“I’m not in your circles.”
“What if you could be?” There’s a strange excitement in his eyes. “When I saw you the other day, I realized how much I missed you. How much I miss our family. And then, when you didn’t turn me in… I realized you must miss me, too.”
He’s fucking delusional.
Or high.
Or both.
“I had an idea,” he continues, stepping closer to me. “Of how I can help you.”
“Help me?” I hiss. “What makes you think I need your help?”
“You seen yourself lately? I barely recognized you the other day.” He smirks. “You’re my little brother. You’ll always be my little brother. It’s my job to look out for you.”
“Jaxon—”
“I want you to come work for me,” he cuts me off. “With me.”
“You must be joking.”
A flare of temper shoots through his eyes. “You don’t understand. This new gig I’m running is foolproof, Archer. The money just pours in, hand over fist. More than you could ever need.”
“I don’t need money.”
“Everyone needs money.” He scoffs, as though I’m an idiot. “You want to buy a mansion for Ma and Pa? Done.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. You want some state-of-the-art experimental surgery to fix your hand? Boom.” He snaps again. “You could play baseball again, Archer. You could pitch again.”
I shake my head, trying to shut out his words. They’re too good to be true. I know that deep down. But just the thought — however improbable, however unlikely — that I could potentially get back my dream…
No.
Jaxon takes another step toward me. “You want to impress that rich girl you were always chasing around? Give her the life you know she’s expecting? Easy.” Another snap. “You could finally turn Josephine Valentine into Josephine Reyes.”
My eyes spring open. Fury fills me, infusing my every nerve ending until I’m practically shaking with the force of it. “Stop talking, Jaxon. I mean it.”
“You’ll be set up for life!” he continues, not sensing the danger. “You’ll never have to work again. Never have to struggle again. And we… We can be brothers again.”
“You must be high.”
“I’m not!” he insists, but his pinprick-pupils say otherwise. “I’ve changed. Unlike you. Same old Archer — too proud to ever accept help. No wonder you’re alone. No wonder Ma and Pa couldn’t wait to leave you. No wonder your girl left you, too.”
“Shut up!” I roar, stepping forward and grabbing him by the shirt front. I mange to shake him a few times before he shoves out of my grip. “For once in your life just shut up!”
“What the fuck!” He pushes me back, eyes flashing with temper. “I came here to offer you the chance to make something of yourself… To turn this dead-end life of yours around…”
“I’d rather work as a poor lobsterman for the rest of my life, barely scraping by, than take part in your new business ventures, brother.”
“And why’s that?” Jaxon asks with terrifying softness.
“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You think it’s some big secret that you’re running drugs up and down the coast with that old trawler?” I glare at him so hard, I’m surprised he doesn’t burst into flames. “How long do you think you can keep that up before the cops catch wind? Or before one of your crew turns on you in exchange for a lesser sentence?”
“That will never happen,” he snarls. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know my crew. You don’t know anything.”
“I know, if you’re smart, you’ll turn yourself in. Serve your time. Stop running.”
“Do I look like I’m running?” He shakes his head, stepping closer to me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then you’re an even bigger dumbass than I thought.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s a fact. Plain and simple.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Archer. You’re either with me or you’re against me. I made you a fair offer. I held out my hand to you. And instead of taking it, you spit in my face. So whatever comes next… remember you only have yourself to blame. Remember you’re the one who chose war when he had a chance for peace.”
“What are you going to do, Jaxon? How are you going to hurt me? I have nothing left for you to break.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, little brother.” His eyes drift over my shoulder, to the yellow boat bobbing in its slip. I follow his gaze and see his eyes are lingering on the name plastered across the stern. The bold letters are clearly legible, even in the darkness. “You think you have nothing to lose. You think you’re untouchable. But if you breathe a word about my business to anyone, you won’t be the one who suffers. I promise your precious Josephine will pay the price.”
My heart squeezes tightly. “She’s not my Josephine. She’s not even a part of my life, anymore.”
“Is that so?” A smirk twists his lips. “Strange, then, to name your boat after her.”
“That’s not— I didn’t—“ I shake my head. “You’ve got it all wrong. That girl means nothing to me.”
“You told me that lie once before. I didn’t believe you then. I don’t believe you now.” Jaxon smiles. “Take care, Archer.”
“If you so much as breathe near her, Jaxon,” I call after him. “It’ll be the last thing you do as a free man.”
His laughter carries back to me. He’s nearly out of sight, passing through a distant pool of light where the dock meets the gangway up to the parking lot. “More threats?”
“No. That’s a vow.”
I wait until I’m sure he’s gone before I pull out my cellphone and tap the screen to dial one of my most recent contacts. It rings twice before a familiar voice blasts over the line.
“Hello?”
“I need you to meet me tomorrow morning,” I say, without preamble. “It’s important.”
TWENTY-FIVE
josephine
The velvet is whisper-soft beneath my fingertips. I turn the jewelry box over and over in my hands. I do not open it. Every time I do, the princess-cut diamond nestled within dazzles my eyes, ensnares me like a crow so enamored with a shiny object, it does not see the plate-glass window directly in its flight path.
Such a small, little thing.
Such enormous implications.
It’s the middle of the night. Or, it was. The faint lightening on the eastern horizon tells me it will soon be dawn. From my perch in the boathouse rafters, I watch as slate gray lightens to ash, then to dove. A blush colors the cheeks of morning, staining the sky with the hues of hidden feelings. The pale pinks of infatuation, those faint reds of self-doubt.
I should go inside. Oliver will soon be stirring awake in the guest room down the hall from mine. I wasn’t offended when he chose to sleep there instead of by my side. Honestly, I think we both needed a bit of space after last night’s proposal. A bit of breathing room, to allow the sting of rejection to fade.