He sits behind his desk, glasses perched on his nose, typing on a laptop he makes look tiny. He plucks at the keys with his index fingers, and it isn’t until the door has shut and I’m seated in front of him for a solid thirty seconds that he finally pauses and looks up.
“So.”
I spread my palms out on my thighs. “I need your help.”
“I think you need a lot more than that, son.” He closes the laptop with asnick. “I tried to help you, and you threw dirt in my face. How do you think that makes me look?”
I frown. “Bad, I’m guessing.”
“Correct. I have a working relationship with the Webbers that I work hard to maintain. Having someone I recommended to them go rogue—not once buttwice?” He slaps his desk. “I’m of a mind to throw you out and be done with you.”
Fuck. “I was hoping we could come to some sort of agreement. Maybe if they just knew the circumstances, they’d understand–”
“Ain’t no understanding.” Anger flashes across his expression. “But fine. Explain it to me.”
“The guy I was fighting…” I swallow and drop my gaze. “He raped my stepsister, sir. And he took the opportunity before the first fight to throw that in my face.”
“And you couldn’t control yourself,” he finishes.
My mouth gapes. Tyler had said the same thing.
Is this really so fucking hard to understand? My mother married a guy who beat the shit out of her. I’m glad I didn’t get stuck with his last name–Martin–or anything else to do with him. But it did instill in me a need to protect my mother from anything else that could hurt her. As soon as I was big enough…
And I have protected her.
It was instinct to not let the guy who hurt Scarlett get away with anything, especially with her watching.
“Consequences, Cross,” Stanley says slowly.
“Why did they need me to lose so badly?” I force myself to meet his gaze. “Why couldn’t I have won a fight?”
“Because you’re the favorite. Anywhere you go. You have a reputation for winning–and clearly, it’s well deserved. But you weren’t supposed to win, and that’s why you’re in this mess.”
“Please, Stanley, tell me how to get out of it.”
He sighs and settles his weight back in his chair. He folds his hands across his belly and seems to contemplate me. “I’ll make some calls and see what I can do. But the Webbers are loose cannons. I have no leash when it comes to them. We’re acquaintances in this business and nothing more, understand?”
I rise. What I understand is that even a promise of a phone call is throwing me a bone. And at this rate, I’ll take any scrap.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
On my way to the car, my phone goes off like a siren. I pull it out and scan the screen, and my heart fucking stops.
Security System Activated.
I jerk like I’ve been electrocuted and burst into a run. I get into my car and fumble the keys to start it, barely checking mymirrors and if the way is clear. I peel out onto the street and press the pedal to the floor. It’s quiet at this time of morning–no super-early commuters in Shadow Valley–which makes speeding home easy.
Halfway home, my phone chirps.
Security System Deactivated.
Okay. Maybe it was a false alarm. Maybe Tyler took Scarlett out, like I suggested, and they forgot to turn off the system.
My skin crawls. I’m pretty sure I’m just lying to myself at this point.
I slam the car into park in front of the house and rush to the front door.
My stomach immediately turns.
