of familiarity until my headache builds into a migraine. And still, all I think about is my brother.
Something isn’t right. Benji isn’t usually distant. He keeps me updated to the point of annoyance. Yet today, alone, he’s already left ten of my calls unanswered and hasn’t responded to a single text.
He’s gotta be in trouble. Big trouble. And I’m having a fucking painful time digesting the possibilities.
It isn’t until mid-afternoon that I’m disturbed from the isolated hell of my thoughts by a light rap on the door. But the prospect of company isn’t welcomed. For the first time in weeks, I’m not excited at the possibility of seeing Penny. Not when I don’t have answers.
“Come in.” I remain on the spare bed, my back against the headboard, the Mac on my thighs.
There’s a rattle of cutlery, then the door creeps open.
It’s not Penny who stands on the other side. It’s Tobias, his tiny frame leaning over to lift a wooden tray of food off the floor, his shoulders taut as he marches inside.
“Do you need help, little man?” I slide my Mac to the mattress.
“No. I can do this.” He keeps his gaze firmly affixed to the rattling glass of juice and the plate of sandwiches, his footsteps cautious until he reaches the bed to dump it at my feet. “It’s a late lunch.”
“I can see that.” I smirk. “Thanks. Did you make it yourself?”
“I helped.” He steps back, crossing his kiddie arms over his tiny chest. “Layla did most of it.”
“Well, thank her for me, okay?”
He keeps his gaze downcast. “Yeah… okay.”
This isn’t the running, giggling kid from this morning. The boy standing in front of me is defensive, with his shoulders pulled back and his brows pinched.
“Is everything all right, Toby?”
His gaze snaps to mine, his eyes set in an exaggerated glare. “Everything’s fine.”
“You sure? You seem agitated.”
He huffs. “I’m just fine.”
I raise my brows and incline my head. “Okay. How about the others? Are they all fine, too?”
His lip curls.
This kid, who’s apparently fine, looks like a fight dog about to attack.
“They’re fine, too,” he grates.
Yeah. Right.
“How ’bout you?” He glares at the swollen side of my face, despising my injury. “Are you fine?”
“I got sucker punched.”
He puffs out his chest, as if pleased. “I know.”
“Decker and I got into a bit of an argument.”
“I know that, too.”
“You saw?”
“No, I heard. Decker punched you because you were hurting Penny.”
I push from the bed and the kid scampers backward, his arms falling to his sides, his aggressive expression transforming to fear.
I raise my hands in peace. “Calm down, little guy. I would never hurt you. Or her.”
“You already did. That’s why Decker hit you.” He stands taller, his face filled with defiance as fear enters his eyes. “You’re just like my father.”
“No. I’m not. I’m nothing like that piece of shit.”
“You lie,” he snarls. “You brought her somewhere she doesn’t want to be to make her do things she doesn’t want to do. Just like him.”
I jerk back, blindsided. Is that what he thinks happened? Is that his justification for us being here? “That’s not what this is, Toby. This isn’t like Greece.”
“It’s exactly like Greece. She’s scared and you hurt her. She doesn’t want to be here and you’re forcing her.”
“It’s not like that.” I keep my hands raised. “I’m trying to protect her. She’s here so we can keep her safe.”
“Safe from what? I thought we were here for family time.”
Fuck. He’s got me there.
“Luca?” He tilts his chin as if victorious. “They told me we were here so I could get to know everyone.” His words drip with saccharin sarcasm.
He knows.
He probably always knew.
I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the son of a sex trafficker.
I sit back on the bed and exhale a heavy breath. “What do you want to know, little man?”
He stares at me, his head still high. He takes his time, giving himself long moments to ponder whatever is going on in that brain of his before he asks, “Why did you hurt her?”
I guess I should be thankful that through all this—after the death of his father and being dragged from his home—his top priority is Penny.
“She was getting in trouble with Torian. I needed to get her out of his office before he snapped.”
“Cole wouldn’t hurt her.”
“You’re right; he wouldn’t,” I lie. “But he was angry, and sometimes when people are angry they say mean things they can’t take back. All I wanted to do was get her out