Page 84 of His Fury

“Zayn, do not fuck with me,” she warned. “I work very hard to keep you out of jail, and while I cannot change you, I canhelpyou, and as I am still your mother, I canadviseyou when I think you’re being reckless.”

“You work hard to keep me out of jail, and you get paid very well for it. Or have you forgotten who paid for the house you live in? Or the car you drive? How about the four fuckingluxuryvacations you take every year on my dime? Or the insane number of designer handbags you own?” I held the phone tightly. “Do not mess withme, Mom. You work hard, and you get paid well for it. Who Iscrew, as you so eloquently put it, is my business. Not yours.”

“Isla isinnocent.” Her voice lowered, and I heard her breathing slow. “She doesn’t belong in the world we live in.”

My jaw tightened. “Mom?—”

“Listento me, Zayn,” she said sharply. “She’snotthe girl for you. She’s aneventplanner! She lives in a world of teaparties, champagne, and balloon bouquets. She’s a working socialite, for God’s sake.”

“Elixir hosts events,” I reminded her dryly.

“Elixir is a front for something much seedier than event hosting,” she snarled. “Don't do this. Let her go.”

I heard everything she said. Rye had voiced the same concerns but not as strongly. Julian had—well, fuck, I didn’t care what he thought; he was the reason they took her.

“Zayn?”

“I hear you,” I told her truthfully.

“And?”

“Not happening.” I hung up.

I was keeping Isla. Everyone else could fuck off.

Rye was in the office, checking his gun. His movements stopped when I walked in. “What?”

“Just had a phone call.”

He resumed what he was doing. “Who’s brave enough to put the glint of murder in your eyes?” he joked.

“Gillian McCabe.”

He snorted. “Ah, how is Mommy McCabe?”

“Pissed.” I cocked my head as I watched him. “Someone told her about Isla.”

Rye didn’t even balk. “Julian? Spineless fucker.”

I shook my head as I looked away. “I’m really enjoying this side of you,” I told him. “This petty little jealous act you have going on.”

“The guy’s a dick.” Rye didn’t blink as he spoke. “Always has been, always will be. I wonder what he has over you because there’s no way you put up with his shit for so long unless he has something on you.”

I looked down on the pretense of picking up my own gun. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Bullshit.”

I looked up and met the hard stare of my right-hand man.

“I’ve seen you cut people off a lot quicker, but he gets to hang around. Never made any sense.” He rubbed his jaw. “Ithasto be blackmail of some sort. Or…has it always been about Barnie?”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” I reminded him. “And I’ll tell you what I said then. Leave it.” I turned to the door. “Where are we going, and how long will it take?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then, with a shake of his head, he tucked his gun away and followed me out of the office. “Not far, I reckon it’ll take an hour tops.”

“Sounds good.”

“Where’s your change of clothes?” he asked as we descended the stairs to the lower level.

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