Текст книги "Relinquish"

Автор книги: M. N. Forgy

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

NINETEEN

LANDON

My jaw is clenched so tightly, I’m nearly crushing my teeth. Seeing Hudson all over her, seeing her kiss him, it fucking unleashed a surge of jealousy. Realizing my choices, I decide I can’t do this anymore. My mother would tell me to go for Charlie if she were still here. I can still hold my promise to her. I can have the estate and Charlie, make her the madam of the estate. My father wrote the rules of not being with our escorts, but I’m in charge now.

I look over, watching Charlie explain why she’s leaving to Jayden. I hated being a prick to her and sending her to her room, but I can’t control myself around her. I feel accusing eyes stare at me from the side. Looking over, I see my father glare at me, an eyebrow arched and his arms crossed. He pats a client’s shoulder and heads my way.

“Fuck,” I whisper. I know he witnessed me sending Hudson on his way and nearly dry-fucking Charlie on the dance floor.

“Landon,” my father greets. He jerks his chin toward the patio, silently telling me to follow. I blow out a breath of annoyance and do as requested. Stepping outside, I hear the bugs of the night singing, and the heat instantly makes me sweat. “Why did Hudson leave, and where is Charlie going?” he questions, digging a hand in his pocket.

I swallow hard, not sure if I should tell him the truth.

“I don’t like the way you look at that girl. You know the rules. No sleeping with the girls. She needs to go,” he states sternly.

My head whips in his direction. “That is for me to decide,” I inform him. “And why aren’t we allowed to be with the girls again? Oh, that’s right—”

“This is my estate. I worked hard for it, and I will not watch it burn to the ground over some whore!” he yells, blood vessels protruding on his forehead. I grind my teeth, infuriated that he called Charlie a whore.

“You worked hard for it? What exactly did you do?” I roar back, stepping up to him. He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it quickly.

“You were just given the throne. Your father didn’t even test if you were worthy. Daddy’s little boy,” I sneer.

“Have you been drinking, Landon?” He tries to change the subject.

“But me, what did I do? What did I have to do to show I was worthy?” My hands are clenched with anger.

“I needed to know that—”

“That what? I was as fucked-up as you were?” I interrupt. His eyes go wide, and his chest lifts with a heavy breath.

“What is going on out here? Everyone can hear everything you two are saying,” Roman explains, walking outside, Jayden by his side.

“Party’s over,” I clip, pushing past my father. This, right here, between my father and I, couldn’t have made things clearer for me.

CHARLIE

I lie in bed watching rain splatter against the window as light thunder sounds from above. Huh. It’s the first time I’ve seen it rain since I’ve been here.

My eyes become heavy as I watch the streams of rain cascade down the glass, taking me into a deep sleep.

I hear my door click open and shut, waking me somewhat. I lazily look over my shoulder and see a big, black figure walk toward my bed. The smell of freshness and spice consumes me, telling me it’s Landon.

“Landon?” I mumble, half-asleep.

He pulls back the blanket, revealing me in nothing but a skimpy cami and panties.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer me, just swoops his arms under my frame and picks me up, placing me against his bare chest. His skin against mine is hard and warm.

“Where are we going?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck and inhaling a large whiff of his scent.

“My room,” he finally responds. I want to go to Landon’s room, I do, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough to keep up with pretend and reality.

“I can’t, Landon,” I admit, but my words don’t stop him. He strides out of my room and down the hall toward his.

“Landon, I said I can’t,” I repeat, looking at his face. He keeps his stare forward, not giving in to my rejections. “Do you hear me?”

He slowly turns his head, pinning me with those hunted eyes. “I heard you, and I’m not listening.” My mouth gapes open, and my heart stammers.

He opens his door, the sound of Sam Smith’s “Lay Me Down” playing. I look around his room but can’t see anything it’s so dark. I see a balcony, curtains drifting in and out of the room with the storm, and a bed in front of that. With the moon hiding behind thick, thunderous clouds, there isn’t even a glow of moonlight to light the way. He shuts the door, slowly plants me on his bed, and places his hands on each side of my hips, his face level with mine.

“Landon, please. I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper, closing my eyes. The proximity of his large frame is already making me doubt the words leaving my mouth.

“Can’t do what?” he questions, his minty breath brushing against my face.

I open my eyes, seeking his in the dark.

“I can’t pretend.”

Landon hangs his head and lets out a heavy breath. To be his one minute but not the next, I can’t do it. I’m not that strong.

