"To show you what you're dealing with. You think the Dark Saints are this fun little gang of rascals? Some punk kids who like to get in bar fights and spray paint walls?" Marlow sneers. "This ain't a game, kid. These guys aren't hosting illegal poker tournaments and betting on fucking horses, this is some real shit. The Saints are in it all - corruption, guns, murder, drugs, all of it."
He slams the folder shut and steps towards me, making me shiver as I back into the side of the Charger.
"I'm showing you this because I'd like your help."
I shake my head. "No, I don't want any part of-"
"I don't actually care what you want, Ms. Hammond."
"Excuse me?"
"Arson is a serious fucking charge. Arson means no more graduate program, no law program, none of it." He smiles wickedly. "Plus, a family like yours? With the prestige they hold over there in Shelter Harbor?" He shakes his head, making tsking noises. "Your dad's a reverend, right?"
"What do you want," I hiss through clenched teeth.
"Information."
His hand goes to the pocket of his drab trench coat and comes back out. He places the flip-phone on the hood of Connor's car.
"I want to know what's going on up in that little bachelor pad of his. I want to know when he leaves, or when you do, or when you both decide you're done playing house and decide to move locations."
"I'm not going to spy-"
"You are, actually," he hisses. "You're painted into a corner, missy. Play nice, and you get to walk away from this. I don't give a shit about your little lover's quarrel and some shitty death trap of a practice space burning down. No one got hurt, and I fuckin' hate modern rock music. What I do care about is nailing Roarke, because he's the key to the rest of the Saints. Understand?"
Marlow's jaw clenches as he stares me down, his hand still on the burner phone.
"You help out, I forget about your little stunt. Do we understand each other?"
I swallow. Slowly, I nod.
Marlow smiles thinly. "Have a good night with your friend, Ms. Hammond. Think about what I'm saying to you. Listen to what I'm saying to you. Whatever you think this is? Playing house with the mobster? Whatever little phase you think you're going through?"
I can feel my teeth clench, something that feels like anger rising up inside.
Marlow laughs. "You think you're the first girl who thinks he's hot shit?" He grins. "Ask him about Sheila."
There's ice in my veins - a cold chill that sinks into me.
Agent Marlow smiles grimly. "Go ask him about the last girl who fell for his whole bad boy shtick, and we'll see if you aren't calling me the second you can ready to spill everything."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Connor
She's quiet when she comes back up, only giving me the most vague and cursory of answers when I ask how it went. I could press, but I don't.
Her family shit is her own thing, and that's not what this is. What happened tonight was just … shit, I don't even know.
It was an eventuality. It was something bound to happen - the final boiling point whistle of a kettle or something. It's like me fucking her was always going to happen, since the moment she pulled me around in that bar and kissed me.
But the important thing to remind myself is that that is all it is. It's what I remind myself ten more times that night, lying on my couch listening to her fall asleep later.
Listening to the pounding of my own heart.
I've been playing it cool after what happened earlier - crashing here on the couch even though all I want is to go to that bed, slip in behind her and pull her close.
Well, that and fuck her a third time, because I've still got that in me, and then pull her close.
But that's off the table. I've crossed too many lines already here, what with fucking the witness. Actually sleeping together is a line I won't go over.
And at some point, soon, I still need to figure out what the fuck I'm going to say to Liam and Aela about this. At some point, us pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist while we play hide-out in my loft has to end.
This is going to come to a head at some point, one way or another. And when it does and everyone I know and care about - who I've been lying to - realizes I've got some college girl living with me who watched me shoot a guy, well …
Shit's going to hit the fan in a big way.
In the meantime, here I am still wanting her. Here I am still wanting to cross the distance between this couch and that bed and make her mine entirely.
But I can't, so I close my eyes and try and grab at sleep instead.
It's a tough one to catch.
I wake up early.
Too early, actually, and I frown as I realize it's still dark outside. My eyes dart around the loft, trying to figure out why I'm up as I slowly sit upright on the couch. And that's when I glance down to see my phone - silent, but lighting up with a call from Liam.
