Page 72 of A Dirty Business
“I’m asking about your families.”
“Our families are none of your business.” His tone matched mine, becoming serious.
I bristled. “DoesVivknow what business your family is in?”
“If you think Viv’s family doesn’t have connections as well, you’re not the jaded PO that I’m assuming my best friend is banging.”
I started for him but caught myself.
He stepped back, his eyes flashing. One of his hands lifted, but his head moved again, going the other way. “I struck a nerve? Or maybe you haven’t screwed yet.”
“I’m thinking that’s none of your business.”
“Trace isn’t just my best friend. He’s my brother. He’s more family to me than my real family, so yes, a certain parole officer who is leading him around and toying with his emotions most definitely is part of my business. In every sense of the word.” His eyes chilled. “Amusing as this conversation has been, I need to impress upon you not to fuck with my best friend anymore. I don’t enjoy him suffering.”
Well, holy fuck.
I took a step back. “Are you kidding me? He’s in my business, in my family’s business, finding me when I’m doing art, and I haven’t done a painting in goddamn years. ButI’mfucking withhim? Who the fuck do you thinkyouare?”
He smirked. “I’m fairly certain you know exactly who I am.”
“You might want to be careful who you’re threatening here.”
“Because you’re a PO?”
“Because while you think you know me, at the end of the day, you have no idea who I actually am.” I lowered my voice.
So did he. “Get out of my face, while I’m not feeling murderous right now.”
I reacted without thinking. That was a threat and, tossing my drink, my hand went for my weapon. I always wore it, or at least most of the time. At the same time, someone screamed, and suddenly someone else was at our side. A hand closed over mine, and goddamn, I knew whose hand that was.
Trace pressed in, keeping my weapon where it was, and he spoke fast. “I don’t know what the fuck you two just got into, but it’s over. Ashton, walk.”
“Tra—”
“Walk!” He didn’t wait. Moving so he was blocking my view from his best friend, his eyes drilled into mine. “I’m going to let go of your hand, and I’m going to back up and give you space. Don’t shoot me.”
He did as he said, his hands in the air a little bit.
I breathed in, reeling that Trace was here.
My hand was tingling.
He stopped two steps back. “You okay?”
I looked away, swallowing over a lump in my throat. “He threatened me.”
“He tends to do that.” He took a step toward me.
I shook my head, moving backward myself.
He stopped. “Okay, okay. I’m not coming any farther, but I suggest we get out of here or move where we don’t have so many eyes on us. People know us here, and there will be talk. I’d like to head off any talk before I get a phone call from my uncle. You hear me?”
He was right.
Goddamn, he was right.
I was still half reeling from what had almost happened.
