I just hope it’s enough to save Ty’s life.
The house isquiet when I get in, and I’m exhausted. Locking the door behind me, I kick off my boots, and go straight to Ty’s room. He’s curled on his side, hoodie pulled tight, face half-buried in the pillow. He looks younger like this… softer.Like the older brother who used let me sneak into his room during thunderstorms, not the man tangled up in cartel shit with a target on his back.
I sit on the edge of the bed and shake his shoulder. “Ty. Wake up.”
He stirs, squinting against the lamp on the bedside table, voice raw. “Londyn?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” I hesitate, then say it straight. “We need to talk.”
He props himself up, eyes glassy but focused. “Is it bad?”
I nod. “I was with Malcolm tonight.”
His whole body goes still. “Malcolm? Why would you…?”
“He told me something you need to hear. Something serious.” I pause, then drop it. “His chapter president, Jameson put a hit out on you. It’s not a rumor. It’s real. If you stay in Atlanta, you’re dead.”
For a beat he doesn’t react. Then the shame and fear of the life he chose flickers across his face. “So what do we do?”
“We leave tomorrow,” I say. “I’ve got a list of rehab facilities outside the city. Places that don’t ask questions. We get you as far from Atlanta as we can.”
He nods, rubbing his face like this is a bad dream he’s trying to wake from. “Can we stop by the house first?”
I frown. “What for?”
“I need to see Mom and Dad,” he says. “Say goodbye. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t want to disappear on them again. Not like last time.”
I want to say no. I want to throw him in the car and drive until the city is nothing but a dark line on the horizon. But I see it in his face… the guilt, the need to do something right for a change. He’s not asking for a detour. He’s asking for closure, and I won’t deny him that.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “But it’s gotta be quick. We’re in and out.”
He lies back, eyes already sliding closed. Standing in the doorway, I look at him for a long moment… at how thin his arms are, the hollows under his eyes, the way addiction has carved him down. It’s brutal on the body. The drugs take the color out of a man until he’s a shell of the person he used to be.
Ty’s asleep before I even click the door shut, and as I walk down the stairs, the weight of it all presses down on me. Jameson’s threat, Ty’s addiction, and getting him somewhere safe.
Back in my room, I lay on my bed, Malcolm’s face the first thing coming to mind. He’s been in my head since I left him standing in his kitchen. Intense eyes, staring into my soul. The passionate way he spoke about his convictions. I don’t want to think about him, I want to focus on my brother. But the thoughts come anyway, soft and dangerous… what would it feel like to kiss him?
It’s stupid and hot and impossible. I imagine the brush of his mouth against mine, easy, consuming. How my pulse would jack up like I’d just run a mile. I imagine him close enough that I could taste whiskey, smoke, and no regrets. The idea causes a slight ache in my pussy.
If we’d reconnected under different circumstances… no club colors, no threats, no law between us, maybe I’d find out. Maybe I’d let myself.
But I’m a cop. He’s a Royal Bastard. There’s no walking that line. No matter how much my body argues, there’s no room for this. Not while my badge is on my chest and that kutte is on his back. Not while my brother needs me. I’ll have to remember to thank Malcolm for the warning, but that’s where it’ll end.
I shove the thoughts away and focus on Ty. Pulling the folder from the top drawer, I scan the list of rehab facilities Ifound earlier. I search for the places farthest from Atlanta, the ones where people disappear and rebuild. My thumb scrolls past names until I find the ones that sound anonymous enough to work.
I start dialing. The first number rings dead. The next connection makes me hold my breath until a tired voice picks up. I explain quick, give the details they need, ask the hard questions: intake time, anonymity, transport. I mark yes or no and move on. One call after another, the city shrinking with every number I cross off.
By the time I hang up the last call, there’s a plan… thin, but real. Tomorrow we move. Tonight I let sleeping dogs lie and go to sleep knowing what I have to do. For now, my brother comes first.
EIGHT
NIGHTMARE
I shoot up in bed,breath ragged, shirt soaked through. My heart’s pounding, and for a second I’m not sure where I am. Then I see the ceiling fan, the framed photos on the wall, the hard wood floors. I’m home.
Well… what used to be home. Now I just come here to get away from the club. Sometimes the noise is too much after a rough night with the nightmares. Most of the brothers have a place to disappear if they need to, Mav included.
My parents left me this house and a solid inheritance. I won’t need anything for the rest of my life. But I’d trade it all to have them back. I was still trying to get my head straight after the Army, and then they were gone. No warning. No goodbye.
