“Now you tell me where to drop you off.”
He shifts in his seat, leaning against the passenger window, gaping at me. “What? No, no way. I’m not going anywhere but with you.”
I shake my head. “Nah, Jamari. That’s not happening. I’m not heading to the fucking mall. I’m walking into an ambush. I couldn’t protect you. Shit, taking you with me would be a guarantee of your death.”
“I’m not asking you to protect me. H is my friend—no, he’s family. I’m not sitting my ass at home while you go into that place. Alone, too? Nope, that’s not how this is going down. Either we can go together and work on a plan on how we’re going to save Handyou, or I can find a way in there on my own. But I think our chances of everyone surviving would be higher if we work together.” He flinches when I glance at him, but he doesn’t back down. “And technically, it’s not an ambush because there’s no element of surprise and all parties are expecting each other.”
“How the Huntsman hasn’t drowned you in the nearest puddle speaks a lot about that man’s level of self-control,” I growl with more frustration than anger. Thrusting a hand through my curls, I steer the car out onto the street and try to reason with a goddamnteenageragain. “Look, the last thingHwould want is you in harm’s way. Since he’s not here to protect you, that shit falls to me, and I—”
“No offense—and I really mean that because I bet you know fifty-seven different ways to kill a person and dispose of the body. Did you know there’s a whole dark web chat dedicated just to you? No?” he babbles, and if we weren’t discussing his stubbornness in the face of Malachi’s, my, and his impendingdeaths, I’d find it adorable and amusing… And that chat flattering. “Anyway, no offense, but there’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind. I’m in this with or without you. He’s done too much for me and my moms. Ain’t no way his life is on the line and I’m not helping to save it when he’s saved mine.”
The passion in his voice convinces me there’s no point in trying to argue with him. And shit, I got respect for the loyalty he has for Malachi. It only goes to prove what kind of man he is to inspire that kind of devotion. The man I see Malachi as, but he isn’t able to. Refuses to see.
“Fine.” I shoot him a hard glance. “But you follow my every order. If I tell you to jump, you—”
“Ask how high. Got it.”
“Nah, mu’fucka. You get that ass in the air and stay there until I tell you to come down.”
“Wow. Okay. I think the laws of gravity might have a say in that, but I get your point.”
“Good.”
Possible plans of action whirl through my head, and I discard every one of them. If it were just me, I wouldn’t give two fucks about the risk, but with Jamari in my care, moving more cautiously is a must. It’s not just my conscience I have to wrestle with—especially since that would be a really short match considering I don’t have much of a conscience—but he belongs to Malachi. So he’s precious cargo. Which means he’s now mine, too.
“Where’re we going?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“Someplace safe where we can figure out a plan to get our boy back.” I don’t mention we still have a Terminator on our asses.
“Cool.” Pause. Then: “Are you going to call your Seven to meet us wherever ‘someplace safe’ is?”
I frown. “How do you— Know what? Never mind. No.” I shake my head. “It’s bad enough you’re involved in this suicide mission; I’m not dragging them into it, too. This is my mess, and it’s not their responsibility to clean it up.”
“Are you serious?”
I slow the Camaro to a stop at a red light and glance at Jamari. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He mugs me and turns to the window, giving me the back of his head. Then, a few moments later, after the light changes and I pull off, he coughs.
“Permission to speak without the risk of you blowing my head off?”
I snort. “Yeah, kid.”
Though he is causing my trigger finger to itch. He’s a mouthy li’l shit.
“I don’t doubt you love your girls, but you’re being selfish as fuck.”
My foot slams on the brake, causing both of us to jerk forward. My seat belt stretches taut across my chest and horns from other cars blast at me, but I don’t give a fuck about none of that. My attention is solely fixed on the teen sitting next to me. The teen who’s 3.3 seconds from me kicking his disrespectful ass outta the car into moving traffic.
“You care to repeat that?” I calmly ask.
With his eyes wide, the white nearly swallowing the dark brown irises, he shoots a look behind us, but I shake my head.
“They can move the fuck around. I asked you a question. You want to repeat that?”
He swallows. Hard. And nods.
I gradually ease my foot off the brake and move forward because, right now, I’m not in the position to draw attention to myself. But sixteen or not, this kid can get it.
