Page 27 of Bound in Ashes

“So you’re letting us stay?” I asked.

“I didn’t say all that, Jackson Thorne.”

I put the case of water down, then pulled out one of the kitchen table chairs.

I rested my elbows on the table, then leaned forward, my gaze locked on Levi’s.

He didn’t blink.

I didn’t expect him to.

I didn’t blink, either. “What’s the game here?”

“No game, son,” he said.

“So why are you pretending you’re gonna let her walk out of here?” I asked.

“Not her I’m worried about,” he countered.

“Fair enough,” I responded, shrugging. “But I don’t mean Asia or anyone else any harm,” I said.

“Then what do you mean?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Then I decided that the best path was the truth, or as much as I could allow of it.

“We found ourselves in a tight spot. I made her a promise. I keep my promises,” I said.

“That simple?”

“Simple in the way most things should be. I know you’re smart enough to know that we are in a firestorm of shit,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s about the measure of it.”

“Even still, my word means something. I gave it to Asia. I followed through. I want to make sure she and the rest of them are okay.”

“And what’s in it for you?”

“I’ve always had a soft heart for lost causes,” I said.

That got a smile out of Levi, who took a sip of his coffee, then studied me. “Asia’s not that. That girl has the heart of a lion.”

“I’m learning that,” I said.

He put the cup down, and turned it in small circles, the chipped ceramic scraping against the pine tabletop.

“I know your type,” he said.

“And what type is that?” I asked.

He stilled, his cup scraping against the table one final time. It was the last sound before quiet settled in, and Levi locked his eyes—bloodshot, tired, but sharp as a blade—on mine. “Military. Spec-ops more than likely. Comfortable with violence. Might even like it. So yeah, I know your type. What you can do. If it wasn’t for Kathleen, I’d be one of you. But that girl—she is the last thing that I would even consider calling family. You screw with her, you’re gonna have to deal with me.”

“If you think you know who I am, does threatening me seem like the smartest approach?”

“Like I said, I know your type. You appreciate the directness. And that wasn’t a threat, son. It was a bonafide guarantee,” he said.

The old man thought I would hurt her.

That I was dangerous.