“Landon, what do you fear?” I ask, running my fingers along the scruff of his jaw. His head lifts in my palm and tilts to the side. Not containing my urges anymore, I run my nails through his hair, the feel of it sliding between my fingers making my body come alive.

“What is your biggest fear? What do you fear in life, Landon?” I repeat. He doesn’t respond, just stares at me. I take the opportunity to open myself up a little. I shouldn’t, I know that, but what do I have to lose?

“Mine. My fear…” My bottom lip trembles with nerves for what I’m about to say, what I’m going to admit to. I know if he wants to, he could use it against me. “I’m scared of not feeling the things I feel when I’m with you ever again.”

Landon lifts his hand and grabs the nape of my neck, pulling my forehead to his.

“No more pretending,” he mutters, his voice deep and raw. My breath hitches, and a tight knot forms in my stomach. What I’m feeling right now could be compared to someone who has gone their whole life looking for a cure to some intense sickness… and they just stumbled upon the remedy.

Our lips find each other in the dark, greedily seeking the other’s as he lays me flat on the bed. His eyes hold a raw hunger as he looks upon me sprawled along his bed.

He dips his hand between my legs, his fingertips lazily trailing the inside of my thigh and awakening a dozen nerves.

“Tell me you’re not done.” My eyes lazily open as my fingers grasp his long hair. “Tell me you’re not finished with me, Charlie,” he rasps. His tongue tastes the skin along my inner neck, and my eyes flutter from the incredible sensation. I can hear the hurt in his voice. When I told him I was walking away, it bothered him.

I close my eyes and whisper. “Not done.”

“All in,” he mutters. “Remember?”

I nod and bite my bottom lip.  “All in,” I repeat.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?” he questions. I can’t see his face, but I’m sure he has an arrogant smirk curling his lips. He moves his hand toward my apex, causing my body to hum with anticipation. He skids the pad of his finger along my wetness, causing me to bite my lip with the agonizing torture he’s causing.

“Yes!” I moan deeply. I’d agree to anything I’m so wound up.

He slowly slides a finger into my heat, the feeling divine, causing my mouth to gape open as my eyes clench shut. He hooks his finger, caressing the bundle of nerves that make me feel like I just came on the spot. An erotic mewl escapes my mouth, catching me by surprise.

“I can feel your greedy little pussy clenching my finger,” he states, his voice husky. He slowly slips his finger out and I open my eyes, finding heavy-lidded ones pinning me where I lie.

He parts his lips, his eyes never leaving mine, and darts his finger into his mouth, sucking it clean of my juices.

I can’t move. I can’t respond. I just pant, watching him.

“You are the sweetest damn thing,” he whispers.

His hands slide up the side of my body, taking my top with them. He hisses between his teeth and grabs one of my breasts with his large palm. He darts his head down and slips a nipple into his mouth. With the warmth from his mouth on my skin, my body arches against his and my core clenches.

I run my fingers through his hair as he places tender kisses along my tits and down my rib cage. He dips his nose into my belly button and chills race up my spine. My body twists and curves with his. Our bodies respond to one another like they’ve silently been talking to each other the whole time Landon and I have been denying our attraction. The respect he’s showing me, the care he’s showcasing has my heart and mind racing all over the place.

He grabs me by the upper arms and pulls my body up, turning me and laying my chest on his bed, my back facing him. He runs his hand down my spine, making me sigh loudly and arch my head backwards, my hair spreading across my back. He caresses my ass cheeks, his fingers so close to my heat but not close enough.

Nudging my legs apart, Landon places himself between my thighs. I look over my shoulder and see him sitting on his knees, his cock in his hand, sliding it up and down. He glides the head of his dick against my leg, leaving a trail of wetness behind. He centers himself at my opening and in one quick move, he thrusts in. My hips meet his mid-thrust, and I moan loudly as he stretches me. He lowers his body, his hard chest lying on my back as he thrusts in and out slowly, his weight nearly crushing me into the mattress. He brushes my hair to one side before he grabs both my hands and places them above my head, his sweaty palms never leaving mine as he fucks me while tenderly kissing along the nape of my neck. His lips make love to my skin as his length pounds into me, causing me to moan against the mattress.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m your client now, forever. You hooked me from the day you ran into me, Charlie,” he whispers into my ear. My only response is a whimper. “Now you’re stuck with me, and I can promise you that you’ll never feel alone again.” He nips my ear, and I sag into him like a cat seeking attention from its owner.

