“Oh, that?” I shrug. “He grabbed my wrist, but he’s been taken care of. Carter surely did—”
Shit.
Mentioning that name was a huge fucking mistake.
“Carter?” Marc tilts his head, the scrutiny blatant.
“New friend. Anyway, he was threatened, quite graphically, if I might say so myself. So, I’m sure he’ll leave me alone for a while. Long enough for me to formulate a plan that will secure my freedom from him and his family’s consequences,” I explain, removing the coveralls I’m wearing and throwing them into the same flames Cohen burns in before Marc shuts the heavy door.
“Scar.”
“Yes?”
“You’re grinning like a teenager in love.”
What?
“No, I’m not! Stop it. I’m just feeling better after murdering this asshole.” I gesture a bit too enthusiastically at the cremator.
“Who’s Carter?”
“Seriously. Just leave it. It’s not important.”
“Does he know what you do? What wealldo?” he insists.
“We’re not that close. Like I said, he’s just a new friend.”
Who wants to punish me, potentially fuck me, and murder me.
“Also,” I continue, “why would you assume I would share what either of us does? The only reason Bernard knew of the family business was because of his father’s connection with Dad. Even then, I never sharedthis.” I gesture wildly around us. “Only the family knows. Clearly, I’m not going to share this with one of the lead—”
Fucking hell, Scarlet, shut your damn mouth!
I take a deep breath in before I continue.
“My new friend.”
“One of the what?” Marc raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lip twitching upward.
“I have to get home. I have a job tonight.”
If he keeps pushing, I’m gonna end up accidentally telling him who I’m talking about. He has this knack of getting all the gritty details out of me. If he finds out I have a weird involvement with one of the men at the head of The Sanctum, he’s gonna fucking flip. Then he’ll tell Dad.
I may be an independent woman, despite living on my dad’s land, but I don’t like upsetting him.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad there was someone there to threaten that piece of shit. Especially if he dared put his hands on you.” He walks over and pulls me into a tight hug. “Now, go start the cleanup in your little murder den. I’ll join in a minute once all is set up here.”
“Love you, big brother.”
“Love you too.”
The gods blessed me, really. For someone like me to be born into a family who accepts me, understands me, and helps me is quite a lucky thing. Well, most of the family, anyway, minus the one who calls herself my mother. My brother was the one trying to fight my battle when I was a kid. It was he who saw my inner rage first. It was also he who outed my mother to Dad when he realized what she was doing.
I’m lucky.
And Bernard Camora is not fucking taking this away from me.
I’ll crush him before he gets the chance.
