Page 248 of Chaos Kills

“Thought I’d find you here,” he mutters quietly, closing the door shut.

My brother isn’t stupid. He knows Bay is a safe haven in my head.

I holster my gun and return to watching her sleep.

“You comin’ home?”

“No.”

“You and Torin—” I cut my gaze to him, silencing his next peaceful protest about what I should and shouldn’t be doing.

I trust Cairo, I do.

However, Torin crossed a line, and until he proves himself worthy again, I’m not apologizing.

Shit, I’ll never apologize for that.

“Did you tell her?” I shake my head and slice my attention back to her, amazed she hasn’t awoken yet. Not that Cairo is being loud, but, I don’t know, I thought she’d sense something. Like another man in her room who could hurt her. “Don’t.”

I quirk a brow because I wasn’t expecting that answer.

Normally, Cairo wants to be all truthful and out in the open, but maybe he’s starting to learn that said veracities can cause more harm than good.

“She has enough on her plate. We’re not going to get that video. De Leon isn’t a fucking fool.”

I’ll get it.

I plan on sneaking into his little studio apartment and ripping it out of his throat if I have to.

“We’ll see,” I deadpan before Cairo stands in front of me, blocking my view and demanding my attention.

“Any ideas you have in that brain of yours about headin’ out alone, get rid of ’em.” He glowers down at me, but it’s ineffective at this point because I’m used to rolling on my own and answering only to myself. “This comment requires an answer.”

“We have to try.”

“Together.” I cock my head to the side because that word isn’t going to include my cousin. “I said together.”

I roll my eyes and inhale a deep breath. I’m not going to deal with him right now and argue while Bay is trying to sleep.

I never argue to begin with anyway.

“What are you doing here?”

Cairo’s shoulders relax. “I came here to make sure you both were okay. I’ll text you in the morning.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, leaving Bay’s room and allowing me back my solace.

Bay is too deep into this whole mess, and I hate it.

FIFTY-SIX

bay

I’m beginningto hate the day Friday.

Not only is it because I have to sit with Emilio Wildes and play Daughter of the Year, but because I’m surrounded by men who have been labeled as ex-boyfriends with chips on their shoulders and bruised egos.

There’s nothing worse than an emotionally distraught man.

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