Alexander

I haven’t taken my eyes off him. I’m still confused to why Jason’s here after that fight yesterday. Cruise must pick up on my irritation because he says, “Stop scowling. We’re stuck with him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s involved now.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows too much.”

Standing, I catch Jason’s attention. “We need to talk.”

“Are we breaking up?” The sarcasm drips from him, making every muscle in my body tighten. Fucker.

I let the comment slide. This time. Walking to the balcony, I slide the door open and step out. The air is cool, the heat of the day not set in as it lifts high above the city street. Leaning against the railing and watching the tiny cars below, I hear the door close behind me.

The eight-by-ten space is too small for egos as large as ours. Nothing feels spontaneous with him, so when Jason matches my position, I change mine. Upper hand and all.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier.” Now he’s got my attention, but I hold back my response in lieu of listening. “We’re friends—Sara Jane and I became friends.”

They’re friends. Not us, but the two of them. “You keep saying that.” He hates to be questioned. I mean, who likes it, but we need to settle this for good. “I’m just not sure if you’re saying that for my benefit or yours. You’ve done shit I don’t want my girl exposed to.”

“Accusations should come with facts to back them up. As for exposure, she’s exposed already. You and I both know Johnson died for hurting them.”

I scoff. “You didn’t kill him for Chad. You did it for Sara Jane.”

“Don’t act like you know me.”

“That goes both ways.” I sit in a patio chair, rest my forearms on my legs, and sigh. “We’re caught in a cycle of destruction, and the only way to stop it is to part ways or—”

“One of us is destroyed.”

He comes to that conclusion too easily, too fast. I stare at him, wondering what he’s lost to make him this cold. His profile is hard. His eyes fixed like a hawk on something in the distance. He’s seen shit go down in his life, maybe lost someone he cared about. A person doesn’t do what he does without conscience if he doesn’t have a vendetta or a point to prove. I just don’t want to be a part of him torching the world. And I don’t want Sara Jane near him when he is easily set off as if nobody’s life, not even his own, matters. Yet, she felt at ease with him. Had I somehow hardened her against feeling fear? “You may not believe me, but I don’t want that. This Rambo shit doesn’t work. You’re becoming a liability more than an asset.”

“Don’t threaten me. Ever.”

“It wasn’t a threat. It’s an observation. You’re acting as if you’re not bound by rules. As if there is no difference between right and wrong.”

“Save the psychology for your girlfriend. I’m not buying it.”

“Seems I’ve gotten too close for comfort.” My lips swerve up on one side as I watch him shift under my scrutiny. “Did I hit a nerve?” When he turns to go back inside, I say, “I haven’t dismissed you.”

His middle finger flies into the air as he keeps walking.

“What’s your problem, Koster?”

Annoyance is buried in his cheeks as he squints at me, then colors his anger when he says, “You. This. What is this place? Everything is top of the line. Have you ever had to work for something you wanted? Fight for something because you can’t live without it? And don’t say Sara Jane. You didn’t work for her. You didn’t have to win her over. I know your story. It’s a dime a dozen.”

“What have you heard?” A debate rages inside him, flickering across his face and trailing into his body. What he should say. What he shouldn’t. “Tell me what you think you know about me and Sara Jane.”

He leans against the railing to face me. “You set your eyes on her and never looked back.” Although he speaks with disgust, envy runs parallel to that emotion.

Sara Jane has become his weakness. This I relate to. This I understand all too well. He doesn’t know us as well as he thinks he does. I’ll fight for her. Till death if I have to. “She’s in love with me.”

“Let me ask you something.” His eyes finally land squarely on mine. “If she were so in love with you, why’d she leave?”

I knew he’d go there. It’s all he’s got and the most obvious question. It’s also the one thing I can’t fully answer, the one question I’ve been afraid to ask her or myself. I always go with the easy answer in my head: she’d finally had enough. That’s not what I want to tell him. I like the charade we play, the one where he’s none the wiser. “I don’t own her. There’s no magical spell she’s been placed under. She comes and goes as she pleases.”

“She left you.”

“And then she came back. Have you asked yourself why she came back to me?”

“She was pregnant.”

My stomach cringes reflexively from his cavalier attitude toward something that cuts so deep. I steady my facial reaction by gritting my teeth. He knew before me. That much is clear. But it doesn’t change that he made moves on my woman. “Why does she stay now?” I find my aggravation balling in the fist of my hand as I squeeze it.

He knows I’m right. It doesn’t matter what he assumes about Sara Jane, she’s mine and always will be. Not because I love her and will give her the universe, but because she loves me and will give me the world. “Look, Jason. I’ve taken your shit since you got here. I don’t know where you came from, or where you’re heading next, but while you’re here, you take orders from me. Or you can move it the fuck along.”

