“That’s why we’re here, right?” Cole drawls. “To find a healthy outlet for the anger.”
Jonah grunts. “You think slicing deviants into ribbons is a healthy outlet.”
Cole grins, his smile razor sharp. “Exactly.”
“What about my parents?” Jules asks softly. “I don’t know that I could…”
“We know,” I say when she trails off, running my hand down her back. “There are two things we could do. One, ruin them financially.”
“I found quite a few tax irregularities,” Si adds.
“Or?” Jules breathes.
My hand stills on her back. “Or you could print a story in the local paper.”
I hear her breath catch in her throat, her body going rigid atop mine.
“I’ve had the story written since I was eighteen,” she confesses quietly. “It was like I needed to get it on paper… but I was never brave enough to hit send.”
“It’s up to you,” I say, my palm resuming its path over the expanse of her back. “We’re with you, whatever you decide to do.”
“They shouldn’t be allowed to hurt more women,” Jules finally says after a while.
“You’re right,” I agree, but let her take the lead.
“If I publish the article exposing them and then my uncle and cousin get killed, it’ll be far too suspicious. It’s one or the other,” she muses.
“Not necessarily,” Marek hums. “Not if they die of natural causes.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“Plenty,” Marek replies. “But let’s start with the facts. Both Caldwells have unfortunate habits.”
“That’s right,” Silas picks up. “Senior loves his ketamine and whiskey. Junior prefers cocaine and hookers.”
I chuckle, seeing the beauty of their suggestions. “It’s only natural for addictions to escalate under stress.”
“So exposé first, and then…” Jules lifts a hand and gestures at my brothers.
“And then Senior gets some fentanyl mixed with his K, and Junior wraps his Beemer around a tree on a drunken whoring rampage,” Logan finishes.
“Sounds good to me,” I say, giving the narrative my blessing. “Little Sapphire?”
Jules is quiet for a minute, and we let her have the peace she needs to work things through in her head. It’s her family, after all, her demons. We handle ours in our own way. She should decide how she handles hers.
“Alright,” she finally says. “I’ll look over what I wrote and send it to my contact at the Gazette.”
“I’ll tip off the IRS,” Jonah says, slapping Silas on the back and nearly knocking him over.
Logan whoops. “Let’s get this party started.”
Jules turns so we’re face-to-face and presses her forehead against mine.
“Thank you,” she says into the diminished space between us.
I bring my hands to the sides of her head and gently run my fingertips over the shells of her ears. “For what, baby?”
“For caring,” she whispers against my lips.
