“I’m great, Dylan. Thanks for asking,” I replied sweetly.
A beat of silence. “Are you home?”
“Yes,” I said as bluntly. And then I remembered that he had been investigating the creepy guy. “Did you find anything in the mall?”
His reply was instant. “Can’t really talk on the phone, it’s not secure, but … security footage was erased.”
Shit. That had to mean something, because why erase footage if nothing suspect was going on.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Dylan said, and I heard the roar of an engine before the line went dead.
Needing to change before he got here, I dragged myself upstairs and kicked off my shoes. The uniform followed, and I pulled on jeans and a white shirt, tying my long hair back into a loose braid.
When I got downstairs Stewart was opening the door, and it was almost as if our huge front entrance shrunk around the giant badass that was Dylan. When he looked up and saw me at the foot of the stairs, he inclined his head asking me to follow him outside. I nodded, figuring that whatever he wanted to tell me was Delta business.
We walked across the soft grassed area away from the house, and when he stopped, he ran his gaze over me. “I was worried about you,” he said in that quiet, confident way of his. Dylan from the start might have looked like the scariest, but he was the most caring. I’d seen it enough times now to know he was the one that held the others together. Beck was their leader, their fury, their fear. But Dylan was their heart. Loyal. Lethal. And … lonely.
“You think Beck could hurt me?” I asked, because what else could he have worried about.
The smallest of smiles tilted up his lips. “There are many different ways to hurt someone. And some are harder to recover from.”
There was pain in his voice, hidden deep under the neutral tone he used.
Unable to stop, I reached out and took his hand. “Who hurt you?” I demanded, surprised by the venom in my words. It pissed me right off to think of his pain.
All of their pain.
It was becoming my pain too.
Dylan glanced at our hands before lifting his flawless face back to meet my gaze. “You’re never afraid to touch me,” he said, his fingers tightening around mine.
I tilted my head to the side as I stared, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
“Why would I be…?”
Cynicism washed away every other expression. “My mother would never touch me because I was the result of an affair with the nanny. My father was fucking ashamed of me because he likes to whitewash his world, but of course, he couldn’t keep his dick out of the not-at-all-white hired help and here I am.”
I’d wondered how an ancient as fuck, bunch of old assholes had accepted someone like Dylan into their inner circle. I personally, loved the creamy darkness of his skin, the slightly exotic tilt to his cheekbones, and the scary glint in his eyes. But that wasn’t Militant Delta Finances. They were about being rich, white bastards.
“Your real mom?” I whispered.
He shook his head. “Disappeared. Probably dead.”
My hand clenched around his, and he shrugged. “Can’t miss what you’ve never had, and since my father’s wife couldn’t have any children of her own, I was raised as a legitimate child. But only in public. Behind closed doors...”
Jesus Christ. I couldn’t even imagine what had gone on. “Is that why they made you do all that survival stuff?”
Dylan shook his head. “Nope. I think they would have preferred I didn’t learn how to defend myself, but it’s tradition. And they’re all about tradition.”
Another broken boy. Desperate for love and acceptance. This was why he cared so much, why he’d gone the opposite way to Beck.
His beautiful face was still, staring down at me with depthless eyes. For a moment I wondered why it couldn’t have been Dylan. Why the fuck was Beck the one who ripped my heart out of my chest every single time he was around me?
“I’m always here for you,” I said to Dylan, because he was important to me now. “If things get hard at home, come and find me.”
He shook his head, and like watching someone wipe a slate clean, he pulled all of the sorrow away and was back to being cool and collected. Gently untangling our hands, he crossed his arms over that impressive chest. “I actually stopped by for another reason,” he said all business. “It’s clear someone tampered with the security footage at the mall. Something was going on, and since the guy you saw was close to you, I’m going to hazard a guess that Huntley has figured out that you’re a weakness in our ranks now. The rest of us, we can take care of ourselves. We’re trained and dangerous. You…” his eyes ran down me slowly. “Are a lot of things, but you’re not dangerous.”
I snorted. “You’ve clearly never seen me during shark week.”
He flashed me a lopsided grin. “Hormones aside, I think you need to do some training. At least learn basic defense and to shoot a gun. It won’t be enough, but it’s better than nothing.”