“I’ll go when I’m ready, and I’m not ready.”

Sara Jane is my only weapon against him. I will use his Achilles heel against him until he’s destroyed. “Don’t stay for my girl. She’s taken care of. In fact, don’t go near her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.”

His chest expands, his anger spreading up his neck. “You don’t own her, remember?”

A smirk slides into place. The fact that she came back for me is enough to give me confidence. We own each other. “I own Sara Jane’s heart, and that’s all that matters.”

“Do you feel big tossing her name around like a prize you won at a carnival? She’s smart, and she’s on to you.” Standing straight up, his shoulders broaden in a pissing contest.

On to me? “There’s nothing to be on to.” Throughout the ups and downs we’ve had over the years, she’s the one constant for me and I her. Even in her absence, she owned me; the tether that ties us together never tore. He’s fumbling over his emotions for a woman that will never love him back. The sting is ever present in his reddening face. “You aren’t competition for me. You think you are. I get it. You think you made some kind of small-town connection with a girl hiding from her life. Even Sara Jane has moments of weakness and pity.”

“She didn’t pity me. She confided in me. That’s what bothers you most. Our connection was real—”

“Yet you both used fake names. Why is that?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Our connection is based on real feelings and trust. Trust is something you’ll never have from her.”

My neck bends, my head tilted to the side as my eyes home in on my target. My shoulders tense, my biceps tighten, preparing for the fight. I’m so close to throwing this asshole over this railing, but that’s not who I am, and I won’t let him drag me into hell to become what he has become. “It must be nice to say and do whatever you want when you have nothing to lose. Guess what? I don’t have the luxury. I have every fucking thing on the line for two reasons: to find out who wants to ruin my family, which includes Sara Jane, and why.” I walk to the door and open it. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you. You answer one way and I’ll give you a clean slate. You answer the other and you won’t make it past Main Street. That’s a threat I can back. So, are you with me or against me?”

His deliberate pause as if he really has a choice is amusing. I know his answer before he speaks. Dollar signs speak to him louder than words ever will. Sara Jane will always come second to his greed.

“Money gives you power I can’t compete with, and Cruise doubled my rate if I stay on, so I guess I’m with you.”

Too fucking easy. My father was right about one thing—anything and anyone can be bought. But I’m not lowering my guard just yet. I’m well aware it’s not my money that keeps him here. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the intrigue of the mystery, and a little brunette with blue eyes that captivated him like she did me many years ago. He holds out his hand, and I set aside my thoughts on the matter in an effort to make this work, because Cruise says we need him. Fuck.

When I accept his handshake, he says, “This is a gentleman’s agreement among thieves. No matter what goes down, I’ll have your back.”

“Good to know. And if you keep your promise . . .” We stand close, our hands bound by more than a job. I turn suddenly and start for the door. “I’ll have yours as well.”

Cruise looks up from his monitor when I walk inside. “I was already coming up with an alibi.”

“For what?” I ask, heading to the fridge.

“When one of you got tossed over.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” I grab an energy drink and crack the top off.

Jason walks in. “Grab me one while you’re there,” he says, eyeing my drink.

He doesn’t warrant a response. I might have had an alibi or two running through my mind as well out on that balcony. We may have come to an agreement, but we aren’t friends.

Maneuvering behind Cruise, I look over his shoulder at the monitor. “What have you found?”

“Remember the guys from the alley? The ones we got a tip from the Kingwood ex-exec?”

“Yeah. They dented my bike and beat the shit out of us. They’re kind of hard to forget,” I reply, grabbing Chad’s chair and pulling it out. Cruise goes quiet as I stand there wondering the same thing—do I honor Chad by not sitting in it or pay homage to him by using it?

I sit.

This is our new normal. “They don’t only have ties to Kingwood Enterprises, but to O’Hare. O’Hare paid them for the beat down we were on the receiving end of. Fucker.”

“But if they had ties to O’Hare, they had ties to Johnson.” I roll closer, staring at the monitor. “Is that a deposit on the day Sara Jane was attacked?”

“Looks like Johnson made a lofty one to an offshore account the same night.”

“Fucker is right. One hundred K. That’s all her life meant to them.”

“And Chad’s.” He dips his head and rubs his brow. “Their lives meant nothing but a dollar sign. Fuck them all the way to hell.”

“The question remains, what else did O’Hare and Johnson have ties to?”

“It’s not what, but who? Who was paying them?”

“Who?”

He types something and then points at the screen. “Your mother.”