Looking away, he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and fills me in on what happened in the club, though it’s clearly the abridged version. But the only thing I can focus on is that my father went so far as to kill someone that looked like me. The lawyer might think it’s to establish Julian’s men have a type, but I know better.
It’s a promise.
He couldn’t touch me, not yet, but he plans to. There’s no way he planned to break into a closed business to leave a body that they’d be able to obviously tell wasn’t killed there and expect to simply frame them for her murder. I don’t know anything about the guys’ rivalry with Jax, but I have to imagine the man is similar to Julian in the regard of building an empire through blood and the tears of his enemies. No man like that would agree to help my father without a damn good reason, so he likely threw himself back into an obscene amount of debt to gain access to Jax’s resources.
Or Julian’s rival thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to strike a blow against the man he hates. If he manages to kill me while living here, it’ll show that Julian can’t keep his people safe, will prove how vast Jax’s reach is. It’ll make people more likely to choose working for him instead of Julian, more hesitant to cross him.
Layers and layers of deceit, just a brutal game of chess.
Fuck, I’m starting to think like Grave now.
“You doing alright? Want me to make you something?” It’s a blatant change of subject, but one he takes in stride.
“Nah, I just want to crash. I’m fucking exhausted.” His yawn punctuates his statement and I glance back at the laundry, deciding to finish putting it all away in the morning before breakfast.
“Care if I crawl in with you? It’s been weird sleeping alone the last couple of days.”
His answering grin is all male satisfaction. “Don’t even need to ask, beautiful. Come on.”
As soon as we make it a little ways down the hall, there’s a massive crash and a muffled thump. With as nearly soundproof as these rooms are, it’s jarring.
“The hell was that?”
Though everything going on has me nervous, the fact that it came from the direction of Grave’s room has me picking up my step. Without any windows in this place and the tight security, the chances of someone breaking in are honestly pretty slim.
Everett grabs my wrist and gently tugs me to a stop. His mouth is pressed into a grim line, his hard gaze focused on the door down the hall. “Don’t. Not… not right now. I know he’s been tame around you up to this point, but I doubt even you could get through to him when he’s like this.”
Turning back to face him, I narrow my eyes. “You want me to just ignore him and go to sleep like everything’s fine? To pretend he isn’t suffering a few doors down because it might be hard to deal with?”
Stepping into me, Everett crowds me back against the wall, pinning my wrist above my head. His other hand cups my jaw, tilting my chin up to face him. “If he loses control and hurts you, when he finally calms down, he is never going to be able to forgive himself. Can you imagine what that would do to him?”
Swallowing, I hold his stare. Grave values honesty and trust between the two of us to the point of obsession. He promised me that I’d be safe here, that no one would touch me unless I asked. If someone else were to go against that, he’d relish making them suffer for it, but he’d also be upset they turned him into a liar. If he were the one to hurt me though?
He might really snap.
Whatever happened in his past, the hints I’ve picked up between him and the casino made it clear that he hurt somebody pretty badly, likely an old girlfriend. It would explain his hesitancy in going too far, always trying to be controlled around me. If he were to slip up and hurt me, it would trigger those memories in addition to whatever he’s already struggling with.
I don’t want to hurt him, I want to save him; especially from himself.
“Yes,” I whisper, and Everett loosens his hold. “But I don’t think letting him break shit until he tires himself out is the only solution.”
Slipping my hand beneath his shirt, I run my palm over his stomach and up to his chest. “Come with me?” Gently, I rake my nails down his skin before leaving my fingertips tucked inside of his waistband.
“Planned on it,” he purrs, arching his hips into my touch as I smirk.
“As I try to diffuse the situation, I mean. Though yours is a good plan, too.” He starts to protest, before I cut him off. “Trust me to at least know my own limits. I’m not about to let him slit my throat, but I’m also not going to leave him to work through whatever’s going on in his head on his own. Be my backup. We can call it training if it’ll make you feel better; prep me for hostage negotiations.”
“You’re not training to be a cop,” he scoffs, taking a step back.
“No, but I could make a pretty convincing hostage.” With a wink, I slip outside of his reach and finish crossing the distance to Grave’s room.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob though as I wait for him to catch up. His feet drag with obvious reluctance, but he’s likely realized I’m doing this one way or another. Better he be here as a safeguard than have me slip out of bed as soon as he falls asleep and wind up in a dangerous situation alone.
Blowing out a slow breath, I crack the door open. A split second later there’s a loud thump a few inches to the right of my ear. With a shaky hand, I reach up and grip the handle of the knife embedded in the wall, yanking it loose.
Cursing, Everett bands an arm around my waist and tugs me against him before forcing me behind him. “Calm the fuck down, will ‘ya?” he barks.
Placing a hand on his back, I peek my head out to the side of my living shield just as another resounding crash has my heart rate spiking.
