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He decided she was angry and upset. He needed to make things better. Fast. “I didn’t mean to trick you, Livie. I swear. The fights are fixed. Sucre decides how long they last, so he can cash in on his bets. I could have taken the guy down quickly, but I had to make it last.” His jaw tightened. “I had to let him hit me. By the time I’d been in there long enough, I could barely pull out the win.”
The horrified expression on her face warmed his heart. “He forced you to—How long? How long did he make you stay in there?”
“Twenty-two minutes.”
Her face darkened as she considered his words. Minutes passed before she finally spoke. “You’re a toy to him. A tool he uses to line his pockets and build his empire. It doesn’t even matter what it does to you along the way.” She didn’t even know the worst of it. “You hurt people. You kill people.”
Shit. This was it. The truth of who he was—what his life was like—it was finally sinking into her brain. The blood drained from his face. He was going to lose her, but he wasn’t going to lie. “Yes.” He locked his muscles, steeling himself for rejection.
“You do it forhim. Why don’t you do it for yourself? Kill him and be done with it all.”
It took a moment for her words to make sense. “You mean, why haven’t I killed Sucre?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flashed as her fingers gripped his thigh. “If he were dead, you would be free.” Her lips thinned. “I’d do it myself if I could. I won’t lose another person I care about.”
She looked like she meant every word and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Taking somebody’s life puts a stain on your soul you can never get clean. I don’t ever want you to know how it feels.” He rested his worthless hand on top of hers. “You don’t know what it means to me you want to protect me. No one else ever has. I need you to hear me, though. You’ve got to stay far away from Sucre. Promise me, Livie. If he got his hands on you, both our lives would be over.”
“What kind of life do you have now? You act like he owns you, but you’re strong. You’re powerful. Why don’t you crush him or at least run?” Olivia pulled her hand away and stomped to the kitchen. She put some ice in a towel, then yanked a glass-bottled drink out of the fridge and popped it open. It wasn’t until she returned, he could see the label. She’d brought out one of those fruity Hard Lemonade drinks. She handed him the ice, and he held it to his left eye.
“You didn’t promise.” Did she think he wouldn’t notice?
She took a long pull of her drink. “Fine. I promise.” She plopped back down on the sofa. “It’s not as though I would be able to kill someone anyway. Even if he does deserve it.”
“It’s not as simple as killing him.” He’d fantasized about it plenty, though. “If something happens to Sucre, someone will kill my grandmother. I’m not Sucre’s only muscle, you know. I’m the best, but the boss has made it very clear he has people in place to execute his final wishes. He sends me pictures of her almost every day to remind me. Once, he sent me a piece of her fucking nightgown. If I run, she dies. If I kill him, she dies. Otherwise, I’d have taken the sick fucker out years ago.”
The cold, hard pressure of the ice against his face sent sharp spikes of pain into his head, but he pushed down the discomfort. “I’ve done so much to keep her safe, I can’t give up now. It has to mean something. She’s comfortable now, but she’s still exposed. I can’t get her free until I save enough money to get her in a good facility, somewhere Sucre can’t get to her. My goal was fifty thousand. I always thought I’d go with her, start my life over somewhere. Now, with you—”
He sighed. “If I stay here, there needs to be enough money to take care of her the rest of her life. And I have to figure out which assholes at Magnolia Green are on Sucre’s payroll. If the wrong person tips him off I’m pulling her out, we’ll both be dead before we’re out of the city.”
The corners of her mouth drooped as she set her drink on the coffee table. “Do you have any happy memories? Has this man stolen your entire life from you?”
He set the ice in his lap, then used his palms to pick up the drink and take a sip. It tasted like almost pure corn syrup. Gross. He cringed as he put the ice back on his face. “I can’t blame him for every bad thing in my life. My dad was an addict. He would’ve been an addict whether Sucre was his dealer or it was some other guy on the street. Kids with a drugged-out parent always have it rough. There’s never enough money, never enough food.” He shrugged. “But there were some good times. Before my mom died, sometimes she’d sing to me or take me to the park. She worked a lot, but I loved her.”
He furrowed his brow, trying to grasp a memory. “One time, she bought me a little red toy racecar. I must have been about six or seven. I was so proud of that thing. I carried it everywhere.”
“Do you still have it?”
He shrugged. “My father stepped on it barefoot in the middle of the night once. Threw it against the wall. I should’ve put it somewhere safe.”
Olivia’s eyes were wet, but her tears didn’t fall. He was grateful for the small mercy. Her tears might break his heart in a way he’d successfully avoided for years.
She nestled back into his side, her hand resting over his heart. In minutes, her breathing shifted to the heavy rhythm of sleep. It was after two o’clock. The poor thing was exhausted.
Climbing to his feet, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her room. The bed was a double; it would be a tight fit, but they could both squeeze in. He noticed the indention on the right side of the mattress, so he placed her there and climbed in beside her. He barely had to wait a second before she rolled up next to him, curled against his side.
He had never slept with anyone before. He’d had sex, sure, but he’d never spent the night in a woman’s bed.
As Olivia tangled her smooth legs with his and threw her arm across his waist, he was glad she’d be the first. Somehow, he suspected it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.
