When I calmed down my temper, I unclenched my fists and looked to the sofa. Lexi was pressed against the back cushion, all huge terrified eyes looking at me like I was Jack the Ripper about to tear her apart.

You terrify me, Carillo. I’m afraid of you…

A feeling close to a kick in the gut slammed into my solar plexus as her words from earlier today circled my head. This wasn’t who I was anymore.

This wasn’t who I wanted to be no more.

I moved to the opposite end of the couch and, all the while, Lexi monitored my actions like I would pounce on her or beat her to submission any second.

Sighing, I angled my head in her direction, but I couldn’t face her. I was a rat bastard, and I couldn’t face seeing the disdain in her eyes.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I said shortly.

I noted her quick inhale of breath. Squeezing my eyes shut, picturing Mamma’s pain-filled face, I wanted to tell her why I was acting like this… but more importantly, why I needed her to keep her mouth shut.

“I just… I just gotta protect my family, and only you have the power to bring us down right now. You’ve seen too much, Lexi. And I really wish you hadn’t—both for you and for me. It ain’t something I want for either of us… but it’s what we got.”

I caught her relaxing some and heard her deep inhale. I still couldn’t look her way.

“Is that why you’re hiding out in here?” she asked tentatively.

I reluctantly nodded my head.

“Are… are you a drug dealer too?”

This time my head did snap in her direction. “Fuck no. I’m not. Haven’t done that shit in years, despite what you’ve no doubt heard. I ain’t a gangbanger no more. Not since I came here to the Tide.”

The last remnants of tension seemed to ebb from her body. “But your brother still is?” she asked nervously.

I nodded slowly. I was glad she hadn’t said brothers. It made me think she hadn’t seen Levi in the quad too. That was good. Real damn good.

“He looks just like you,” she said a minute later and motioned to my dark hair and tattoos, especially the star on my left cheek. “Your brother.” Her head tilted to the side, eyes inquisitive. “Are you twins?”

I met her gaze and reluctantly answered, “Nah, he’s older than me. Just look alike, that’s all.”

“Can I ask why he’s in that life and you’re not? How you got out?” she asked, and her pale face reddened with embarrassment. She knew she was asking a question she shouldn’t.

My pierced right eyebrow rose. “You can ask, but I ain’t gonna give you an answer.”

Her top lip twitched at my response.

The silence that ensued this time didn’t feel so bad. Minutes went by, and I listened attentively for anyone approaching the door. The cops were still at the house. I could hear the deep murmur of voices behind the thick wood of the walls.

Lexi had been staring at me the entire time, but I didn’t wanna talk too much. She didn’t deserve to get in deeper than she already was.

Leaning back on the couch, I decided to try and relax, but just as I did, I felt Lexi lean in closer. My eyes narrowed, and I shot her a questioning glance.

“What the hell you looking at so close?” I asked. I wasn’t being a dick, but she was almost on my lap as she tried to look at something on my neck.

Fidgeting with her black hair, she blushed. That only made me more curious.

“What?” I asked again and folded my arms across my chest.

A bony index finger pointed at the side of my neck. I scowled in confusion.

“That tattoo,” she answered with a guilty expression, her pixie face all innocent in her interest.

“Gonna have to be more specific,” I said and gestured to my upper chest, showing the fully covered inked skin above my black T-shirt, my full sleeves, and neck.

“That one,” she pushed again and pointed her finger closer. I gave her an incredulous look. She wasn’t exactly narrowing it down. I tried to think of what I had in that spot, but it could’ve been one of about fifteen things.

Her teeth clenched in annoyance, and she prodded at my neck with the tip of her painted-black fingernail. “That one! The one that says Heighters!”

My humor dropped. As did Lexi’s pissed-off expression, and she lowered her hand.

I remembered when I got that piece of ink. I was fourteen—the same age as Levi. I’d just sold my first teener of coke and was initiated into the crew. Gio’d ordered Matteo—his original right-hand man—to brand me. Right on my neck where everyone could see who I ran with. And the star—the stidda—on my cheek to show our crew’s Sicilian connection.