I closed my eyes and let out an exaggerated gust of air. “You’re probably right, and I’m actually pretty good at anything athletic, so hopefully I pick it up quickly.”
Dylan nodded. “We’re good trainers.”
“We’re…” I said with a groan. “All of you will be training me?”
His lips tilted up. “There’s no one better with a weapon than Beck.”
I should have guessed that. Dylan was the martial arts expert, and Beck was the “shoot them in the fucking head” expert.
“Okay, but can we start tomorrow. I’m pretty beat already.” I paused. “And beat up. Let’s not go too hard on me, yeah?”
It felt like today had been going for a million years.
Dylan nodded. “Yep. I’ll pick you up in the morning. Around ten.”
“Uh, school?” I said.
“Not tomorrow, this is more important.”
That was fine by me. I’d always been an average student, and while I used to be interested in decent grades to get into college, now I was apparently inheriting a seat on a billion dollar company without even having to pass senior year.
More importantly, if I didn’t figure out how to keep myself alive, it wouldn’t matter about school or grades or anything.
Dylan left after that, and I made my way back to the monstrosity of a house that I now called home. Stewart greeted me. “Are the birth parents in?” I asked, needing to know if I was about to be ambushed.
He shook his head. “No, miss. They’re at the New York office.”
Looked like the day was finally turning around. “I’ll be in my room,” I said.
“I’ll bring you some food,” he called as I started to walk.
I flashed him a smile before traipsing up the stairs, and crawling into bed. Now that I had my new nifty television, I was going to enjoy some relaxing time watching trashy movies and eating whatever I could get my hands on.
The first thing I did was text Dante though. Me: Are you okay?
It was a few minutes before he replied. Dante: I’m good, Riles. Just dealing with some business. Are you okay?
I had to think about that answer for a moment before deciding that I was as good as could be expected. Under the circumstances.
Me: I’m okay. The guys are being crazy protective, and I can’t decide if I’d rather be kidnapped or not just to get away from them.
It was in my nature to joke about the more serious shit ... made it easier to deal with.
Dante: Lay low. Please. For me. I’m gathering as much information as I can; we’ll make it safe for you. I promise.
Me: Love you, Dante. Stay safe.
Dante: Love you too, Riles.
I plugged my phone into the charger and turned my attention to the television, scrolling through the million and one choices before I settled on The Fast and the Furious. I’d seen these movies so many times that by now they were comfort food for me.
Stewart arrived some time later, and he had a tray filled with more junk food than was possible for any one person to eat. Along with a delicious boscaiola pasta.
“You spoil me,” I gushed at him, wondering if maybe I should just set my sights on a man that brought me food. If only Stewart wasn’t forty years older than me, he’d be almost perfect.
I made it through three and a half movies before sleep pressed in on me. I dragged myself into the shower, changed into the softest cotton pajamas with roses on them, and snuggled under the covers.
Then I closed my eyes, and … the pilot’s face flashed right across my mind.
18
Tears actually sprang to my eyes as they flew open. This could not be happening. I needed to sleep, it was one of my favorite things to do, and having dead people appear every single time I closed my eyes, was really going to impact my life.
There was only one other time I remembered having insomnia. When I was ten my childhood best friend, Jessie Mcglee, moved away. Outside of Dante—and now Eddy—she was the only true friend I’d ever had, and I’d missed her so much. My mom had to sleep in my room with me for three weeks before I could finally relax my brain to sleep alone. This time though, I had no mom…
My chest got tight and I tried not to break, despite the pressure in my throat and behind my eyes. Scrambling out of bed, I was sucking air in and out, trying to get myself under control.
Without thought, I was pulling on my dressing gown and Uggs again, stumbling downstairs, and throwing myself into the golf cart. The codes were memorized now and I barely even stopped at the gate before I was flying down the road between my house and Becks.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.
I needed to do anything except think about my dead parents. The dead pilot. The dead assassins. Or even the alive assassins who were still trying to kill me.
What if he’s not alone?
My foot lifted from the gas, and I let the cart slowly idle forward. I wasn’t quite at the front of his house, and I slammed my hands on the wheel, hating myself for this fucking weakness.