I keep my tats to places that are rarely seen, as they’re for me, not others. I know my brothers have tattoos too.Bobby fewer than the rest, as his focus is on the numbers and not marking his skin. But he still bears the family mark, just like the rest of us. Even Milly has one, entangled in her sleeve tattoo. You can’t see it unless you know about it and look, and even then it’s hard to find.
Danny likes the feel of the needle on his skin. And while Vinny and I choose pieces that mean something, he chooses what brings pain. The longer the session, the better to clear his mind or some shit.
He might have similar traits to me and the others—dark hair, tall, and same Mediterranean facial structure—but the man is a different breed. He hunts everything in all aspects of his life. Security is in his soul. And he pities no one. Not even the victim.
“What happened?” he asks when Payton finally looks him in the eye.
She swallows hard, as if something is stuck in her throat. But to her credit, she doesn’t cry or break down again. She just looks down at her hands, which keep shaking as she speaks.
“He… he wanted me to perform.”
My entire body tightens as she admits what I saw. I knew it, but hearing it out loud, from her, hits differently. Though I can’t explain it.
“I tried to fight him off,” she croaks, then shakes her head as she clears her throat. “He was too strong.”
“You provoke him?”
“Danny!” I bark at him, all the rage that had just settled a second earlier rising to the surface of my skin.
Her eyes snap to him, and the pain I see in them is enough to break me as she shakes her head again.
Before he can open his mouth again, I growl, “Careful what you ask next.”
His eyes widen a fraction at the hostility in my voice. I’ve never threatened a brother, especially Danny. We might get into tiffs like all boys do, but I’ve never acted like this toward him. Pushing him off the subject before he can figure it out on his own.
I know how he works. I’ve even accepted and played by the rules he likes. But not now. Not with her. He doesn’t get to interrogate her as if she means nothing. As if she had a plot or ploy in any of this. He can do that shit with me or anyone else for all I care. But not her. Never her.
“We’ll talk later,” he mumbles before he goes to his men.
I just pull Payton closer to me, holding her tight to cool my internal rage that our night went from okay to royally fucked up.
“What’s the plan, boss man?” Dante asks as he moves from the couch to stand in front of me.
The plan? I had so many plans for tonight, but all that went to shit.
“Going home.” I nudge Payton, and she rises as if out of a dream.
As she moves away from my space, I unlock the desk drawer and pull out the rest of the books I store in it. Standing, I grab the rest from the drawer, then take the ones off the desk and walk to Danny.
“Look after these for me, will you?” Despite my earlier rage at him, I still trust him. More than anyone else in this room. If my books was on the desk, that means my secure area isn’t that secure. It could have been Carl who pulled them out, or someone else. Either way, I’m not leaving them here.
He takes them with a nod, then looks behind me. I turn to see what pulled his attention and watch as Payton shimmies out of her torn dress, letting it fall to her feet before stepping out of it. She gives it a brief look of disgust, as if it was the reason for what happened. That leaves her standing in the rose vines that rise along her calves toward my black jacket. It covers her just below her top thigh. A fashion statement if there ever was one, but something I know means very little to her.
“Let’s go.” I reach out my hand for her.
With even steps, she meets me at the door and walks with me, hand in hand, out of the room that will no doubt bring her nightmares. And me as well.
The drive home is uneventful. Just what I need. My phone buzzes a few times, but I don’t check it. It’s texts, nothing more. If it were something urgent, I would get a call. Depending on who it is, the ringtone changes—Danny’s way to inform us that we should be on alert.
But no calls come through.
Payton keeps her eyes closed the entire way back. I know she’s not sleeping; her hands keep flexing, and the twitching in her body lets me know she’s waging a war withinherself to try not to think about what happened. But each twitch of her leg as it strikes out at an invisible force tells me the memories are winning.
She’s steady on her feet as she climbs out of my car and walks with me to the elevator, stepping in and taking up minimal space till we arrive at my main floor. She takes a few moments, but eventually she exits and goes into the living room. Like the first night I brought her here, which seems so long ago though it’s only been a few days, she stands and stares at everything. But unlike last time, I doubt she sees anything.
“Be right back,” I murmur softly as I move quickly to my room. I walk into my attached bathroom and turn on the water for the tub, checking the temperature before going to my closet and opening my safe to put my guns away.
I noticed her flinch when the Kings had them. Then again with me tonight. She freezes and cowers in fear at the sight of them. Hearing two go off by her probably sent her already-fragile body into further shock.
