapter Twenty-Nine

WE ARRIVED AT the docks around six p.m.

I knew where we were because of the smell, faint at first—then a slap in the face when Philip opened the car door. This wasn’t the clean-cut touristy Navy Pier with its ice cream shops and Ferris wheel. This wasn’t even the industrial sector where sweaty laborers would wolf whistle as you walked by.

This was the abandoned section, the one everyone, even city-wise tough guys, knew to avoid. The streets were cracked wide in some places, a river of debris running through it. In other places there were burnt-out shells of cars piled up like crawfish at a bake.

The warehouses sat empty—or so they seemed, with signs too faded to read and heavy chains on wide panels. One of them was charred and bent, as broken as the cars that were stacked beside it. It was jarring to realize that any fire could affect metal this way—nothing was immune to the destruction of dangerous men. Men like Philip.

“Why are we here?” I asked, not leaving the comfort of the sedan. There was a shiny new Rolls Royce and a vintage Shelby in his garages, but he had chosen to drive a nondescript black town car. That was worrying, because it meant we weren’t going on a date or a nice drive in the country. It meant we were going to do something illegal.

“Stay close,” he said, turning to walk away before I could answer.

Shivering, I stepped into the cool night and closed the door behind me. The sound of it reverberated through my bones. The bottom of my sneaker slipped on slick gravel before I righted myself. Philip was almost to the warehouse side door before I caught up with him.

The door swung open, revealing a man in a black T-shirt that stretched over tight muscles and black cargo pants. His eyes were flat and cold. He was muscle. A mercenary.

Behind him I had the impression of tables loaded high and crates stacked in corners. Of other men like him, waiting. They were too far in shadows to see.

The mercenary was similar to Raine in the way he studied me, except this man wasn’t evaluating me for my value—he was evaluating me as a threat. Apparently finding none he turned to Philip. “We’re ready to go.”

“The courthouse?” Philip asked as if confirming.

The man nodded. “He’s working late.”

“Good,” Philip said. “Ella here needs to see this. Wouldn’t want his pristine reputation destroyed by the truth.”