Page 69

“He didn’t hurt me. He was surprisingly cool with it. Way cooler than he was with you.”
Mag shrugs. “I deserve it.”
I pull away to stare into his hazel-green eyes. Specks of gold greet me. “Do you really think I’m all your saviors?”
“I think you’re that and so much fucking more.”
His words are like a tractor beam leading me forward until my lips press against his. He’s hesitant at first, but when I don’t give him the opportunity to pull away, he throws himself into it, kissing me nice and slow like we’re basking in our own private spot in heaven.
Moments later, a shuffle sounds behind us, and Mag tears me away from him. I reach up to touch my swollen lips, knowing Johnny saw that. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt any of them. That’s the last fucking thing I want to do with all of this. Is it naïve to think this is all some divine intervention though? I wasn’t supposed to come to the Heights. These guys definitely don’t fucking belong in the Heights. Yet, somehow, by pure accident of circumstances, we’re thrown together. Five lost people. Five humans with misguided morals and pasts. What if coming together saves all of us?
I pull my big girl panties on and glance over at Johnny. “Ready?”
Determination dawns in his gaze. “I’m always ready when it comes to you, babe. Let me just grab my gun.”
My eyes widen as Johnny goes into the closet to pull out his piece. I never know where he’s hidden the thing. I swear he tucks it away in different places all over the apartment, and I don’t know if it’s on purpose or if it’s just something he does.
“Ready,” Johnny says, brandishing the Glock with a glint in his ice-blue eyes.
Jesus fuck. I may have just declared war between a bunch of guys who are literally weapons in and of themselves.
Despite their spat, Johnny and Mag talk business on the way to my PT appointment, and I’m glad they can put their personal differences aside and still work on Crew shit. With how Johnny acted this morning, I wasn’t sure if he would just fire Magnum, but that’s in the same box as killing him. He can’t do anything to the guys without hurting me, and he won’t do that.
Sly thing, isn’t he?
Johnny traces his thumb over the skin of my hand. “Detective Reynolds was probably following you as much as he was Kyla yesterday. You did punch him.”
Mag’s jaw ticks. “He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with that, though. No cameras, and everyone in that hall would’ve taken my side.”
“Wasn’t there another police officer there, too?” I ask, trying to remember. “Yeah, he handcuffed Oscar.”
Mag smirks. “Apparently, he’s someone who thinks Reynolds is a fucking dick. He also has a brother in the Crew, so...”
I shake my head at how far the Crew’s reach is. Well, I already knew they had the cops in their pockets. Obviously not Reynolds, but they have to have at least someone higher up in their pockets for Big Daddy K to get away with my parents’ murder among the others. “Who’s on our payroll?” I ask as discreetly as I can. This shouldn’t seem weird since I am one of them now. Mag meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. I can’t decipher his look, but I push on anyway. “In the police, I mean. You have people turning a blind eye to illegal activities. Magnum shot someone and didn’t get in trouble for it. Like, who is it? It must be someone big.”
Mag clears his throat. “Technically, I got out of that because their phony witness disappeared.”
Oh, right. I forgot about that.
Johnny stops moving his thumb over my hand. “That’s one of the most closely guarded secrets my father has.”
“So, you don’t even know?” I peek at him, finding that hard to believe. I thought Johnny was involved in everything the Crew did.
“I have my suspicions, but no, I don’t know.”
The finality of his words makes me pause. It doesn’t really have any effect as to why I’m here. I’m here to kill Big Daddy K and get the fuck out. With my guys. I don’t care what happens to the Crew after that. My beef was never with the whole Crew, just the fucker who took my parents from me. I do think it’s crazy that they can get away with so much stuff though.
Mag pulls up to the PT office. I stare at a building filled with windows. They’re not see-through though. They’re the kind that just reflect back whatever is in front of them. So, right now, our car’s profile is mirrored back to me. “I hope this place is better than the last.”
Johnny turns toward me, brows pulling together. “What?”
“Those guys hated me,” I say, actually dreading walking into this new place. I don’t want another repeat of that PT asshole. “Dicks.”
“Who was it?” Johnny grinds out.
I turn to him and pat him on the leg. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. Plus, I can’t really blame him. He thinks I killed a little girl.” Even though the “evidence” against me was shotty at best. Reynolds just wanted to peg me for something, and whoever put my prints on the gun, handed me to him on a silver platter.
“I’m going in with you,” Johnny says.