Page 20

Chapter Twenty

Atlas

I scowled through the glass doors as Chelsea and Otis Skinner talked.

"They look cosy," Jay said from beside me.

He looked as irritated as I felt, his jaw clenched tight.

"They're—" I started, my face heating with anger.

He held up his hands. "I know they're not. I meant she's doing a good job looking like they are. I'd be a nervous wreck."

He looked ready to punch me if I came at him.

I wouldn't. I never had. I must have looked angrier than I thought.

"No, you wouldn't." I blew a couple of breaths in and out, calming myself. Okay, trying to. I didn't want to be angry at him, especially for something so stupid. I misinterpreted what he meant. That was my bad.

Seeing Chelsea so close to the enemy made me want to lose my shit. I wanted to run in there, push him in the pool and hold him under until his body went still. Dominic King with him. As well as anyone else who thought they could fuck with my woman.

"I'm sorry." Jay took a step back. "I didn't mean to stir the pot."

"You didn't, it's me," I said. "I'm edgy as fuck right now. When this started, it was just you and me and that was bad enough. Now everyone is getting dragged into it. I can't…" I shook my head. "I can't keep everyone safe. I don't know if I can keep you safe, or her."

I looked back to her as she smiled at something Skinner said. It wasn't her sincere, genuinely happy smile, but him making her smile at all pissed me off. I didn't care if it was fake; it still drove me crazy.

It occurred to me they might ask her to sleep with him. That thought enraged me more than anything else.

The thought of her fucking so many men before I came along was bad enough, but anyone else except us touching her now… I wanted to rip him apart so he couldn't go near her. There was no way in hell I was letting his cock anywhere near her pussy. Her body belonged to us. She belonged to us. End of story, no matter what the consequences were. Even if we all ended up dead, it would be better than letting her be fucked by him.

"I've noticed," Jay said. "So am I. On edge, I mean."

That made me stop and look over at him. "I know you are. I should have tried to keep you out of this." I should have tried to keep all of them out of this. If I hadn't been so quick to kill Bruce Fergus, maybe I could have.

I was thinking clearly at the time, but hadn't thought it all the way through, or I might have let him live. Chelsea would have ended up working somewhere else, away from the craziness. We'd still be together, I'd make sure of that, but she wouldn't be standing there right now, having a conversation with someone who would kill us without hesitation.

Jay snorted. "Yeah, right. How would you have done that? I'm involved because I wanted to be involved. Remember? I can think for myself, you know."

He seemed annoyed, defensive, the vein in his forehead throbbing. Like somehow I was treating him like a kid. I knew plenty of people in his past did exactly that. I always tried not to. He hadn't been a kid for a long time. Just because he was on the spectrum didn't mean he deserved to be treated like one. He was intelligent, loyal and devoted to the game.

I meant it when I said he was special. He was one of the best people I ever met. I wanted to kick myself for making him feel otherwise.

"I know you can." I put a hand on his shoulder. "You're right, you would have been up to your eyeballs, no matter what I said. If I hadn't come, you would have left me behind."

"Naw, I wouldn't." He put a hand over mine.

"We're in this together. You, me, Chelsea, Frost and the others. No one is responsible for anyone else, or everyone else. Not even you."

"Not even Storm?" I asked jokingly.

"Not even him," Jay agreed. "He's a bossy prick, but we still have minds of our own. Most of us anyway." He managed a grin.

"You definitely do," I said.

I gave his shoulder a squeeze and dropped my hand to my side.

"What do you think of all of this?" I should have asked him that sooner.

"I think I'd like to go for a swim," he said. "That water looks inviting." He slid a look towards Skinner, his expression suggesting he was thinking the same thing I was.

"It does," I agreed. "But you don't need to be the one to do it."

"Maybe I want to?" he suggested.

"It seems like a rite of passage." He could have been talking about giving someone a wedgie, or filling their locker with confetti.

The usual dumb things people used to do when hazing was allowed.

Now, they were relegated to practical jokes amongst friends, and then used with discretion.

They weren't on the same playing field as killing people.

"It's not," I said. "Trust me, it's not something you want to start doing." Every time I killed someone, I felt like I gave up another piece of my soul. I didn't regret it, but it ate away at me anyway.

Reminding me I was human, more or less.

"I might have to," he said.

"If I do, then I do. I'm not afraid of it." He lifted his stubbled chin defiantly. Braver than I might have been if the tables were turned. If I knew then what I know now, I would have given serious thought to walking away before I made my first kill.

I fixed him with a steady look. "You should be. It shouldn't be a thing you look forward to doing."

