Page 27 of Owen (Blue Team #1)

Owen had moved me across the room and helped me sit before he took his place beside me.

I’m not sure how he maneuvered us. I had no recollection of walking to the couch.

Too much had happened in a short period of time.

All of it heavy, all of it weighing on my chest, making it hard to draw in enough oxygen.

It was a good thing I was now sitting because I was afraid I was going to pass out at any moment.

The only reason I hadn’t was because Owen was beside me, our joined hands resting on his knee, a knee that was pressed against mine.

As a matter of fact, there wasn’t an inch of space between us.

I was grateful for the support. So far the man called Tex hadn’t asked me anything, he’d just recounted what I’d told the guys earlier.

“Do I have that correct?” Tex asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure it was Agent Conor?”

“Um…” I glanced at Owen, looking for guidance but instead, I found soft eyes that made me melt. More support but no help. “The best I can be sure. That’s what my uncle called him. But before that, I knew him as Steel. ”

“Natasha, I’m Cruz Livingston with the San Antonio FBI. Can you describe the man, Steel?”

I would rather not. The guy had been creepy as all get-out and he’d scared the crap out of me any time he was at the house.

I clutched Owen’s hand and allowed myself to remember one of the many times I’d been in Steel’s presence.

“He was tall, really tall, not overweight but beefy. He…um…had brown hair, longish, didn’t hit his shoulders but almost. Arms full of tattoos.

He always looked dirty, like he needed a shower.

Brown eyes. Mean looking. He played the part well, the…

um…undercover part I mean. He scared me, I didn’t like being around him.

Now I feel bad because he was probably a good guy just playing a part and he was really, really good at it.

I would’ve never guessed he was FBI by the way he looked at me. ”

At the time I’d thought the stares he’d aimed my way were salacious, like he wanted to get me alone in a room and not take no for an answer. But now I wondered if he was acting, or maybe trying to ascertain my part in my uncle’s business.

“Tattoos?” Cruz asked. “Can you describe them?”

I could, or at least I could vividly remember one of them.

“He had a naked pinup girl on his right arm. Some sort of vine or barbed wire, I never got close enough to study it but he had one on his back. It was huge. Shoulder to shoulder.” I felt the tremor slide through me, remembering the time I saw Steel without a shirt on.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Natasha, how’d you come to see the tattoo on his back?” Cruz asked.

I tried to pull my hand free but Owen held strong.

I looked down at our combined hands, thinking I loved the way Owen’s engulfed mine. I loved how something as simple as holding my hand could give me courage. But I needed him to let me go .

“I can’t do this unless I turn it off,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off our hands.

“What does that mean?” Owen asked.

“It means you have to let me go. I can’t go where I need to go while you’re touching me. I can’t let the filth touch you.”

“Baby—”

“I can’t, Owen. I have to go into my head and pretend this isn’t my life, this isn’t real. I can’t be her and touch you. This…” I tightened my hand under his. “Is us. This is clean. I need it to stay that way, so while I’m talking about this, I can’t touch you.”

“That’s whacked, Nat.”

“It’s what I need.”

I knew it cost him. I felt the tension rolling off him in angry waves when he loosened his grip and allowed me to slide my hand free.

And the second I did, I wasted no time. The faster I got it out the better.

And just like earlier I slipped into a place where I felt nothing.

All emotions shut down. And Sarah Pollaski was resurrected.

She hadn’t been gone long so it was easy.

So easy I hoped one day she’d be gone forever and I’d never be able to find her.

The shield I’d once clung to now felt ice-cold.

The burden was so heavy I wanted to shed it immediately and find Natasha.

This had to be the last time. I had to give them everything so I could forget.

“My uncle was generous with freebies,” I started. “The caveat was he got to watch.”

“Freebies?” Myles asked.

I ignored the disgust in his tone, mainly because it was disgusting but also because I had to rush through this.

“Yes, his soldiers, suppliers, sometimes even a new client got a taste for free. My uncle called it a teaser. But he got to watch. And freebies were always done in his home office and recorded. Of course, the men didn’t know they were being recorded. ”

“Blackmail,” Kevin interjected and I startled at his voice, not knowing he’d come back inside.

I ignored that, too.

