with people and business. The man in black couldn't shoot me here. Not with all of these witnesses.
I pressed the call button on my steering wheel. "Call 9—" the rest of the number stalled on my tongue as I thought back to the second man. The one that stood between me and a bullet. The man with the bright brown eyes.
Eyes like Jace's.
I remembered the shrine-like vibe I got when I walked into Jace’s house. Every picture in the living room focused on a coarse, unsmiling boy, who became an even coarser, unsmiling man.
He was Jace's uncle.
My Bluetooth system had already given up, but I tapped the button again and said my command without hesitation.
"Call Jace."
The phone rang twice before his deep voice flowed from the speakers like honey.
"I’m not gonna lie—I had to do a double take when I saw you were calling. I'm sure you probably butt dialed me." He paused, probably waiting for me to say something smart.
Suddenly, I forgot how to form sounds and words.
"You there, Vix?"
No longer in motion, the reality of everything that happened in the gas station went full steam ahead. Slamming into me. Pulverizing me until there was nothing left to keep me together.
So I let go.
I sobbed. I screamed. I banged my hands against the steering wheel until the pain was a blistering thing that shouted down the fear. When I quieted, Jace's voice came to me in the darkness. Comforting me.
"I'm so sorry for what I did, Vix. I want to be better. I want to be the guy—"
"This isn't about Mark Benton," I sniffled.
I glanced around me, all alone except for parked cars. All alone. Which meant they could come for me. Finish the job. The movies may be wrong about silencers, but they weren't wrong about the bad guys offing witnesses. I'd seen photographs of crime scenes in my mom's office. People who turned on their bosses and joined her case against their former employers. The men and women who worked with her rarely made it to the courtroom. I saw their final moments in the photos, the walls painted with their brains.
No witnesses.
I started my car. "I think your uncle and some other guy may have murdered someone. I have to get home. I have to be safe—"
"You're safe with me," Jace cut in, his voice strong and fierce. “No matter what.”
I should have backed up and gone to my mother, but something in his voice calmed me. Despite what he'd done, some part of me knew he'd protect me.
"Tell me where you are, Vix."
Chapter Sixteen: Jace
I 'd lived my whole life managing my hatred towards the old woman. The woman that I wasn't allowed to call ‘Grandma’.
It used to sting when she hit me with her words, and after a box of wine was down her throat, sometimes an object. But looking at her now, standing in between me and the exit, standing between me and Vix, a fire hotter than the sun boiled in my veins.
I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Get the hell out of my way."
"And just where do you think you're going, boy?" She didn't budge an inch, crossing her arms.
I opened my mouth to tell her it was none of her goddamn business, but I stalled as I sized up the woman in front of me. Same frail stature, just barely five feet with coal colored eyes. Same twisted scowl that seemed to be permanently nailed to her face when she looked at me. Same uniform, the drab combination like a second skin. But something was different.
Since when did she care if I came or went? Did she catch something and suddenly gave a shit about me? I tightened my jaw. It was too late for that. Nineteen years too late.
"I'm not gonna say it again. Get. The. Fuck—"
"You're going after that girl, aren't you?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "That rich bitch?"
I strode forward, murder carving up every word. "Don't you ever call her that. You don't know a damn thing about her!"
"I know she's a dumb ass bitch who better keep her mouth shut if she knows what's best for her." The old woman let out a scoff of disgust. "Tommy called and asked if she
I pressed the call button on my steering wheel. "Call 9—" the rest of the number stalled on my tongue as I thought back to the second man. The one that stood between me and a bullet. The man with the bright brown eyes.
Eyes like Jace's.
I remembered the shrine-like vibe I got when I walked into Jace’s house. Every picture in the living room focused on a coarse, unsmiling boy, who became an even coarser, unsmiling man.
He was Jace's uncle.
My Bluetooth system had already given up, but I tapped the button again and said my command without hesitation.
"Call Jace."
The phone rang twice before his deep voice flowed from the speakers like honey.
"I’m not gonna lie—I had to do a double take when I saw you were calling. I'm sure you probably butt dialed me." He paused, probably waiting for me to say something smart.
Suddenly, I forgot how to form sounds and words.
"You there, Vix?"
No longer in motion, the reality of everything that happened in the gas station went full steam ahead. Slamming into me. Pulverizing me until there was nothing left to keep me together.
So I let go.
I sobbed. I screamed. I banged my hands against the steering wheel until the pain was a blistering thing that shouted down the fear. When I quieted, Jace's voice came to me in the darkness. Comforting me.
"I'm so sorry for what I did, Vix. I want to be better. I want to be the guy—"
"This isn't about Mark Benton," I sniffled.
I glanced around me, all alone except for parked cars. All alone. Which meant they could come for me. Finish the job. The movies may be wrong about silencers, but they weren't wrong about the bad guys offing witnesses. I'd seen photographs of crime scenes in my mom's office. People who turned on their bosses and joined her case against their former employers. The men and women who worked with her rarely made it to the courtroom. I saw their final moments in the photos, the walls painted with their brains.
No witnesses.
I started my car. "I think your uncle and some other guy may have murdered someone. I have to get home. I have to be safe—"
"You're safe with me," Jace cut in, his voice strong and fierce. “No matter what.”
I should have backed up and gone to my mother, but something in his voice calmed me. Despite what he'd done, some part of me knew he'd protect me.
"Tell me where you are, Vix."
Chapter Sixteen: Jace
I 'd lived my whole life managing my hatred towards the old woman. The woman that I wasn't allowed to call ‘Grandma’.
It used to sting when she hit me with her words, and after a box of wine was down her throat, sometimes an object. But looking at her now, standing in between me and the exit, standing between me and Vix, a fire hotter than the sun boiled in my veins.
I struggled to keep my voice steady. "Get the hell out of my way."
"And just where do you think you're going, boy?" She didn't budge an inch, crossing her arms.
I opened my mouth to tell her it was none of her goddamn business, but I stalled as I sized up the woman in front of me. Same frail stature, just barely five feet with coal colored eyes. Same twisted scowl that seemed to be permanently nailed to her face when she looked at me. Same uniform, the drab combination like a second skin. But something was different.
Since when did she care if I came or went? Did she catch something and suddenly gave a shit about me? I tightened my jaw. It was too late for that. Nineteen years too late.
"I'm not gonna say it again. Get. The. Fuck—"
"You're going after that girl, aren't you?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "That rich bitch?"
I strode forward, murder carving up every word. "Don't you ever call her that. You don't know a damn thing about her!"
"I know she's a dumb ass bitch who better keep her mouth shut if she knows what's best for her." The old woman let out a scoff of disgust. "Tommy called and asked if she
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