Page 12 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

I’d been seven when he’d realized that I had a mean right hook and took a beating better than the other boys in our family. Around the same time, Luka rode his tricycle off the roof and into the pool.

So while Luka learned to drive like he was in a Fast & Furious movie, I was put in the ring.

It never hurt to have professional athletes in the family. Trafficking high-profile criminals from country to country was a lot easier if they were part of an international champion’s entourage. I’d once traveled with a 5-person-team of drug lords posing as my massage therapist, my social media manager, my personal chef, my trainer and manager. - The upper hand in the gambling halls was a nice bonus.

“Care to tell me why I need to make a comeback?” I asked. “Smuggling something? Someone?”

“I don’t know,” Luka said.

“I can’t tell if you’re lying to me anymore.”

Luka huffed out a laugh. “You’ve never been able to tell. I just let you think so because we’re brothers.”

“No, we’re not,” I said and left him outside the restaurant.

It would have been completelyreasonable to go to my place after that dinner. I could have taken a shower to wash the steak house stench off and hit the bed. I would wait until breakfast to calmly talk Cordelia through what my uncle’s presence in my life meant for her.

I wasn’t reasonable when it came to Cordelia.

Three locks and one electronic pass code let me inside her house, which was way too quiet and way too dark. Blue light was flickering from the TV room but there was no excited chatter, which would have indicated Delilah being with Cordelia - and there was no noise upstairs, which would have indicated Delilah and Beckett having gone to bed.

The meeting with my uncle had my nerves on high alert, and I quieted my steps as I walked down the hallway to check the other rooms for signs of life. By the time I made it to the TV room, I was mentally prepared for the worst. Instead, Cordelia lay on her back on the sofa, swiping on her phone with one hand, while the other was deep in a bowl of gummy bears. Some nature documentary was running in the background. She tended to listen, not watch.

The tension drained from my shoulders, and I sighed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She wasn’t surprised by my sudden appearance, merely propping herself up on her elbows. “I was waiting for you, silly.” If the empty bottle of rosé on the table hadn’t given her away, the lilt in her words would have.

“Did you drink that by yourself?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the empty wine glass.

“Yeah,” she breathed and shot off the sofa, rearranging her snack bowls to hide the mostly empty gummy bear one, “Del called. They went straight to Beck’s because Brody’s sick. She didn’t want to stay with her friend.”

Whenever Brody’s name came up, my stomach curled with guilt. I’d shot the man that had hurt Cordelia and threatened her life. Julian Beckett. Beck’s brother. Brody’s father. I would shoot him a hundred times over to keep Cordelia safe without feeling guilty, but I had turned that girl into an orphan, leaving her in the care of her uncle. That came with its own kind of guilt, and it hit too close to home.

After tonight, this was just another reminder that my actions would always take a toll on Cordelia. If Brody still had a father, Cordelia wouldn’t have been alone tonight.

Sure, it was only a matter of time before Delilah officially moved in with her fiancé, but tonight… Tonight, she would have been here if it hadn’t been for my actions.

“This goes in the kitchen,” Cordelia mumbled, swinging the empty bottle and glass around. Her lean body was swaying dangerously.

“Here.” I reached for it before she’d fall and hurt herself.

“I need to sit down,” she announced the second I’d taken the things from her, and belly-flopped onto the sofa.

Alright. Any discussion about my uncle’s plans for me was tabled for tonight. I set down the bottle and glass, and walked around the sofa to kneel down in front of the 5’10” blonde mess that had gone all limp. “Feel sick?” I plucked some of the platinum strands from her face. “Need to throw up?”

“Nope,” she sighed in my face. Her breath was sugary sweet from the rosé. “Just tired. Did you know gray wolves mate for life?”

“I didn’t.”

“It was on TV.” One of her arms shot out to point at the flat screen, and I ducked to avoid being punched in the face. “They have six babies every year though.”

“That sounds exhausting,” I said. I’d figured out a long time ago that it was easier to jump on Cordelia’s train of thought rather than trying to keep her attention on the conversation you thought you were having.

“Right?” She pulled her arm back but instead of tucking it back against her side, she wrapped her hand around my shoulder. “Bed?”

“Sure.”