We stood in front of Conrad’s office, in a square of empty space. The door was behind me, with the rest of the warehouse stacked with rows of wooden crates, organized into what felt likea maze. Conrad and Duke were in front of me, along with one guard. The man who’d walked me in was behind me. Either he wasn’t really expecting me to come for her, or he was cockier than I ever realized.
“See, Winder, this organization is my family.Weare a family. I once considered you a son. Just like Duke.” He tipped his head toward Duke, who’d obviously recovered from his guilt, and gave me a nasty smile. “You did what was right by me, so when you wanted to go off on your own, I allowed it. I knew you’d come back home eventually. But instead, imagine my surprise when I hear you’re harboring a fugitive. And not just any fugitive, no, but one who has brought so much destruction to my family.”
Tearing my gaze away from Blaire, I sneered at Conrad. “Spare me the speech. If you thought of me as your son, you would’ve never let me rot away in prison. I was your scapegoat, young and naïve. Don’t worry. I know better now.” I pointed toward Blaire, acting spaced out once more. “Give me Blaire, and I’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll leave town, and you’ll never hear from us again.”
I needed to distract them, to give Blaire enough time to get away. First, I needed to get her attention again. Then, maybe I could get Conrad monologuing enough for her to slip away. Of course, all this depended on how much strength Blaire had left, and if she was mentally prepared to take someone down if it came to it.
Duke scoffed, and Conrad shut him up with a raised hand. “I’d love to believe you, Winder, really, I would. But your girlfriend is too much of a risk, and who would I be if I didn’t show my men there are consequences for actions. We can’t let people like this walk free. If she’d stayed in her lane, and never ventured back into my world, I would’ve let her live her little life. But she didn’t, did she?”
Blaire met my gaze with a quick look. I flashed my eyes to the side, hopefully trying to convey she needed to get away when the chance arose. She barely tipped her chin down in the smallest acknowledgment. Her mask back in place, she wiggled her wrists from the rope that bound them, her guard none the wiser.
I narrowed my eyes at Conrad once more. “I guess I just don’t understand the need for all this. She’s one woman, Conrad. Surely you aren’t afraid of her.”
He should be, but I didn’t add that to the mix. Blaire was almost free from the ropes, moving in tiny increments. I shifted my hip so my gun was in easy access, and kept watch on the lackey out of the corner of my eye.
“Look at it from her perspective,” I continued. “You killed Oliver. She’s been trying to subconsciously avenge his death. But that’s taken care of now. You shouldn’t have anything else to worry about.”
Conrad laughed, a hollow sound that made me sick to my stomach. Even Blaire stopped to look at him from beneath her lashes. “Well, that’s the funny thing, isn’t it? I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she was coming for us, when the blood that night was on her hands.”
I froze, my hand halfway to my gun. I knew if I looked at Blaire right now, I would crumble, and all this would be for nothing. “I’m sorry. What the fuck did you just say?”
I already knew what was coming.
I should’ve known it all along. The clues were all there, laid out in front of me.
He sighed. “I didn’t kill your brother. Never touched the kid. The honor of Oliver’s murder goes to your beloved girlfriend.”
Chapter
Thirty-Three
BLAIRE
“Blaire?”
I opened my eyes expecting to see the warehouse. Instead, I stood in the living room that haunted so many of my dreams.
Following the sound of the voice, I turned to the man standing in the kitchen, the one I had seen bleeding out on this very floor. In fact, he wore the same sweatpants. He stepped forward, a frown contorting his features. His face looked familiar, like a watered-down version of someone else I knew. Several men stood behind him, in various states of inebriation.
“Don’t touch me, Oliver. I mean it,” I snapped.Oliver. This was Oliver. But I already knew that.
“Don’t be fucking dramatic,” he said. “I’m doing this for us. So, when we leave here, we have money to get out of here, go wherever we want.”
“Hey, Oliver, man, we’re going to take off. Hit me up when you’re not busy,” one of the men said.
“Yeah, yeah. I won’t be here too long, Lukas. I’ll shoot you a message later.” Oliver glared at me.
The guys pushed past me and left, leaving the front door ajar.Assholes. They were all junkies, and I didn’t trust them further than I could throw them. I crossed my arms, facing Oliver once more. “Don’t play me for a fool. You’re in his sights now. You’re never leaving. More than that, I don’t think youwantto leave, do you?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snarled.
“I know you smell like a distillery, and you have every day for God knows how long. I know it takes money to fund a habit like that, and we sure as hell don’t have money for it. I doubt you’re asking the precinct for it. Conrad offered you money, and you took it. Who cares if we werethis closeto having enough evidence to take him to court? We have top-shelf booze!” I slammed my mouth shut, realizing I had already said too much.
Oliver closed the distance between us, grabbing my arm hard enough to leave a bruise—except there was already one there from last week, the last time I said too much. “You need to shut your fucking mouth. I’m doing all this for us. Foryou. But do you care? No. You’re an ungrateful little bitch.”
I wound my free arm back, and slapped him across the face. “Go to Hell.”
Oliver held his cheek, a fire lighting in his stormy eyes. “You’ll fucking regret that.”
