I waved her off. “I would rather not talk about Savannah.”
Denim flicked strands of hair off his forehead. “Fair enough, but we want you to be happy. If it weren’t for you when we were kids, our father might’ve crippled us or, worse, killed us from all his beatings. It’s time, big brother, to let us help you. It’s time to stop worrying about us.”
“I will never stop worrying about you. Frankly, if it came down to it, I would die to protect each of you. So please heed my warning.”
I didn’t plead for much. Hell, I wouldn’t even beg for my life if I had a gun to my head, but I would die for my brothers and sister.
8
FALLYN
Flurries floated to the ground as I pulled into the Monarch. It was early afternoon on a Sunday—exactly one week since Duke had hit my truck.
Only a handful of cars were parked in front of the warehouse-style building. If it weren’t for the sign on the brick facade, I would’ve assumed I was about to walk into an Amazon product facility or even one of those data centers with private servers that usually didn’t have any signs for security reasons.
My stomach had been pitching and rolling the entire drive from Weston to Boston. The powers that were within the ATF had approved my undercover assignment, and between them and my dad, they’d built a fictitious profile under the name of Joy Whitlock.
Today was do or die. When I’d spoken to Duke to set up this interview, he’d given me a link to the job application on his website and instructed me to fill it out before I came in for the interview.
I knew he wanted to check out my background, as any employer should before he hired me. Luckily, I waited until the ATF had my profile in place before filling out the application so I didn’t risk the opportunity for the undercover assignment.
If for some reason Duke didn’t hire me, my backup plan was to use that spark Duke and I had in the cemetery to start up a dating relationship, but that was a tall order. According to what we knew about him, he went through women like water.
The swish of the windshield wipers resounded, removing snowflakes that almost melted instantly in the heat blowing out the defroster vents.
I checked myself in the visor mirror and fluffed up my hair then made sure my makeup was perfect, although I hardly wore much on a daily basis. My hazel eyes appeared more gold than green today. Probably because I was wearing a patterned scarf that had streaks of yellow and gold in it.
I dragged a finger lightly over my glossy lips then rubbed them together before sighing. “Hi, my name is Joy Whitlock. I can do this. I will succeed.”
I closed the visor when an SUV with a busted headlight rolled down the deserted street in front of the Monarch.
Nerves had my heart banging against my ribs like the little drummer boy, even more so when Duke climbed out of his vehicle and immediately glanced in my direction.
Yeah, handsome, it’s me. I’ve come to make your life a living hell.Although I’d been silently repeating several mantras all week.He’s forbidden. He’s the enemy. He’s going to prison for a long time.
I had six months at most to pull off this op, regardless of whether I succeeded. My dad felt that the reason we’d lost Jason was because my brother had been inside too long.
Putting on my metaphorical acting hat from high school, I cut the engine, jumped out, and gave myself a silent pep talk, taking the first step toward the handsome gangster.
Gwen had counseled me on what to do—or rather, what she would do. “Let him make the first move. Draw him in. Don’t engage until he does.” Her theory was if I came on too strong, Duke might get suspicious or throw me to the curb like he had with other women in his life.
Duke watched me intently, waiting by his SUV.
The man was sex on a stick. Sharp black suit, white shirt—sans the tie. His thick sandy-brown hair seemed wavier today and, of course, damp from the snowflakes landing on his head.
I will not give in to my desires.
I inhaled deeply and expelled the jitters as best as I could and waved at him as I approached.
He kept his expression blank, sizing me up.
I suddenly felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience in which I was about to step into an alternate reality—lightheaded, nauseated, and shaky.
I tucked my quaking hands into the pockets of my wool coat, my hair blowing in the snowy wind.
“You’re early,” Duke said in a raspy voice that tickled my lady parts. “It’s probably best with the storm coming in.” He sounded like he was worried about me driving in snow.
Odd coming from a cold, calculating man.
