Page 19 of Erik

Staring down at the coffee maker as it dribbled a thick, hot, delicious brew, I gnawed diligently on my bottom lip. Blood drummed steadily in my ears, the swirling on the counter all blending together as my gaze became unfocused. My mind was far away, and a ringing invaded my skull, my eyes watering from the faint urge to blink.

Valerie wasn’t talking to me. She didn’t return my texts or calls, and I was too much of a coward to go upstairs and knock on the door. Illya was working— whatever she did, I wasn’t really sure— and Erik had to go to the precinct for some reason I hadn’t paid attention to.

The droning in my ears loudened, drowning out the coffee pot’s gurgles as my heart beat harder, faster, squeezing painfully. My blood simmered in my veins, tension tightening my legs until it hurt, and my abdomen craped as my breaths became shallow and cold.

“Natasha!” Whipping around, I frowned at the guy leaning over the passenger seat to yell at me from the road, and he frowned, too. “What are you doing out so late at night?”

I thinned my lips, tightening my grip on what few groceries I could afford from that gross, little bodega, but my legs paralyzed with fear. The guy pulled his junky car over with a metallic squeak of protest, and my body grew cold when he climbed out. We were almost the same height, but I was tall for my age, and I didn’t have to tilt my head too much to watch him round the front of the old two-door.

“Need a ride? I’m passing by your place.” My mind screamed at me to say ‘no’, to drop my stuff and run, but this guy knew where I lived anyway. A cold sweat dripped down my neck and I mutely shook my head when my voice clogged my throat. He popped open the door anyway, his short, powerful arms rippling under the hem of his t-shirt. “Hop in.”

“I’m fine walking.” Managing just that, my nerves clearly rippled in my voice, and the guy’s eyes narrowed on me. Shrinking back when he closed the distance between us, I tensed when he grabbed my meager, black bags and gestured to his car.

Anxiety curdled my blood, mingling with defeat as I shuffled to the open door, and I held my breath. The car reeked of weed and my face grew hotter the longer I didn’t breathe. Shutting me in, the guy climbed in the driver’s seat to set my stuff by his feet, holding it hostage, and I inched closer to the door.

“So, your mom knows you’re out this late?” Pulling smoothly away from the curb, he posed his question and glanced at me as I shook my head. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s at her friend’s.” The lie rolled off my tongue thickly and he nodded as prickles raced up my spine. Valerie wasn’t at her friend’s house, of course, but I had to make her seem more trouble than she was worth. The more people she was friends with, the more likely it’d be discovered. At least, that was my hope— that they’d think she was too risky.

“Maybe you can do a little something for me and I’ll give you a little extra. It’s not fair that you do all the work and your mom gets the money. She doesn’t even use it for your place. How about we make a deal? You do for me, and I’ll do for you— on the side.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the blood drained from my face, and I stared hard at the ripped cloth on the dashboard. The guy rifled through my bags absently, and shame tightened my chest. “That’s a lot of junk food. When was the last time you ate a carrot, huh? Tell you what— I’ll take you to a real store and get you whatever you want. Just to be nice. You can think about it, and the next time I’m by, we can talk about it.”

“Just to be nice.” And then, he patted my thigh, and pushed back my hair, and—

“Nat—" Jumping at the call, goosebumps blanketed my body and my head whipped up the sent a sharp ache down my neck. Tensing as Carlyle sat on my table, his feet planted firmly on a chair, I sucked in a sharp breath as black dots clung to the edges of my vision. Propping his forearms on his knees, he held my gaze in an iron grip, and I blinked hard as uncertainty chattered my molars. “You want to talk?”

“N-no . . . no, I don’t. I . . . ” Shaking my head viciously, I tore my eyes off him to cross my arms tightly around myself, and shame engulfed my face. The tiles on the floor moved even though they weren’t supposed to, and I shivered from the anxiety that gripped my spine. “Shit.”

“Do you need to be hospitalized?” Sinking to the floor, I sat against the cabinets and shook my head, but Carlyle was clearly unconvinced if his tone was anything to go by. “I didn’t ask if youwantto, Natasha. You need help, whether you like it or not. As much as I appreciate that you’re Valerie’s sister, I really don’t have time to deal with your mental instability. Mateo is setting up in New York City, and with Oran disappeared, I’m starting the Italian plan over from scratch. I’m not going to come whenever you call. If you need it, I’ll provide you better care than you had last time.”

“Oran had the right idea.” Not acknowledging Carlyle’s little spiel, I sniffled hard as I drew my knees to my chin. “This place is suffocating. I . . . I asked you to come down because . . . I want to leave. Erik asked me on a road trip, and I want to go.”

