Sebring (Unfinished Heroes #5)(7)

“That…that right there states plain this is not the business you’re meant to be in,” he declared.

I drew in a breath to speak but Green kept talking.

“Your sister’s not as dumb as your old man. She knows, you lead their soldiers, we’d all march over a cliff for you. She’s got a * tastes like sugar and acid in her veins. Men’d do a lot for sugar but they eventually learn to steer clear of acid since that shit burns and leaves scars that never go away.”

Again, on Green’s comment, I avoided Tommy’s eyes.

This time, Green did too.

He also kept speaking.

“So she gave you to us. You give a shit. You let that show. You treat us like family. Keeps us motivated. Keeps us devoted. But not a single general in an outfit like this should let a soldier go with an, ‘I understand, Eli.’”

I knew that too.

“You want her to put a bullet in your brain?” Tommy asked and Eli looked to him.

“She couldn’t do it. But you’d do it for her, all she had to do was ask.”

“You’re right,” Tommy replied.

“And she’d never ask,” Green returned. “And that’s why we’re all totally f*ckin’ devoted. Just like you,” Green said to Tommy and looked to me. “But we’re not dumb, Liv. All a’ us gotta eat.”

I said nothing.

“You should put a bullet in my brain,” Green whispered.

That was a warning.

I felt Tommy’s eyes come to me.

But I held Green’s.

“I’ll never do that,” I whispered back, hoping he’d take my meaning that he shouldn’t burn any bridges. Instead, he should disappear.

“That means you need to get far away, Liv. This life’s gonna eat you alive.”

I felt Tommy’s intensity.

But I had only one answer for Eli.

“It already has.”

I watched anger flare in Green’s eyes as his mouth went hard.

Tommy tied the bloody towel to Green’s thigh before he shifted, shoving a broad shoulder under Green’s arm to heft him up.

Green grunted.

I took them in, giving them both a nod before I moved quickly to Dad’s desk and grabbed the receiver from the phone.

I hit a button and turned to watch Tommy and Eli make their slow way to the door.

Gill answered on the second ring.

“Bring the car around, will you, Gill?” I requested. “Tommy and Green are on their way.”

“You got it, Liv,” Gill replied and disconnected.

I put the phone back in the cradle and saw the boys had disappeared out the door.

I took a moment to look around my father’s office, not knowing why because I’d memorized every inch of purple damask-papered wall, every etch in the heavy, dark wood, every swirl in the silk rugs that cost so much entire villages in developing countries could live on it for years.

I did this thinking Green was gone in more ways than one. If he was stupid, which I hoped he wasn’t, he’d go to Valenzuela or Sloan. He’d offer his services. He’d offer information.

If that happened, Dad would make the order.

Georgia would have it carried out.

Gill would do the deed.

If he was smart, he’d get out of Denver and find work elsewhere.

Then Dad would forget him and my sister would offer her sugar * to whatever green recruit she’d make promises of living large, drowning in Cristal, f*cking on soft beds covered in greenbacks.

It wouldn’t take long before the fresh one would learn.

We had very few soldiers left and all of them were uneasy.

Except Tommy.

Because of me.

And Gill.

Because of Georgia.

Green was right.

I should get out. I should get away. I should go to Thailand. Bali. Any end to this earth where he wouldn’t find me.

I didn’t because I knew that place didn’t exist.

Vincent Shade had lost nearly everything his father stole, dealt, stabbed, lied, tortured and killed to get.

But there were two pieces in the chess game he played very poorly, a game that just happened to be our livelihoods, pieces I’d learned without a doubt he’d never lose.

Not ever.

His girls.





Chapter Two


She’ll Have Company

Olivia



My phone was ringing as I drove into my garage.

After I turned off the car, I grabbed it and looked at the screen.

I took the call before I shifted out of my white Range Rover Evoque.

“Hello, Pam,” I greeted my real estate agent, moving to the door that led to the house, clutch under my phone arm, my other hand out to hit the button to close the garage door.

“Hey there, Olivia,” Pam replied. “Listen, that couple that looked at your house on Monday, they wanna come back tomorrow.”

I walked to my marble kitchen counter and dropped my clutch to it, responding, “Excellent.”

“They have to come in the evening. Around five thirty. Can you do something after work so they can see the house?”

Could I do something after my work of managing drug dealers—who these days had no drugs to deal—and keeping a variety of books for really not legitimate enterprises my father ran very poorly, considering we barely had any money—as well as laundering said money, how little of it there was?