My core pulses with pleasure. I’m not ready to come, not ready for this to be over, but my body has other plans. He untangles one of his hands from mine and slides it down my arm. Pushing it between me and the mattress, he grabs my breast while he picks up the pace. I hear his teeth grind as he rests his sweaty forehead on my shoulder, the sweet tempo of his hips recklessly pumping into me, finding its ecstasy.

The storm once building in my core fires back with a force so strong I can’t breathe. I clench my eyes and my mouth falls open as I moan with my climax. Landon roars as he pounds relentlessly, spilling into me.

He pants hard, his breath tickling my face. My chest heaving as I try to catch my breath, my body is nothing but a mess from Landon devouring my senses.

“You asked what I’m afraid of. What I fear.” He pants and I nod, my body sweaty and sticking to his.

“I’m afraid of becoming my father,” he mumbles, his deep voice vibrating against my back. “Ruthless, arrogant, no respect for women,” he admits. “I’m afraid of letting my mother down.”

“Why don’t you just leave the estate?” I question.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“When my mother was sick, she was sent away because my father couldn’t bear to watch her die. When I went to see her one weekend, she said I’d changed. I told her I was fine, but she insisted that she knew me, and knew there was something wrong. I told her I wasn’t interested in working the estate. She then grabbed my hand and made me promise to take the throne next. She said my father ruined the credibility of the estate, made a mockery out of the Blackwell name.”

“You said she was sick? What was wrong?”

“She had cancer.” His tone is grave, and I touch his arm for comfort.

“My mother loved the estate. She was truly the Madam of the place. Before my father inherited everything, working at the estate was only for those who were skilled, and our clients felt privileged to be on our list. Pimps around Vegas feared us and cursed our name. But my father used our girls, put them against each other, had parties to the point we had more than several girls overdose on many occasions. We had cracked-out escorts with STDs spreading around the estate and to our clients.” Landon looks at me, his face hard. “I’ve worked very hard to bring our estate and the Blackwell name back to its rightful worth.”

“So you were telling me the truth. You took me to show the pimps around Vegas that you meant business?” I question, everything beginning to make sense.

“At first, yes, but then when I saw it was you… I knew I couldn’t make you a working girl.” He cups my chin and pulls me close, our lips almost touching. I was right; Landon isn’t the dark asshole he tries to make himself out to be. He’s actually endearing, and holding a promise to his mother. I don’t think a man could be any more loyal.

“From the moment you ran into me in Vegas, I’ve been drawn to you,” he whispers against my lips.

“I hated you for taking me away from Jayden, but how can I now?” I brush my lips against his, my eyes staring at his with a raw emotion.

“You couldn’t stay mad at me,” he replies arrogantly as he presses his lips to mine, rolling me on top of him.

“What about us?” I mumble against his mouth, nipping his bottom lip

“I’ll figure it out.” He moans, grabbing my hips and pulling me on top of his length. My head falls back, and I groan with satisfaction as Landon takes me for another round.

TWENTY

CHARLIE

I wake to the sun shining brightly and my body sore. Sitting up, I look for Landon, and discover I’m back in my room, naked and in my bed. I smirk, thinking about last night. Happiness is gluing my cold heart into something warm and whole this morning. I crawl out of bed, the ache between my legs reminding me of him, the things he said to me, what he said to me. I want to believe that we can make us work, that there might be something there, but from what Landon says about his father, I’m not sure if that will happen.

My eyes widen when a thought hits me. The folder with Evans written on it. I forgot all about it. I run to the clothes thrown on the floor, shimmying on some short-shorts and a white shirt that hangs off the shoulder. I open the door, looking both ways before racing toward the pot in the hallway. My heart pounds in my ears that I may get caught. When I reach it, I look around, making sure nobody is near before I grab the folder. I hide it under my shirt and run back to my room quickly, my heart slamming so hard against my chest I can barely breathe. I shut my door slowly, making sure not to make any noise. Once closed, I slide against it, falling to the floor with the folder.

I bite my lip nervously, scared of what is in it. It could be nothing; it could be some other woman named Evans. I let out a nervous breath and open it, lifting it upside-down and letting the contents fall to the floor. There are a bunch of pictures and some papers. I pick up a piece of paper and see men’s names and figures. It’s a client list, and payments. I frown. It can’t be me; I haven’t had but one client so far. I toss it to the side and grab the picture. Surveying the photo, I see Miller, but he looks much younger, and a woman. A woman who looks just like me. I frown and flip the photo over, my heart a painful ache against my chest.  ‘Gala of 2005, Miller and Maria Evans.’ My mother. I drop the photo, my breathing becoming chaotic. I grab another picture and see more of my mother and Miller. Tears drip from my eyes and fall along the photos.