Shit. Forgot I turned the ringer off.
I shake away the last of sleep and snatch the phone up, swiping it open.
"Jesus, man, it's fucking four in the morn-"
"Conner!"
My brother roars my name, instantly grabbing my full attention. I'm up instantly.
"What's going on."
"Dude answer your fucking phone!"
"Sorry," I hiss. "Had it on silent. "What's-"
"You need to get the fuck out of there; now!"
I freeze. "My place?"
"Yes!" Liam bellows. I hear him starting the engine of a car, his voice harried. "Ukrainians were just spotted in huge numbers rolling through Southie."
"Oh fuck."
"Yeah, no shit," he spits. "Aela's calling a meeting right now. Looks like a war's brewing."
I jump from the couch, glancing around for my pants. "Okay, sit tight, I'm on my-"
"No, Con, you're not listening!" Liam's voice twists with emotion. "Dude, you've been made. They're heading right for you."
Something cold slices through me as I yank my pants on. I stride to one of the big factory windows, and pull back the corner of the heavy shade, glancing out at the barely cresting light on the broken parking lot outside.
"No other spot they could be headed for, man," Liam says tightly, on speakerphone now with the sound of an engine roaring in the background. "They're gunning right fucking for you. I'm on the way and I've got people getting their asses to you right now, but you need to get the fuck out of there."
My younger brother's voice cracks a little.
"Get the fuck out of there, brother."
I'm already moving to my bookshelf, pulling it back from the wall on the hidden hinge and grabbing the array of guns off the wall behind it. Three Beretta pistols, a shotgun, my Colt .45 and a shitload of ammunition get dumped into the duffel bag in my hands in a matter of seconds.
"I'm gone. I'll be out of here in two minutes."
"Good," Liam says darkly, a horn blaring in the background as I'm sure he blows past someone or through a light.
"You know where-"
"I'm going to the beach house."
"Yeah, good thought."
And I'm about to tell him. In all honesty, I'm about to just tell him about Sierra, because at this point, why am I not telling my brother about her?
But he swears at something on the road, there's another horn blast, and I'm right back in the moment.
And the moment screams for me to fucking act right now. Talking can come later after I get us the fuck out of here and hopefully before the Ukrainian mob comes crashing through my fucking door.
"I'll call you from the road."
"Get going man," Liam says tightly.
I nod, and I'm pulling the phone away from my ear to hang up when I hear his voice again.
"Hey, and Con?"
"Yeah?"
"Be safe, man."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sierra
I wake up with the gasp frozen in my throat and my heart jumping out of my mouth. My senses scream at the sudden switch to "on", and I bolt up in bed to see Connor looming over me.
"Get up, now," he hisses, pushing clothes into my stunned hands.
I frown at the semi-light coming in around the curtains over the windows. "What time is it?"
"Ukrainians," he says tightly, already whirling and shoving things into the bag slung over one shoulder.
"What?"
Connor whirls, his eyes blazing at me. "The big scary guys from the bar who saw you? They're coming here. Right now."
My gut drops.
"Here?"
Fear lances through me, and I can feel my heart start to pound inside my chest as it starts to take over.
"I don't know how, but we need to leave, now."
"Okay, okay," I say numbly, fumbling out of bed. "Hang on-"
"Now, princess!" he barks, sending me jumping out of bed and yanking my old clothes on.
"Okay! I'm sorry I'm not a fucking expert at getting out of places because the mob is coming to kill me."
"I know you're not."
I jump at the sound of his voice in my ear, his hand on my hip.
"Look at me."
I swallow, taking a breath before I turn and glance up into his eyes.
"We're going to get out of here, I just need you to do exactly what I say, understand?"
I nod.
"Do you trust me?"
I'm not sure.
Especially after the things I saw last night in Agent Marlow's file, but there's no time for thinking right now, so I nod instead.
"Good. Let's move, now."