“We don’t. We haven’t for a long time.”
The light changed, and I shoved my foot down on the accelerator, vaulting us against the backrests of our seats.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Haven’t you wanted to know who my informant was?” The question hung between us.
“She…no…Anzy wouldn’t.”
“We’ve been talking for years. Pen pals, if you can believe it.”
“How? Why?”
“I don’t know. She started it, and it never stopped. Didn’t matter how many times I told her not to, she’d send another letter. Treated me like her therapist.”
“You know that’s sick, man.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what in the fuck did I just see?”
“The feelings I have didn’t start until the last two years. And I fought it. I buried what I felt. I really thought I had.”
“Then keep doing it.”
I slapped the steering wheel. “I can’t!”
I abruptly pulled the car to the side of the road and parked. The two cars accompanying us did the same.
“I can’t. I tried. It hurts her. It hurts me. She’s in my head, my bones, my blood. Do you get that, man? I don’t know myself without her anymore. Every bright moment I’ve had in years is because of her. I begin where she does. I end when she does. There’s no life for me without her. Do you understand? I can’t do it. I’m mad for her. I’d rather take a bullet to the heart than leave her behind.”
He raised his arms as if in surrender, then punched me hard in the shoulder. “You said you wanted to use her. You said you were only after her loyalty. Is that what this is?”
“That was before. Things change.”
He punched me again, this time in the chest, and I took the pain. I bottled it up and shoved it away because he had every right to want to hit me. It was the same I’d felt for my sister and her now-husband, after the way he’d once abandoned her to suffer.
“You’re my don. You’re my cousin. But I swear.” He took his gun out and rested it on the center console. “You’ll treat her with respect, or I’ll kill you.”
I smirked. “Understood.”
“Good. Now, let’s move.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Not where my little sister is involved. Let’s get Lou back.”
I put the car into drive.
By the time we reached Brielle’s and Ainsley’s apartment, an ambulance was taking off, with a wailing tri-whine in its wake. Police cars blocked the street. Crime scene tape crisscrossed the building entrance, where bullet holes speckled the glass doors, and a small crowd had gathered.
“Boyan!” Tore jumped out of the car before I fully parked. “Boyan! Bee!”
He ran down the street as I signaled to our other two cars, each with five men, to stay behind. It was best if they went unnoticed by the cops.
“That’s my kid,” Tore shouted when two officers blocked his way through. “He’s my kid.”
Where I sauntered through the crowd, Tore bulldozed. By the time I passed the police crime scene perimeter, Tore was hugging Boyan tight with one arm and twisting Brielle’s face left and right with the other. Bruises marked her skin, and a large bandage covered her cheek.