I clutch the piece of paper that was in the folder and look it over, searching for her name somewhere. There it is, at the bottom. Maria Evans. My mother was an escort. My chest heaves. I’m sucking in large amounts of air, but I’m still not catching my breath. I grab another piece of paper on the floor and look it over.

It looks to be some kind of doctor form. My eyes trail along the information of white female, age, hair color, and cause of death is a gunshot wound to the head. My nose flares. It’s a coroner’s report. How did Miller get this? He’s powerful, and he has connections. Did he have something to do with my mother’s death? Why would he hide these in the back of his desk if he didn’t?

I let out a loud cry and kick the pictures and papers, trying to crawl up the door to get away from all the evidence linking my mother’s death to the estate.

I close my eyes and rock back and forth. How? Why? My mother is dead. My lips tremble with sorrow as the news of my mother permanently being gone hits my soul. I used to curse her for being absent when things were rough in foster care, but she didn’t leave me. She didn’t kill herself, and Miller knows something. The way my body reacts in fear when he’s around me, it’s alerting me of danger, even if I didn’t know it.

I stand on shaky legs and grab the photo of my mother. She was so beautiful. I look almost identical to her. It’s no wonder Miller looks at me the way he does.

My legs make their way down the stairs on their own accord, as if my journey to Landon’s office is on autopilot. Tears still stream down my face as I stare at the photo. I push Landon’s office door open and head toward his desk mindlessly. Laughter comes from a room adjoining his office and echoes. I pull open the drawer and my eyes land on the gun. I reach in with a trembling hand, gripping the heavy metal. The office door swings open, but I don’t look away from the weapon resting in my palm.

“Charlie.” I slowly take my gaze from my hand toward the voice, finding none other than Miller.

“Whoa, what are you doing with that?” he questions warily.

“Admit it,” I seethe, rounding the desk on shaky legs.

“I’m sorry?”

“Admit you killed her!” I scream, tossing the photo at him.

He leans down slowly and picks the photo up. Inhaling, his head tilted down, his eyes trail from the photo to me, looking vindictive.

“So, it was you who was in my desk,” he states, his tone of fear gone.

“Admit it,” I repeat.

“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” He chuckles. I lift my head with his comment. He admits he knows her, but did Miller kill her? The only thing I can remember from that day is that tattoo of wings. My eyes dart to Miller. He has a tattoo on his back; I remember seeing a piece of it.

“Take your shirt off,” I demand, aiming the gun at him.

“Now, why would I do that?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I need to see it. I need to know it was you before I kill you,” I threaten, thrusting the gun toward him.

The side door that contained the laughter opens, but I don’t look away from Miller.

“Charlie!” Landon hollers.

“Oh, fuck!” Roman shouts.

“What are you doing, Charlie?” Landon questions cautiously.

“He killed my mother!” I yell, sobbing. “I was only nine, but I remember the tattoo of wings,” I cry.

“She wants me to admit to killing her whore of a mother,” Miller confirms, giving Landon a look I don’t understand.

“You,” Landon whispers, taking on a confused tone as he stares at me like he’s just now seeing me for the very first time. I ignore it, my only mission centered on Miller and his tattoo.

“Take your shirt off. Now.” I cock the gun like they do in the movies, loading a round in the chamber. The clicking of it placing a bullet marked for my mother’s killer echoes through the room. I gasp, it actually worked.

Miller looks over at Landon and Roman, then he slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. My hands begin to sweat, causing them to slip from the gun. He pulls it off his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor beside him.

“Turn,” I growl. Miller swallows and spins, holding his arms out, the ink on his back on full display. My eyes widen, and my mouth parts as I shake my head. It just says ‘Blackwell’.

“That can’t be,” I mumble, dumbfounded. “No, it was you!” I reaffirm, pointing the gun at him. Landon walks by his father’s side and I swing the gun toward him, not sure what he’s doing. My nerves and inner conflict are making me erratic.

Landon slowly starts to unbutton his white dress shirt, his head lifted.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pointing the gun between him and his father. Landon pulls on his sleeves and yanks his shirt off. He slowly turns, showing big, black wings staining his back. A strangled cry leaves my mouth, my knees threatening to buckle as I take in the wings that haunt me. My eyes catch one white feather on the bottom. That doesn’t match my dreams, though. My legs shake and my blood rushes to my chest, trying to keep up with my racing heart.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.

