Page 104 of The Deceptions
“In?” he hums again, rubbing at his chin. “Something like that. Seems we might need to recruit the kid?” A bone-chilling smile crosses his lips, sending goosebumps down my flesh. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what we need to do, Old Chap! Recruit that guy.” The way he emphasizes guy has me rearing back.
Listen, I don’t judge others' preferences. Unless they’re a disgusting pedo, then off with their fucking heads and light them on fire. But Mal? He’s never shown interest in anyone sexually. Not an ounce. Until that chick at the bar. And now, this guy? Did he suddenly awaken his dick and now it stands for everyone? I’m going to have to watch him closely, so he doesn’t get himself into any trouble. Or his dick.
Ugh.
Sometimes being a keeper is harder than it sounds.
“Recruit?” I ask, fiddling with the cigarette behind my ear. “You want him in, then?” Honestly, it’s something I already offered the guy.
“Keep an eye on him, Keeper. He’ll be important in the future.” He squares his shoulders, showing off his mass of muscles. The tattoos are etched on every inch of his flesh and flex under the glow of the fluorescent lights hanging above us.
Fuck.
“I’m not your keeper,” I groan when Malic simply grins at me again.
“Don’t deny your label, Wilder.” He slaps my shoulder a few times, knocking me forward. “And get your head in the game. You’ve got a brother to decimate. A little blood to spill. Can you taste it? It’s in the air!” He leans in, putting his forehead against mine with ragged breaths. “Victory is ours, Old Chap.”
Mal steps back with that familiar grin plastered on his face. Whatever mood he was in before has slipped away and transformed him back into himself.
I crack my knuckles. I’m still in disbelief that my brother agreed to this. A fight? Really? He’s not so much as looked at me since he was carted away into foster care and left me behind to pick up the pieces.
“Speaking of...” I trail off, dragging my phone out of my pocket. “Bobby texted. He’s got something for us to look at.” Iquickly show Malic the text message, and his expression drops. It’s been over a week since Meredith disappeared. No word. No sightings. I’m beginning to think the fucking worst about the situation. Not only for her, but Mal, too. He’s circling the damn drain with his sanity creeping in and out. He can only distract himself for so long before he snaps.
“When?” His shoulders square, and all humor drops from his expression.
“Monday. Nine PM at the casino.” I lift a brow; he knows what’s coming next: Bobby’s payment. He doesn’t do shit for free, and he knows exactly who we work for because he associates with the same man.
Mal cracks his neck a few times and then nods. “You think...” Mal isn’t one to get emotional. He lashes out in anger, mostly. Punching things he shouldn’t be punching. But that’s why we’re here: to alleviate the pain of losing his sister. The only blood relative he was able to track down.
“He’ll have something for us. If he didn’t have something, he wouldn’t have texted and told us to come by. “
Mal nods a few times. “He better. She can’t just...disappear.”
“No, she can’t. There has to be some sort of trace of her. Somewhere. Even if she ran away. Cameras are everywhere.”
I firmly believe that. Cameras are on every corner in this town, detecting the activities of its citizens. If it’s not Franco—the man who thinks he’s in charge—or our boss, then it’s the police attempting to catch us. Although, in the venture, I don’t think they’re very fucking helpful. She’s an adult in her early thirties. She’s allowed to leave town. Yeah? What about her apartment? Why is nothing missing? Even her purse, keys, and phone were left behind. She didn’t just walk out of her apartment door and decide it was all too much. She was a nurse, for fuck’s sake. She had a stable job. Unlike us. We’re the ones who should want to disappear. Working under a man whoremains in the damn shadows and depends on us and his other men to get shit done.
To keep Mal grounded, I tiptoe around him on the subject of Meredith. I don’t want to confirm his worst fears by telling him mine. He’s already too much in his head about it. Stalking the damn bar she was last seen at and trying to intimidate everyone in sight to give him the answers they don’t have.
I’m losing faith we’ll find Meredith alive.
Fuck.
My eyes swing to the double doors when Hux and Mack come through. Mack looks absolutely pleased with himself, and I roll my eyes. Spoiled ass, little fucker. He’s never known the struggle. Ever. Mom lost him when he was ten and I was eleven. But me? Oh, I had to stay. All because the little prick opened his mouth about our living conditions to Franco. And of course, wanting to look like a knight in shining armor, Franco had the state take care of it and transfer Mack’s care to him. We both grew up under the same roof for many years, yet the state took him while I was left to rot with the woman who couldn’t even make dinner without assistance. She’s always too doped up to fucking care about us. Me, mostly. So, why do I continue to support her? Or care?
Because you’re her oldest son. The only one who stayed around and cared. And despite the bad times we’ve had, she didn’t use to be this way. She used to care before her boyfriend screwed her over.
I guess that’s the price I pay. The role I was given in life. Taking care of everyone else but myself.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I sigh.
Egg Donor
Jackson! I need you. This is a 911!!
Why doesn’t that surprise me? Sometimes I wonder how she’s still mobile and able to get to her phone. They should have taken it from her by now.
I squeeze my eyes shut, counting to ten in my head. If I don’t answer her, she’ll continue to text and call nonstop until she gets what she wants. Probably food. Or company. Or she forgot where or who she was. Again.
