“Really? That’d be cool.”
“We could work on your boxing and guitar. Make you well-rounded.”
Yusef laughed, and the sound made my chest ache. When was the last time I’d heard him laugh like that?
I watched Prime in the side mirror. Watched him smile at something Yusef said. Watched the way he seemed genuinely interested in what he was telling him about his music.
When he’s not stalking and threatening women, he plays music.
The thought was unwelcome. Unsettling. Because it was easier to hate him when he was just a villain. When he was just the man working for Meech, forcing me to do things I didn’t want to do.
About an hour into the drive,Yusef’s head drooped against the window. Within minutes, his breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep.
I glanced back at him, my heart squeezing. He looked so young when he slept. So innocent.
“He’s out,” Prime said quietly, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“Yeah. He didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Neither did you.”
I turned to look at him. “What?”
“Your eyes. You’ve been crying.” His voice was matter-of-fact, not prying. Just observing.
I looked away. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be fine with me.”
“I don’t have to be anything with you,” I quipped.
Silence stretched between us, thick and charged. It made me hyperaware of everything. The way his hand rested on the gear shift. The way his cologne filled the car. The way my body responded to his proximity despite my brain screaming at me to stay guarded.
“So what’s your real connection to Meech?” I asked, needing to break whatever this was. “You said you don’t work for him.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you doing this? Why are you forcing me to bring Yusef to see a man who—” I stopped myself, glancing back to make sure Yusef was still asleep.
“His uncle Rashid is a good friend of mine,” Prime said, his eyes on the road. “He asked me to do him a favor. Bring a family back together. That’s it.”
I scoffed. “Family. Right. Because nothing says family like a man who’s been locked up for ten years.”
“You don’t think people can change?”
“I think prison doesn’t make you a better person. It just makes you better at hiding who you really are.”
Prime’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Good. Let him sit with that.
He changed the subject smoothly. “Tell me about you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know.”
“You’ve been stalking me for weeks. I’m sure you know plenty.”
“All I know is your DC life. Where you work, where you live, what you do. But I don’t know you.”
