“Not that I know of,” Dominic said, “but there’s a lot about my brother I don’t know.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much. We don’t have a lot in common, other than a love of baseball. He’s messed up.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Look. I can’t tell you anything more. I only know he’s obsessed with your father and the Steels. How do you even know about the Spider? Where did you get that card?”
I couldn’t say anything more. I’d already violated Joe’s trust by telling Marjorie about Justin Valente when I’d promised not to. Granted, he’d also told his wife, but still. I wouldn’t violate his trust again.
“None of your business,” was my answer.
“If you want me to help you figure this out, it is my business.”
“No, it’s not. I do want your help, but there are some things I can’t discuss.”
“Have it your way,” he said. “You know how to reach me.”
I headed back into the bar.
“What was that all about?” Talon asked.
“I wanted to know how he’d come to be Marj’s trainer. Whether it was part of the whole thing.”
“And?” Talon said.
“It was. He’s been watching her for a while because Cade has. Probably watching all of us.”
“But only Marj and our mom were his targets for safety?” Talon said. “And Colin? How does that make any sense?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “If your dad is—”
“He’s not,” Ryan said, cutting me off. “He’s dead. I watched my psycho mother put a bullet in his heart.”
“I watched it too, Ry,” Talon said, “but he’s come back to life before.”
“Not possible.” Ryan took a long drink from his glass of wine. “He’s dead. Just like I would be if Ruby hadn’t saved me.”
I nodded. No use arguing the point. Brad Steel was most likely dead. If he wasn’t, we’d find out eventually.
“What do you think?” Ryan asked me.
“About what?”
“Dominic.” Apparently he’d put the issue of his father possibly being alive to rest.
“I don’t get the sense that he’s lying,” I said.
“Me neither. I really should have brought Ruby along. She can sniff out a liar a mile away.”
“I don’t think he’s lying either,” Talon said, “but I also don’t think he’s volunteering any information.”
“I need to talk to Joe,” I said.
Both of the Steels nodded.
What they didn’t know was that I needed to speak to Joe alone. The whole family might know all about Justin Valente and Colin Morse and my father’s involvement with each, but they didn’t know their brother was acquainted with Cade Booker because of his membership in a leather club.
I wasn’t about to divulge that tidbit.
My phone buzzed with a number I didn’t recognize. Since we changed phones every twenty-four hours, I’d learned to pay attention to all callers.
“Yeah?” I said into the phone.
“Bryce,” Marjorie said. “You need to come home. Now.”
Chapter Thirty
Marjorie
Bryce stared at the document I’d handed to him as soon as he walked through the door.
“It’s a payoff,” I said. “It has to be. This Bert Valente must have been Justin’s dad. Your dad paid him off to keep quiet about Justin’s murder.”
Bryce didn’t glance up from the document. “I’m not so sure,” he said.
“What do you think it is, then?”
“It says unspecified merchandise.”
“So? What merchandise could he be talking about? It’s just code. He paid Justin’s dad off not to turn him in for murder.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have to think like my father.”
“Uh…okay.”
“He was a trafficker. To him, people were merchandise.”
My stomach dropped. “You think…”
“You said Colin thinks his father sold him to my father, right? Does he have any proof of that?”
“He must, or he wouldn’t have said it. I guess I forgot to ask him while we were being held captive.” I hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but I did.
“Honey, I’m not blaming you for anything. We need to talk to him. Find out why he thinks that. But right here I think is documentation not of a payoff but of a purchase.”
“You think Justin is alive.”
“I think he was alive then. I don’t know about now.”
“But you said—”
“The memories are fuzzy. I know that. But his lips and skin weren’t blue when we found him by the river. And then he and his family just disappeared.”
Nausea welled in my throat. Bryce’s dad had truly been evil. Not that I’d ever doubted it, but to buy a kid? And what the hell kind of parent would sell a kid?
Ted Morse.
This guy. Bert Valente.
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“Be glad you don’t,” Bryce said. “I am. Every day.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he grabbed me and crushed his lips to mine.
But almost as quickly, he pulled back and pushed me away. I lifted my eyebrows.
“Too much in my head,” he said.
“Let me help, then. Let me be your escape.” I cupped his cheeks and pulled his lips down to mine, opening for him, urging him.
His tongue invaded my mouth, filling me with a raw need. He was taking, escaping—I could feel it in the way he kissed me, as if I were a drug he needed for survival, a salve to take away a crushing pain, a knowledge he wished he could erase from his mind.
I kissed him back, showing him how much I needed him in return. We needed each other.
When would this vicious cycle end? When would we each be free from the ghosts of our past?
Even now, as I reveled in Bryce’s kiss, the scar on my upper thigh itched. Just the thought of the blade hidden in my purse would have calmed it.
But the blade was no longer in my possession. Would never again be in my possession.
Bryce didn’t need a blade to relieve his guilt. He was using my body instead, so I’d do the same.
More. I needed more. More kisses. More Bryce. More everything that only he could give me. If I didn’t have my blade, I still had the most important person in the world to me, the man who was kissing me right now as if his life depended on it.
He deepened the kiss, backing me against the refrigerator where the buzz of its motor vibrated against my back. His cock was hard, and he ground the bulge into my vulva. My pussy throbbed, aching for him to fill me as only he could. We kept kissing, though, grinding against each other, panting and groaning, until he broke the kiss and inhaled sharply.
Bed, I expected him to say. Bed. Now.
Instead, he crushed our mouths together once more. Each kiss was rawer than the last, more feral, more primal, until it was only instinct that guided us, as if we were two animals in a dark forest coming together from a sheer urge.