“He’s your son. How could you expect this of him? You wanted nothing to do with him for most of his life. Now you’re so devoted you can’t let him go?” Even if it means so that he can raise his child? I avoid giving all that away. After all, knowledge gives them power.
“Mason, stop.”
I turn my glare to my brother. “Stop? Stop what? Defending you? Fighting for you? Dragging your ass out of the bed you made for yourself? I can’t do that. I’m your brother, your family—”
“You’re not part of this family—”
“Fuck you, Elijah.” I push up from my chair and grab my brother around the bicep. “We’re done listening to whatever you have to say.”
“Don’t walk away from me, boy.” Eli’s voice shakes with rage. “No one walks away from me.”
“Yeah? What’re you gonna do? Shoot me in a hotel suite in the heart of Las Vegas?”
“There are worse things than getting killed.” His words drip with threat.
“You leave my brother and me the fuck alone, and we’ll keep what we know from the cops.”
“Don’t handle threats well.” Elijah leans forward, his fists balled.
“Well then, this should be good practice.” I drag my brother from the room, refusing to look back or at anyone until I’m out of the suite and into the elevator.
It’s only then I slam my brother against the wall and get into his face. “What the fuck did you do, huh? What did you promise these guys that they’re refusing to let you go?”
He shakes his head, studying the floor as if the tacky carpet will reveal the answer.
“I’ve always been there for you.” I shove him and he doesn’t resist. “You owe me something here. All I’m asking is how the hell you got in so deep.”
The elevator doors ping and an older couple joins us. I move to the opposite wall and try like hell to calm my breathing. I don’t know what happened in that room before I got there, but Drake didn’t leave the same man.
Once in the casino, we head straight out to the valet and wait for him to bring up my truck. I dart my eyes to my brother, who’s acting as if his skull has doubled in weight and keeps his chin down.
I pull out my phone and hit Trix’s contact info. It rings until her voicemail picks up. Shit.
I hit “end” and type out a quick text.
On my way. Stay put. We need to talk.
The valet pulls up with our ride, and I toss him a few bucks and climb in, Drake doing the same while still playing mute.
It’s a silent but tense ride home. I jog up the stairs from my garage, eager to get Trix in my arms. This shit isn’t over with my brother, but at least I have my woman back.
The place is dark. Not at all what I expected. I check the couch then turn to head up to the loft when my phone rings.
I check the caller ID.
“Hey, Trix, where are you?”
“Hey, Mason . . . sorry, I didn’t end up at your house.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m here. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
She clears her throat. “Oh, um . . . about that. I’m with Angel, and Santos agreed to stay with us.”
“What? Trix, just let me come get you. We can—”
“No. Mason, look. I need some time, okay? A . . . a lot has happened, and you’re making decisions for me. I just . . . I need time.”
Is she out of her mind? “Decisions? When it comes to your safety, it’s my job to make decisions.”
“No, it’s not. I uh, I need some time to think.”
“Wait, hold on, is this about me refusing to allow you to continue with this suicide mission you’re on? Or telling you to go with Santos?”
“Please, don’t make this harder. Time is all I’m asking for.”
“How much time?”
Silence stretches between us.
“Trix, I don’t understand. I thought things were good. I thought . . .”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “I have to do this.”
“Do this? Do what?”
“Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“See me around . . . Beatriks, stop.”
“Good-bye, Mase.”
“What?” My pulse pounds in my ears, sucking the breath from my lungs.
“You heard me. Good-bye.”
“No—” Good-bye?
The line goes dead, and I stare at the phone in my hand, not seeing it.
She told me she’d never say good-bye. I’m sure her learning that I dealt drugs to that biker piece of shit of hers was a jagged pill to