"What if I am?" he asked.

He looked anxious now, his eyes averted to the side of my face.

"It won't change how I feel about you," I said quietly. "But I promise, it will change how you feel about yourself. I don't want that for you."

"Do you want it for Storm?" he asked.

"I don't want it for anyone," I said. "Not even him. Not even for Otis Skinner or anyone like him. It fucks you up. It starts to make you think like it's a solution to every problem when it's not."

Okay, that depended on the problem, but I couldn't kill everyone who pissed me off, or there'd be no one left. I'd start with people who pulled out of the side streets in front of my car, then go really slowly. Next up would be anyone who pushes in line. I really hated when people did that.

"You can't change it if it has to happen," he said.

"I know, but I'll be there for you if it does," I said. "I'll be there for Chelsea if she has to do it, too." I knew she liked all of this even less than I did. I hated that she'd been dragged back into this when she'd worked so hard to get out and make her own life.

As far as I could tell, it was inevitable, in spite of what she thought or wanted. She was a mafia princess, even if she didn't want to admit it.

"Will you be there for Storm?" Jay asked. "If it fucks him up, will you be there to hold his hand?"

"If I have to," I said. I didn't think he'd want me to. He was the kind of guy who'd hide behind a mask, pretending he was fine when he wasn't. When he was alone, he'd quietly fall apart. He'd try to, anyway. Now, he had us to look out for him. Whether he liked it or not.

"I'm not going to kiss his boo-boo better," I added. "He has Chelsea and Frost for that."

Jay grinned. "I think he'd kick your ass if you tried to kiss his boo-boo."

"I'd kick my own ass," I said. "I'm particular about whose boo-boo I kiss."

"Me too," Jay agreed. "Although, Storm has a nice-looking boo-boo." He raised his eyebrows and gave me a sly look, deliberately stirring the pot.

"Should I be jealous?" I asked jokingly. As if I ever had reason to be jealous of Storm Keller.

"Naw, I like yours better," he said. He turned from me to look back at Chelsea. "Speaking of cute boo-boos, it looks like they're done in there."

I followed his gaze. Chelsea walked away from Skinner, her back rigid. She looked as though she was having the same thoughts as us. She could turn around now and give him a quick shove?—

She didn't. She walked to the door and pushed out, smiling when she saw us. She kept walking until we were around the corner and out of sight of Skinner.

"Hey." She gave us a quick kiss each, trying not to display too much affection in our workplace. For far too many reasons, it was better not to draw too much attention to us.

"You good?" I put a hand on her lower back and guided her towards the elevator.

"Yeah," she said. "Doctor Skinner has some interesting theories. Some that could be quite beneficial to the team." She spoke lightly, like she was genuinely impressed, and the conversation went well. As if it was nothing more than one professional consulting with another. As if one conversation couldn't get people killed.

"Others not?" Jay guessed, keeping it vague.

"Let's say he has some interesting ideas," she said. "I look forward to learning more."

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. We stepped inside and waited for them to close behind us. Only once they had, I put my arm around her. She leaned against me, giving and taking comfort.

On the outside, she was tough as hell, but on the inside she needed all the support she could get. Like the rest of us, she used a mask to pretend she was okay when she wasn't. Here, when it was only the three of us, she didn't need to pretend.

"What the hell?" I asked.

In a handful of sentences, she told me about her conversation with Ramsey, then with Otis.

"Fuck," Jay whispered. "They don't mean coerced, do they? They mean kill. Coach Stanley is the best coach the Smashers ever had."

"They don't care about winning," she said. "Not rugby, anyway. The team is just a means to an end. A cover for what they're really doing."

"We can't get him involved," I said. "As far as I know, he has no idea about any of this."

"If it's the only way to bring down the enemy…" Jay said slowly.

I stared at him, and shook my head. "That's where it starts. Innocent people like him get involved and then everything is fucked."

"What choice do we have?" Jay asked. "If he asks Chelsea and Ice to do something to him to prove their loyalty, what are they supposed to do?"

I held Chelsea tighter. "I don't know. What would Ice do?"

"He wouldn't like to torture an innocent man, but if it was necessary in order to bring down Otis, Dominic King and Carlos Jones, then…" She looked like she was struggling to hold herself together.

"Does he need to be tortured?" I said slowly. "They might just want him killed and gotten out of the way."

She looked at me, blue eyes glistening. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying, I have an idea. In the meantime, we have to act normally. Relax and wait until things play out. You're finished for the day, right?"

She nodded. "Right."

"Good, then let's go home."