“No. Kieran told him about Vee, that she was mine. Devon, in all his stupidity, thought if he got hold of her it would score himpoints with the DeAngelos. Guess he’s been working for Michael for a while but hasn’t made much of a name for himself.”
“Then how’d he end up with Caroline?”
“Caroline introduced herself to him at that bar. He knew she was there with Vee. At some point he figured a friend of Vee’s would be good enough.” I pick up the whisky bottle and pour another two fingers. “I couldn’t understand him that well toward the end. There was a lot of choking on blood, and it got hard for him to talk after I had his tongue removed.”
“You going to drink that whole bottle?” He asks as I sink back into my chair, the bottle in one hand my glass in the other.
“I’m thinking about it,” I mutter, swirling the liquor before taking a slow sip.
The burn helps. A little.
“You haven’t mentioned Vee.” He points out, sounding casual, but I know my brother. There’s an edge beneath the question.
“Lev texted. He said he dropped her at her apartment without a problem. There’re eyes on her apartment and two men on the street. She hasn’t left her apartment since.” I lift a shoulder.
“Lev mentioned she seemed confused that he didn’t bring her back here.”
I swirl the liquid in my glass, watching the amber catch the lighting. “She’ll be fine.”
He drops his arms to his sides, titling his head, searching my expression like he’s been asked some question that he can’t understand.
“You don’t care all of a sudden?” he snaps.
I take a long sip, letting the burn settle into my chest. “Caring got me in this mess in the first place. Maybe your way is better. One-night stands, playmates, none of this shit happens when you fuck ’ em and leave ’ em.”
A beat of silence passes between us. It’s heavy, weighted.
“She was crying,” he says quietly. “Lev said she was quiet, but he saw the tears.”
My fingers tighten around the glass. I don’t ask if he means from fear or pain or something else. I don’t ask because I’m not sure I want to know.
I’m not sure I don’t already know.
“She’s not your responsibility,” I say, setting my glass down harder than I mean to.
“No,” he agrees. “But she is yours.”
“I don’t need a lecture from you on responsibility.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Our sister has been staying with you for the last two months, and you didn’t know she dropped out of school? She’s obviously seeing someone behind our backs, but you don’t know or seem to give a fuck who it is.” My voice raises as I get to my feet.
“Elana isn’t a child. I didn’t push about her classes because when shit really goes down in her life, she comes to me. And she does that because she knows I’m not going to get crazy on her. She needs one of us to look out for her without crushing her.”
I put a hand up. This isn’t about our little sister. Nothing about the pain crushing my ribs has to do with my brothers or Elana, or anyone else for that matter.
It has everything to do with a woman sitting miles away from me in her tiny apartment, wondering if I’m going to call, if I’m going to show up at her door, or if I’ve given up on her.
“It’s late.”
He eyes me. “If you’re not going deal with her, then you need to let her go.”
“What?” I grip the neck of the whiskey bottle until my knuckles ache.
“You heard me. If you’re done, let her go.”
“Get the fuck out of my house.” I rage, stumbling slightly.
