Jericho moved to his desk, dropping into his chair, before turning his full attention to Shiloh, his deep brown eyes not unkind. “So, Shiloh the spy. What is it your brother wants from me?”
Shiloh found the drawstring on his hoodie, twisting it between his fingers as he stared at his lap. “He needs you out of the way.”
“Out of the way of what?” Jericho asked, leaning back and frowning.
Shiloh flicked his gaze back up to Jericho briefly. “Micah wants to expand his business here. He thinks with the 4Loco crew disbanded, the territory is up for grabs. He thinks you’re what’s standing in his way. He thinks getting rid of you will scare the neighborhood into accepting the new regime.”
“Why would he ever think that would work?” Jericho asked, tone almost bored.
Shiloh shrugged. “He’s done it in other places. Micah always gets what he wants.”
“If he’s got a problem with me, he needs to keep it with me. He needs to leave my kids alone.”
“He went after Levi because he was the easiest,” Shiloh said, eyes darting to Levi, hurrying to add, “Access wise, I mean. Working the graveyard shift at a convenience store made him a target even I could take out.” He flushed. “Theoretically, at least.”
“Why didyouhave to kill Levi? Doesn’t he have people for that?” Jericho asked, frowning.
Shiloh sighed. “I don’t think it was so much about killing him as it was forcing me to do something I would hate. If I managedto do it and Levi died, great. One more thing for him to threaten me with. But if I failed, he had another excuse to beat the shit out of me. Which he did.”
Shiloh waved vaguely at his own face, to the swollen flesh and numerous bruises.
“Can’t we just kill him?” Levi snapped. “He definitely meets the code. Look at Shiloh’s face.” To Shiloh, he said, “Show him the bruises on your stomach.”
Shiloh looked at Levi in horror. “What? No. I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Levi looked at him with…something. Pity, maybe. “You shouldn’t be used to it. Show him,” Levi insisted, giving him a little push. “Please.”
Shiloh swallowed loudly, then stood, sliding up his t-shirt and hoodie in one go, doing a slow spin so he wouldn’t have to do it again. When he was back where he started, the muscle in Jericho’s jaw ticked, pulsing like a beating heart.
“What did he use?” Jericho asked, his voice a terrifying low rasp.
Shiloh dropped down onto the couch, this time drawing his knees to his chest, Jericho’s sofa be damned. “It doesn’t matter,” he said faintly.
“I’d like to know,” Jericho said, his tone soft, almost like he was talking to a child.
Shiloh let his head fall back, trying to gather himself. Did they have any idea how embarrassing this was? “My brother used to be a baseball player.”
Levi and Jericho swapped glances. “What are you saying?”
“Sometimes, he still likes to play,” Shiloh managed.
“Those marks didn’t come from a bat,” Levi said. “No way.”
Levi was right. They didn’t. Tears pricked at his eyes. He tried to speak but the words didn’t come. All he could hear was Micah’s crew laughing as Micah adjusted his stance, then waitedfor the ball to release, staring at his target—Shiloh—with laser focus.
Micah always swung for the fences.
“The baseballs,” Jericho said, understanding dawning.
Shiloh’s eyes darted to Levi, watching him put the pieces together. “Wait. Are you saying he hit you with baseballs?”
Levi’s fury was instantaneous. He went to his feet, tugging up Shiloh’s hoodie again, his fingers dancing over the marks like he had to see them again to verify Jericho’s words.
“It looks worse than it is,” Shiloh cried, yanking the fabric from Levi and dragging it back down, making himself as small as possible. He sounded unconvincing even to himself. “Like I said, I’m…I’m used to it.”
“Used to it,” Levi parroted, aghast.
What weren’t they understanding? Micah had spent years perfecting ways to hurt Shiloh, physically, mentally, emotionally. When it came to making him suffer, his eldest brother was an expert. It wasn’t the physical pain of the roof that really fucked Shiloh up. It was the psychological warfare. The threat of Shiloh ending up on the pavement below, head cracked like an egg, blood and brains flowing towards the gutter.
