We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,42

their child slowly killing himself anymore. At least I wouldn’t live in the constant fear of walking into his bedroom, finding him overdosed on the carpet.

After looking the other way on petty misdemeanors for years, when the police pulled him over with a trunk full of narcotics, they’d finally had enough. They threw the book at him.

Drug possession with intent to distribute.

A felony.

At nineteen, he was tried as an adult, slapped with a $20,000 fine (paid by Jo’s parents, since mine couldn’t afford it), and sent to state prison on a three year sentence. With good behavior, Jax shaved it down to two before getting released on parole.

I never visited him while he was in there. I couldn’t bring myself to. I was too angry at him for throwing his life away, for fragmenting our family beyond repair. For making Ma cry into her pillow every night; for making Pa grow still and silent under the weight of his own grief.

Not that they’d ever hold it against him. They still loved their son. Every Sunday, they made the long drive to Cedar-Junction, two hours round-trip just for a few shared moments behind plexiglass. They’d come home with red-rimmed eyes and tell me how well he was doing, how healthy he looked — proud of him in the way only parents can manage, even after their kid fucks up immeasurably.

Jax was different, when he came home two months ago. Older. Colder. And clean. His eyes were clear. His temperament was even. For the first time since I was ten years old… I thought I might get my big brother back.

I should’ve known it would never last.

“Jaxon has a lot of product to move,” Rico tells me bluntly, snapping my focus back to the present. “So far, he’s not holding up his end of that bargain.”

“My brother isn’t dealing anymore. He’s sober. He served his time. He’s trying to start over.”

“Is that what he told you?” Rico shakes his head. “Then he’s a liar. Someone with his ties to this world can’t just step away from it. Not ever.”

“You make Jax sound like some one-man drug cartel, not a small-time dealer.”

“Give credit where it’s due. Before he got busted, your brother built his own little empire up here. At nineteen, he was moving so many pills, we heard about him out in Springfield.” Rico’s pupils are pinpricks. For the first time, it occurs to me that he might be high. “The Kings have been trying to expand north for years. But this area is a hard nut to crack from the outside. We need someone with a foot in the door.”

Enter: Jaxon.

I shake my head in disbelief. “A handful of pot-smoking, pill-popping rich kids can’t possibly be worth all this effort. I’d think it’s hardly worth your time.”

“See, that’s where you’d be wrong. These rich kids you speak of, the ones with bottomless wallets and access to Daddy’s credit card… they’re the biggest untapped resource this side of Boston. But if someone like me or Barboza tries to sell to them, they’re more likely to call ICE on our asses than actually buy what we have to offer.”

“So you think Jax is going to be… what? Your liaison to the trust fund set?”

“They know your brother. They trust your brother. He’s not some homeboy off the street. If he tells them to try the latest, greatest designer party drug, they’ll fork over any amount of cash to snort it up their noses.” Rico pauses, staring at me. “If your brother won’t step up… maybe you will. We can give you a tryout, kid. Find out if dealing runs in the family.”

“I won’t,” I say flatly.

Before I can blink, Rico whips a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and presses it to my face. “You will if we say you will. Understand?”

I flinch against my bindings, but they hold fast. My lungs seize as fear overrides every one of my senses. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t speak. I can’t do anything at all except stare at the sneering face inches away from mine.

The cold metal barrel presses harder into my cheek, indenting the flesh. “I asked you a question, kid. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I rasp, my words garbled.

“Excellent.”

The gun disappears as quickly as it appeared. Tucking it back into his waistband, Rico pushes to his feet, crosses to the countertop, and grabs my keys. He tosses them playfully into the air. They jangle as they land in his hand.

“Much