Landon turns and looks at his father.

“See. I didn’t kill your mother.” Miller looks at Landon and smirks. “He did.”

Tears flood my eyes. “Is that true?” I question, my voice cracking with emotion.

“It’s complicated,” Landon starts.

“Yes or no. Did you kill my mom?” I scream, my throat hurting.

Landon lowers his head and swallows.

“Yes,” he whispers. My body goes numb. The only feeling I register is the ache radiating in my chest. I lift my head, my chin trembling with emotion as my finger pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes through the room and a bullet slams into Landon, causing him to fall to the floor.

The sound takes me out of my shock, and I scream and drop the gun. I shot him. I fucking shot him! My ears drown out all sounds. All the hollering from Roman, Miller, and Veronica. Silence. Everything slows down, my vision wobbling as I take in Landon’s family panicking.

Roman, Miller, and Veronica all rush to Landon’s side in what seems like slow motion. I see blood creep out from under Landon, and I sob, my body shaking as I cry loudly.

“I didn’t mean—” I swallow hard and look toward the door. I glance back at the Blackwells and see Roman on his phone. At that point, I know I need to run. I look back down at Landon, not moving.  I strengthen my legs and sprint out of the office, out the front door and toward a black car parked in front. I climb behind the driver’s side and pray there are keys inside. My hands search the steering wheel, and when my fingers find them in the ignition, I cry harder with the relief.

Starting the car with trembling hands, I peel out of the driveway and race toward Jayden.

I just killed Landon. My mother is dead. I have to run. Those three things are on repeat in my head as I drive toward the city.

***

I head to the strip where the sidewalks are littered with people going in and out of casinos and shops. I park the stolen car on the side of the road and get out, knowing I can’t drive the car to my place or pass the heart of Vegas without a cop seeing the stolen vehicle.

I shot Landon, probably killed him. I close my eyes, the look of shock racing across his face as he fell to the floor flashing behind my eyes. I didn’t mean to shoot him. I was in shock, my finger reacting without real thought. My heart aches knowing I might have killed the only person in this world I deeply care about, maybe love. The heat of the day instantly warms my skin when I step out. A woman with a tube top for a shirt and designer-looking jeans slows her stride, her eyes scanning me from top to bottom before her lip curls in distaste and she walks on. I furrow my brows at her reaction and look down at myself, curious at what she was looking at when I find myself in a camisole and PJ shorts, no shoes. I’m standing out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck,” I whisper, running my hand through my hair in agitation. My eyes catch a door swinging open in an alley way, a guy in an apron and chef hat swinging a garbage can over his head and emptying the contents into a dumpster. Without another thought, I sprint down the alley. I can’t walk along the strip in this; I’ll cause too much attention for sure. I run. I run until my head throbs, my clothes are soaked with sweat, and my feet feel like they’ve been thrusting against razor blades. I run until I finally reach the shitty apartment I shared with Jayden.

My chest wheezes for air while I slowly climb the stairs. I open the door, which isn’t locked, and find Jayden curled up in her bed, sound-asleep. The smell of home soothes my panicked state. The house is a mess. There are clothes thrown everywhere and empty boxes of food all over the floor.

“Jay,” I pant, tripping into the apartment. Jayden pops up, her hair sticking up everywhere and eyes half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Jayden. We gotta, we gotta—” I can’t seem to spit the fucking words out.

“Charlie? Oh, my God, are you okay?” She hurries out of bed and grabs me by the elbow to steady me.

“I’m in trouble, and I have to get out of town. I have to hide.” I heave, sitting down on my old bed, trying to catch my breath.

“What happened? What do you mean?” Her eyes are wide, her head shaking back and forth in confusion.

I swallow hard, my dry tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, and I choke. I slowly tear my gaze from the dirty floor to Jayden’s panicked eyes and let out a breath of air.

“I killed Landon,” I rasp.

“You what!” Jayden snaps her body up straight, covering her mouth with her hand in shock.

“I think. I don’t know. But the Blackwells will be after me. I know it.”

“How do you think you killed someone? You either did or you didn’t.” Her eyebrows furrow with confusion.

“I did. Now, I have to hide. I don’t have time for this shit!” I yell, standing up and rushing to my closet.