“Why do you think you need my permission? You’re an adult, and you’ve never been a prisoner here, Natasha.” Carlyle’s eyes narrowed on me as he trailed off, and I frowned against my knees. “Valerie doesn’t know?”

“She’s not talking to me. I’m only here for her, and if she’s ignoring me, there’s really no point. Besides, if I end up dead somehow, I’d rather she didn’t know for a while.” Despair thickened my voice, and my gaze flickered up to catch Carlyle’s as he tensed noticeably. “If it gets too bad, I don’t want her to stop me. I don’t want her to think she could’ve stopped me. You know, Carlyle, she’s never gone this long without talking to me. To be honest, I don’t care if she’s hurt or feeling betrayed or whatever about what happened. She has that luxury.”

“If you’re suicidal, I’ll take precautions.” A small, pitiful smile tilted my lips at that, and Carlyle frowned darkly as he leaned back to hold himself on his arms. His fingertips drummed heavily on the table, and I cleared my throat roughly of the dense lump that blocked my airway.

“You being here is the precaution. You’re here so you can tell Valerie that you tried to offer me help, and I declined, so it’s not your responsibility. It’s okay. I know how it is. The truth is . . . Valerie will be fine. She’ll be sad, but what can she do? Blameyoubecause you’re dating and rich andwhy didn’t you? No, that’s not gonna happen. I wanted to talk to you because I wanted you to know, but I don’t want you to tell Valerie. If she doesn’t ask me directly, you can’t tell her.” Carlyle’s expression pinched, but he jerked his head in a nod regardless, and a weight lifted from my chest. Heaving a massive sigh, I grabbed the counter to climb to my feet, and he was still as I grabbed the coffee pot in a trembling hand. “I spent almost fifteen years sacrificing for her, and she’s fucking ignoring me. Over what? Over the fact that I’m keeping my problem to myself? Is she so betrayed that she can’t stand the sight of me? Well, it’s not anything new— I can’t stand the sight of me, either.”

“Natasha, Valerie isn’t the source of all your bitterness and self-hatred, and I think you know that.” Snorting roughly, I poured my joe into a large mug, and some spilled and sloshed over the edge to splatter on the countertop. Disgust soured my tongue, and I sniffed hard as I jerked my head and swiped my hair away from my face with my free hand.

“Of course, I do. I’mme. But you know what, Carlyle? I don’t know anything about myself. You probably know more about me than I do. Okay, so I have two choices. Either I find a way to accept that I’m a disgusting, emotionally stunted, terrifiedthing.” Tightening my grip on the coffee pot handle, my lip curled as dark determination seared through my chest, and Carlyle’s stare became heavy. Glaring at my reflection in the mug, I ground my teeth together as black seeped into the edges of my vision. “Or I don’t accept it, and at that point, there’s no use living anymore. Death is only painful for those left behind and even then . . . I’ll be dead. It won’t be my problem.”

“You have a point.” Reluctance deepened his baritone, and Carlyle sighed heavily before shuffling to get his feet on the floor. “I won’t tell Valerie, but if she comes to you, you should, Natasha.”

“She won’t.” The air became frosty at my murmur, and Carlyle didn’t say anything more before walking out. Grabbing my burning hot mug, I frowned at my reflection before lifting it to my lips.

20

Erik

“Donald, what’s going on?” Casting a curious glance at my former boss, I leaned on the doorframe to cross my arms as he held up a hand and continued talking on the phone. Ignoring the conversation, I tilted my head as quiet determination permeated the entire squad room. The detectives I’d barely gotten to memorize the names of were all hunched over their desks, and confusion furrowed my brows. This city had a sizeable police force but not nearly as many detectives. There wasn’t much crime here to investigate, probably thanks to Carlyle Santino.

“Erik, come on in. Sorry about that.” Donald set the phone on the receiver to stand, holding out his hand, and I nodded as he shot me a stress-wrinkled, tired smile. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. There was a murder last night. So, you’re here for . . . what, exactly? Your last check should’ve been deposited already.”

“Uh, yeah, no. I came by because I was wondering what day, exactly, you’re going to kick me out of that rental.” Understanding flickered in Donald’s eyes as he sat down, and I gripped the back of the chair across his desk to lean on it slightly. “I’m gonna head back down south for a bit. My parents want me to come see them and stuff. I figured that since I was jobless, I might as well.”

“Good . . . good . . . I don’t blame you for having a bad taste in your mouth after what happened, Erik. It’s even better that this is kinda a backwater, so we can bend the rules a little when it comes down to it. That’s a good thing about being in the shadows of New York City, at least.” Typing away as he talked, Donald squinted at the computer screen, and I ground my teeth lightly in anticipation. Once I knew the date of the eviction, I could let my father know when to expect the truck with my shit in it. “It says here you’re accommodation will be terminated on the twenty-sixth.”