“She’s staying,” Jaxon says. “She’s officially part of our little entourage. We’ll figure out how to deal with her on the news. We aren’t new to this. She’s safe here. Better here with us than guys like you, apparently.”
“I’m trying to do my damn job.”
“Well, you’re going about it the wrong way. You know damn well what would happened if this came out. She’ll be charged. No one gives a fuck about women these days, and it’s wrong. Well, we’re protective of women. We care about our women. We will make sure she gets the justice and peace she deserves.” Grayson’s word have hope flying around in my stomach like a thousand dragonflies. He said, ‘our’ women. Does that mean he considers me his, or does that mean he was just being nice? I’m not going to read into it, no matter how much my heart is skipping every other beat, making it difficult for me to stand upright because my head is dizzy from the lack of blood flowing to my brain.
I’ll be fine.
“You might advocate for the law, Howard, but we advocate for the order. Now, get the fuck out of our house before I throw you out,” Grayson opens the door that leads to the garage and presses the button.
“Tootles, better hope we don’t fucking kill you anyway,” the greaser says, puffing on his cigar.
Officer Howard hurries out the door, and Grayson slams it then locks it behind him. Grayson brackets his hands against the wall and curls his fingers in. His shoulders rise and fall, and I stand there, not knowing what to do. I feel bad that all of that fuss was about me. I didn’t realize how much drama I’d be bringing here with me.
Another naïve notion on my part.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I… I didn’t know how severe things would get. I wasn’t being rational. I just wanted to get away from those two men as fast as possible. I was scared and—”
“Ah, don’t worry ’bout it.” The greaser tugs on his trousers to pull them up. “We’ve all done worse; right, guys?”
“Definitely.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“For sure,” Heaven says, adding a wink while he looks at me.
“I’m Ezekiel. You can call me Zeke. I’m their lawyer. Their clean-up guy. The guy who gets them jobs. I’m their everything, really. And who are you, beautiful?” He reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth, giving my knuckles a kiss. “Aren’t you exquisite?”
Grayson slaps Zeke’s hand away. “No. She’s way too young. She’s eighteen. Yesterday.”
“Legal,” Zeke growls and play bites the air. “All bets are off then.”
I giggle, and Gray narrows his eyes at me, not liking my reaction to Zeke. Well, at least he isn’t put off by my age. Granted, I didn’t try talking to him when I was seventeen either, so there’s that.
“Wait, yesterday was your birthday? And we didn’t do anything? Guys, we need a cake or something. Oh, I’ll make it.” Heaven limps to the kitchen cabinet and starts pulling out the supplies.
“No, it’s fine, really. I need to be on my way, so I don’t get you guys into any more trouble. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years. It’s just another day.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Grayson grumps and pushes off the door. “You go out there, you’re going to get cuffed in less than a day. You’re staying here. End of story. You and I need to talk. Can someone please come get me when Dillon wakes up? He has to be hungry.”
“He can have some of the cake I’m making,” Heaven says, draping a pinky frilly apron around his neck. In black font across the front it says, ‘Kiss the cook.’
“Kids can’t have cake for breakfast,” Grayson argues.
Heaven scoffs and flicks out the whisk he has in his hand. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. Something about being hyper or some shit,” Grayson says.
“That sounds like bullshit and a boring way to live life. The kid is getting cake. He has cancer, for fuck’s sake. He can have the whole damn thing for all I care.” Heaven looks up from the bowl, wide-eyed. “Shit, Grayson. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”
Grayson gives him a sad smile before opening the sliding glass door. “It’s fine. You’re right. He deserves all the cake. I need to be more lenient since he might die.”
“He won’t die—”
“You don’t know that, Zeke. None of us know that.” Grayson heads out the sliding glass door, and I watch as he heads toward the edge of the pool. He’s staring out over the ocean, and it reminds me of the picture he sent me, only the clouds are darker to match his mood.
“Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to bring him down.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” I say, and Zeke raises his brows.
“My chances are slim to none, I take it?” He puffs on the cigar again.
I’m halfway out the door before I stop and look over my shoulder at Zeke. “The only person who stands a chance is Grayson, even if he doesn’t want me.”
“Then he’s an idiot,” Zeke says simply, sitting on the arm of the couch as he smokes his fancy cigar, his gold pinky ring shining in the living room light.
“No, he isn’t. I deceived him. He’s a smart man for keeping me away.” I head outside, sliding the door closed behind me. Owen startles me on the other side, and he closes the curtain so Grayson and I can have privacy.
Not that it matters.
Nothing is going to happen.
I let out a shaky breath from the sudden cold that wraps around me. The fog is hanging light in the air, moving as a curtain across us toward the ocean. It’s so beautiful here. Since it’s so early, the waves aren’t wild and harsh like they were yesterday. There are barely ripples in the water now, and the seagulls must be sleeping since I don’t hear them cawing like the menaces they are.
It’s just us, and the silence is louder than the waves and the damn birds. It’s deafening.
“Hey,” I greet, folding my arms across my chest. “You okay?” I stop a few feet behind him, not wanting to get too close since I know I’m not welcome. He turns his head to the right and pinches his brows together as he keeps his eyes on the sea. His hair is messy, blowing in the wind, and his jawline, god, his jawline has to be made of steel.
I want to reach out and touch him, admire him, but I know when I’m not wanted.
“No, I’m not okay,” he says, tucking his hands in his pockets.
Another brisk chill drifts from the ocean and tickles the tip of my nose, making me sniffle. “Is there anything I can do to help besides leave?” I joke, trying to ease the tension, but it doesn’t work.
He turns his head to me and frowns, his brown eyes so dark I can’t tell where the pupil begins and ends. “That’s another reason why I’m not okay. I don’t want you to go, Finley. I should want you to go because…” He reaches behind his back and scratches his nape. “I have more on my plate than I ever have in my life. I have a kid. A very sick kid. My life is hard enough without adding someone to it who is too damn young for me. You’re barely eighteen. I feel fucking gross knowing we spoke when you were seventeen.” He lifts his hands and looks at them. “Like fucking dirty, Finley, and you know what? That’s your fault.”