Did he see me counting it? And if he did, why do I suddenly feel a wave of guilt?
He closes the door behind him again and locks it, walking over to me with the towel held out.
“I thought you might want some warm water on it,” he says, but his tone is off, his fingers clutching the towel so tightly it’s hard for me to get it from him.
I pull it free, unsure what to do with the money I’m still holding, and end up placing it awkwardly on the window ledge behind me as he smooths out the comforter on the bed.
Once I’m dressed, I look over at him, but his eyes are on the floor as he fusses with the cuff of his sweater.
I shove the money into the narrow pocket of my skirt, trying to make it as flat as possible, and hand back the clip that he had it stashed in.
He takes it without a word and walks to the door.
What the hell?Is he seriously not going to say anything to me?
Mutely, I follow him downstairs, uncertain what he expects me to do.
“Are we going to join the game?” I ask.
“I hate Uno. Let’s just leave.”
I blink at him as he goes into the room ahead of me. There’s a chorus of female voices, and I hear his sisters berating him for deciding to go home. I follow him, putting on a bright smile, checking over my appearance to ensure that nothing will give away what we’ve been doing.
Still, Donna looks me up and down in a way that seems assessing, and when I say goodbye to them all, I feel like his sisters’ hugs are genuine, but Donna is stiff in my arms.
Gray says nothing to me as we leave the house, waving goodbye and descending the steps.
“I can drop you back at your place,” he says. I should refuse, given the awkwardness between us, but my feet are killing me, and I shrug.
“Sure, thanks.”
He walks around to the driver’s side and doesn’t wait for me to get in, barely allowing me time to shut the door before he’s driving off at breakneck speed.
The journey to Irving is painful, with wall-to-wall traffic and zero conversation.
I know I should be focused on thawing the frigid air between us or trying to strike up a conversation, but now that lunch is over, my mind is fixed on what’s going to happen tonight.
This could be dangerous. If Monroe isn’t happy with what we pay him, what will he do? Is it likely that he’ll seek retribution, and if so, how? I can’t allow my brother to be hurt again. I’ll find somewhere safe for him to hole up if it comes to that.
But what if Monroe just kills him on the spot? Does that kind of thing really happen?
“Jacqueline?” I look up, amazed to find that we’re outside my apartment. “We’re here,” he says coldly, and I open the door.
“Uh, thanks for the ride,” I say, looking back at him. His jaw is clenched, his mouth set in a hard line, and his fingers have a tight grip on the wheel.
“Thanks for coming with me today. It’ll keep them off my back for a little while.”
“Sure. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“The cash for today is in the trunk.”
My stomach flips at the coldness in his tone, and I shut the door, nausea rising in my throat as I walk to the back of the car and he opens the trunk from inside. There’s a small black bag inside, and I take it out.
As soon as the trunk is shut, the tires screech as he pulls away.
“What in the actual fuck?” I say under my breath as I turn, walking toward the steps of the house. Is he really that pissed off just because I was counting the money? Or did something else happen that I don’t know about?
I don’t have time to psychoanalyze Gray Jones right now. I have to make sure my brothers are prepared for what could happen tonight, and that we have an accurate count of the money we’re handing over.
