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Jace gulped. “We... we thought the father would trade Aaron for his son. That he’d let Aaron out of jail.”
“You’re both fucking idiots. Aaron killed a man, Jace. He deserves to be in jail.” Rick’s head jerked sideways, their gazes colliding. Corey didn’t think he’d ever seen so much hate in Rick’s eyes. Jace, on the other hand, was frowning as if confused. “What?” Corey snapped.
“I...” Jace exhaled unsteadily. “I don’t know if you’re mad because we did it or because we didn’t do it right.”
Rick’s eyes narrowed. It was clear that he thought the first one. And he’d be right.
Corey lost his temper. “Both! I’m mad because you tried to kidnap a kid to get fucking Aaron out of fucking jail. I’m mad that Rick let his face be exposed. I’m mad that I have cops sniffing around. Again. And I’m mad that you thought that you had the right to do anything without my permission.”
Jace leaned away, his fear obvious. “What are you going to do to us?”
“What do you think I should do, Jace?”
Jace cowered. “I don’t know. I got us out of there as soon as I could, because people were taking video and now it’s all over the internet. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Will you ever do such a thing again?”
“Oh no,” Jace breathed, like a prayer. “I promise on Mama’s grave.”
That was a big deal in their family. Even though he’d never quite measured up to Aaron in his mama’s eyes, Corey had loved her. She’d done nothing but sacrifice for them her whole life. And then I sacrificed for these assholes, and this is how they repay my generosity.
“All right, then. Come with me.” He walked Jace to the back door of the comm room and unlocked the dead bolt. “Dewey says you’re helping him with Aaron’s boat. Get back to that.”
Jace’s gaze flitted between him and Rick. “What about Rick?”
“Not your business, boy. Go help Dewey. Do as I say.”
Jace squared his wide shoulders. “What are you going to do to Rick?”
Huh. Kid’s tougher than I thought. Time to knock that courage down a few notches. “Not. Your. Business. Go now or I’ll get angry with you. You don’t want me to get angry with you, do you?”
Jace shrank back, just as Corey had hoped. The kid had been on the receiving end of his backhand enough times to know his place. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now go.”
He watched as Jace went down the back stairs, the boy turning a few times to look over his shoulder, uncertainty clear in his expression. When Jace was halfway to Dewey’s workshop, Corey shut and locked the door.
Rick was still sitting, his back ramrod straight, arms folded tightly over his chest. At five-nine, Rick was the smallest of them all. He took after their mother more than the rest of them. Unfortunately, he was also wily and had way too much attitude.
Corey had been trying to beat that attitude out of him for years, ever since he’d returned from the Middle East to find himself a joint guardian of two boys. They’d lived with Aaron then, but Corey had hung around Aaron’s place enough to recognize discipline issues. Rick had only been ten, Jace nine. Rick had been stubborn even then. Didn’t seem to matter how many beatings he took.
Corey grabbed the chair Jace had been using, straddling it so that he faced Rick head-on. “Why?”
Rick lifted his chin with his typical defiance. “I wanted to help Aaron.”
Corey made sure that his smile was nasty. “Because he can’t help you get emancipated from prison.”
The color in Rick’s face abruptly drained away. “What?”
“You want emancipation, I understand.”
“No,” Rick sputtered. “I don’t—” His head flew to one side as the back of Corey’s hand connected with his jaw. He only stayed in the chair because Bobby held him there.
“How’d you know about Cardozo’s son?”
Rick worked his jaw from side to side, his nostrils flaring in rage. “Internet.”
Corey hit him again. “Liar. Ed looked. There’s no sign of Elijah Cardozo on the internet. How did you know?”