“Yes, blackmail. If the teaser was being given to someone important the girl would be…um…young.”

The vibe in the room changed. Try as I might, I couldn’t disregard the oppressive fury that filled the space.

“Maybe—”

“Go on,” Tex encouraged. But his voice had gone hard and menacing, too.

“So, yes, blackmail.”

I’d totally lost my train of thought and couldn’t remember why I’d brought up the freebies in the first place.

“The tattoo,” Cruz prompted.

Right. Steel’s back tattoo.

“I saw Steel in my uncle’s office getting his freebie.

His shirt was off and his back was to me and he was pumping away into one of my uncle’s girls.

” Owen grunted beside me and I wondered why in the world I’d given that useless tidbit.

“The tattoo covered his whole back. There was a gun in one hand and a severed head in the other. Oh, and the head had a blindfold on. And Loyalty to One was written over the head. I think there were some other letters on the motorcycle guy’s vest but I couldn’t see what it said. ”

When I stopped talking no one said anything. The air was still thick, and my heart was pounding at an alarming rate.

“Does that help?” I asked.

“Steel wasn’t an FBI agent,” Cruz said.

“But, my uncle called him Agent Conor.”

“Have you ever heard the name, Chico Malo?” Cruz went on.

“Yeah. He’s a supplier from Mexico, mostly heroin.”

“ Was a supplier. He’s dead.”

I didn’t know what to say about that, so I said nothing. It didn’t seem like a bad thing to me. A man who ran drugs was dead but for some reason, I got the feeling it was important to Cruz though he didn’t expand on why that was when he continued.

“And you know a man named Axel?”

“I’ve heard the name, yes. Axel was the middleman,” I explained.

“He didn’t hide his business from you,” Tex weirdly commented.

I felt Owen shift next to me and I tried my best to stay in character even though I desperately wanted to reach over and touch him.

But I had to finish this. And not the twenty questions that we were playing, drawing the conversation out.

I needed to lay it out and be done with it.

Done with the Pollaskis. Done with Sarah. Just done .

“They trained me well,” I told Tex. “First my father taught me all I needed to know. As far back as I can remember I knew my place. His lessons were painful, so I learned quick. After my uncle killed my father I thought I’d finally be free.

My uncle hates me, I’d hoped he’d be happy to set me out.

The fallen princess, penniless and homeless.

I wasn’t so lucky. Wilco had plans for me and his training wasn’t painful—it was brutal.

So I learned again and did it fast. I played his game and kept my mouth shut but I sure as hell made it so I won. ”

“Won?” Tex asked.

Without lifting my gaze off the coffee table I scooted away from Owen. I was serious, I couldn’t let the obscenity of my former life touch him. I needed physical distance. I heard Owen’s disapproving grunt but didn’t stop my slide until I was as far from him as the small couch would allow.

“Yes, won. He’d send me out on a delivery, and the package would be light.

Not much, but enough that the buyer knew and would complain.

This happened three times and each time Wilco flew into a rage and used his fists to communicate how unhappy he was.

After the third time, he never sent me on that kind of errand again.

He’d send me to entertain a client and I wouldn’t perform to the client's satisfaction. That happened twice and both times Wilco expressed his displeasure. I knew I would have to contribute to the family. But I would not run his drugs and I would not ever be rented pussy. So I made that so. I know I’m justifying my actions and I don’t mean to, but out of all my uncle’s business dealings, the gambling was the least disgusting.

It was something I could live with. It was illegal, it was wrong, but it wasn’t morally repulsive.

That was what I won—I didn’t have to spread my legs or deliver poison.

I vetted clients but I didn’t have to screw them.

“Wilco knew he had me cowed. He knew I’d never run.

He knew I’d never be doing what I’m doing right now so he conducted business in front of me.

I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know. He has warehouses and an office where he spent a lot of time.

But at home, he spoke freely, he screwed his women, he watched his men screw them, he didn’t care I knew he killed my father.

But for some reason, he cared I saw him kill Steel.

He was wired after that—kept me in the house, no more client dinners, no more games, no more talking.

Then he sold me and now he wants me back. ”

“Not gonna fuckin’ happen,” Owen seethed from beside me and I didn’t need to be touching him to know he was irate.