Swallowing the heat rising in my throat, I force my voice to remain steady.
“Send the address.”
SIX
NIGHTMARE
I’m alreadyinside when she rings the bell. I let it go twice before opening the door, grounding myself. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, and this situation triples it.
Londyn steps in like she owns the place. Black, leather jacket zipped, eyes scanning the room like she’s still on duty. She hasn’t said a word, but I can feel the tension riding her shoulders… and see the moment they ease, just a little, as she walks past me into the kitchen. I follow.
“You still keep this place?”
“Yeah. I kept it after my parents died,” I say grabbing two shot glasses and one of the many bottles of bourbon I keep here.
She looks up, eyes softening. “Shit, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You wouldn’t have. It happened while they were on vacation. Right after I got out of the Army.”
Their deaths wrecked me. I was already in therapy after one of my missions. Then they died in a car crash not long after I came home.
When I sit down, she reaches for my hand… just for a second. Her fingers squeeze, then she snatches it back like touching me burned her.
Peeling off her jacket, she drapes it over the back of the chair. Underneath, she’s wearing a fitted black tee, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of a tattoo I don’t remember. Her body’s lean, strong, but soft in the places that grabs my attention. I can’t help but notice.
We sit across from each other, the air thick with old memories and new tension. Pouring the shots, she downs hers in one gulp, and holds the glass out for another. I knock mine back to catch up, then refill both. This time, I take it slow, letting the burn to settle in.
“What the hell, Malcolm?” she begins. “You’re in the Royal Bastards? Since when?”
“Since after the Army,” I say. “I came back, and there wasn’t much left. Mom and Dad were gone. The club gave me somewhere to land.”
“Somewhere to land’? They’re not a damn halfway house. They’re criminals.”
I laugh under my breath. “Yeah, well, so’s half this city. Depends which side of the badge you’re on.”
She shoots me a hard look. “You think this shit’s funny? Ty could’ve died tonight.”
That hits harder than I expect. Cuts through the bourbon and reminds me why I asked her here in the first place.
Time to switch this shit up, and get some answers.
“Speaking of your brother, why don’t you tell me what happened to him?”
”She sighs heavily, sinking back into her chair. “We already went through this in the car.”
“I need the truth, Lolo. Not the version you gave me in the car. The real one,” I say.
Her defiant eyes lock on mine. “You saw him, Malcolm. You know what he looks like.”
I let the words hang a second before answering.
“Yeah, I know. A junkie who used to be my best friend, and the dead look of a man who won’t make it through the month. You’re his sister. How’d you let it get this bad? How does your brother end up feeding the cops?” I don’t raise my voice, but it’s sharp. I’m not angry at her, but this whole thing is fucking with my head and I’m hanging on by a thread.
Her head snaps up. “Don’t you dare put this on me!”
“Someone’s got to,” I fire back. “You’re out there playing cop while your brother’s out there drowning in the same shit you’re fighting. That doesn’t make sense to me.”
She clenches her jaw, her shoulders squared. “And you’re out there dealing the same shit that’s killing him. So who exactly is the bad guy here, Malcom?”