I grab a sports bra and my stretched-out Harley Davidson shirt, putting them on quickly before grabbing some ripped shorts.

I risk a glimpse over at Jayden, finding her by my bed, her face still the image of shock.

I snap my fingers, grabbing her attention. She nods and licks her bottom lip.

“Mick, he’ll save us,” Jayden reassures, like everything is magically fixed.

I purse my lips and lift a brow.

“You’re still holding on to that ‘you’re safe with me’ bullshit? Because he didn’t do a damn thing when Landon took me,” I remind her.

She huffs out a tired breath and places her hand on her hip. “I don’t see a lot of other options right now, do you?”

I shake my head and grab some flip-flops. “No, I don’t, unfortunately.”

Jayden grabs some clothes off the floor and starts putting them on, making me realize she’s been naked this whole time. I was just too determined to get some clothes and run to notice it.

We hurry out of the apartment and avoid the main alleys and streets to get to Mick’s. The whole time, Jayden is staring at me, a million questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. And I’m looking over my shoulder, paranoid a Blackwell is tailing us. Along with my paranoia, I feel guilt. Sorrow. I killed Landon, the man I care about. But that man, the man I thought I finally had figured out, is actually the man in my dreams who haunts me. He killed my mother. To hate and to love are two polar opposites, yet I feel them both right now.

“Here we are,” I whisper, striding into Mick’s office.

“Fancy! Rarity!” Mick greets, sitting behind his desk, wearing a dark purple shirt with a gold chain. He looks like a stereotypical pimp today.

“Fancy needs help,” Jayden spits outs, making me rub the nape of my neck nervously. She couldn’t ease into the conversation?

Mick sits back in his chair and steeples his hands, his forehead wrinkling as he looks at me.

“Is that right? And why does Fancy need help?” Mick questions, his tone taking a hint of concern.

“I just—”

“She killed that rich fucker,” Jayden interrupts. I slowly turn my head and glare at her.

“Fuck. No!” Mick shouts, pointing at his door dismissing me.

“But—”

“No. I am not getting involved with the Blackwells. Especially if some whore is dumb enough to kill one. You!” He points at me. “Get out and run. Run far away,” Mick instructs.

“You owe me,” I grit. I lower my head and glower at him, but he just chuckles and shakes his head.

“And why do you think that, sweetheart?” Mick laughs.

“You said I was safe. You said this was my family, but you didn’t lift a finger to save me.” I point at my chest and lean over his desk. “I saved me. I did what I had to do. Therefore, you owe me,” I snarl.

Mick takes in a large breath, his face turning sympathetic. Like something you would see on a puppy begging for food.

“I’m sorry, Fancy, but I can’t.” He shakes his head. “Landon is making a statement by taking over the Blackwells, and I’m not about to jump on that ride.  The best I can do is give you your cut from working here.” He rubs his hands over his head and continues to shake it back and forth.

“I might know someone who can lower the rent on a place, get you in there till you can figure something out—”

“Deal,” I interrupt.

He opens his drawer, pulling out a bag of some sort, and throws a bunch of hundreds on the table.

I grab the money and shove it in my pocket as he picks his phone up to make the call about the apartment.

I glance at Jayden, who is still looking at me strangely.

“What?” I finally ask.

“How did you do it?” Jayden whispers as Mick talks on the phone.

“Do what?” I reply vague.

“How did you kill him?”

I swallow, my heart sinking in the pit of my stomach as I think about it. The gun pulling back as it fired. The loud bang. The blood. Landon’s face.

“I shot him,” I mumble, closing my eyes. How did I miss the tattoo on Landon’s back? I close my eyes, and images of Landon and me together play behind my eyes. Us at the hotel, but the little bit of red lighting cascading into our room wasn’t enough to see with. When I was on his desk in his office, he still had his shirt on, and when we were in his room last night, it was too dark to see anything. The evidence was right in front of me, and I missed it every time.

“Daaaaamn,” Jayden remarks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Done. Go out, make a left, walk six blocks till you get to a hotel that reads Hawns. He’ll take care of you,” Mick directs as he points toward the door. “Now. Get out now,” he insists, his voice serious.

“Thank you,” I reply, turning to leave.

“Rarity, you need to leave and never come back here. Do you understand?” Mick questions,, cocking his head to the side.

“Why?”

“You have been running the streets with Fancy, who killed a Blackwell. I don’t need to chance that someone saw you two together, and is tailing you,” Mick explains, his tone hard.