Page 20

Chapter twenty

Colt

W hen I wake up, Maddox is gone. There’s no sign of her anywhere that would make sense, but before I get out of bed to search the condo, I decide to check the security footage. Everything should be back up and running after Uncle Ricky finished up last night.

A few taps later, I find the video I need. There she goes in a white gym tee she must’ve stolen from my closet—or worse, my dirty laundry. I hope it’s not the latter. She’s sexy as hell doing the walk of shame in my tee and her leather skirt. I love that even from the security camera, I catch glimpses of her black corset bra. My brain memorized the way her supple breasts filled that bra when she undressed last night.

Pee boner, fuck me. Why did I do that to myself? If I get up, I’m not going to let myself get back into bed and rot the day away.

My lips turn up into a sinister smile. I’ll return to the scene of the crime. Right after I delete this footage of Maddox from our internal storage, the backup server, and slip into the monitoring company undetected to erase it from their storage server as well. Perks of my time spent working for Uncle Ricky. Anything he needed, I had to learn how to do, and I had to do it perfectly. It was the only way to earn his respect. I’ve acquired plenty of skills to solve most of my problems.

Uncle Ricky sent me several texts last night, ordering me to lie low. I have the next week off from work, and his guys are looking into everything. It sounds like an opportunity to get some extra game time in. I’m sure Kyler already knows I won’t be in and she’ll be working with one of the goons, if she’s working at all. It wouldn’t be the first time the FAFO employees took over. When Kyler messages me back, she confirms team fuck-around-and-find-out has officially filled the schedule this week, per Uncle Ricky’s instructions.

Fuck. Maddox left, and Thursday night was my one shot at seeing her again. I should probably take the hint that she crept off immediately after waking up instead of sticking around for breakfast and a repeat, but I can’t blame her. Last night was a lot to take in. There’s no way Uncle Ricky’s F-list goons are going to let me get anywhere near the bar on Thursday.

Last night still spins in my head as I finally drag myself out of bed, the weight of a new dilemma pressing down. I trudge to the bathroom, run through the motions. A quick shower clears some of the haze, and I pull on sweats and a T-shirt, bracing for whatever comes next.

Today is the start of a week-long vacation, and Uncle Ricky told me to keep a low profile, which means no extra work until he gives the all-clear. Something’s fishy, and if the bar’s a target—or more specifically, if I’m a target or Aidan is—then the most logical possibility is someone connected to our parents’ murder. I know their file from memory, so I open an incognito window and type in all the names of people arrested in connection with the murder and manipulation of police evidence to frame me. A few of them are out on parole recently. I screenshot each one. Something to come back to later—except later doesn’t feel like an option. I impulsively send the photos to Uncle Ricky. His reply is almost immediate: We already have eyes on all of them. Stay out of this. lay low.

It’s going to be hard to stay out of it if I’m a target. I’m older, wiser, and my moral compass is way more broken now compared to almost fifteen years ago. If someone wants to come back to finish me off, I’m not going to hold back. My fist clenches at my side, but there’s nothing I can do. My stomach rumbles. I guess I should make myself something to eat before I set up an epic gaming experience in the living room. This would be so much more fun if my brother was trapped here with me, but even though I’m about to be lonely as hell for a week there’s a part of me that’s really glad Aidan’s out of the country for a few more days.