I bang on the door. Fist after fist after fist.
Please be home!
And when it finally opens, he takes one look at me and goes completely still, eyes filled with rage.
“What happened?”
“He tried to touch me. Mom’s boy-boyfriend.” I will my heart to stop beating so fast. “I hit him, then I ran here. I’m sorry!”
“Em.” He grabs my shoulders and looks right at me. “I’m your big brother.I’mthe one who’s sorry. This ends today.”
Relief washes over me, and I throw my arms around him, finally letting out all the suppressed emotions, crying against him as he holds me for I don’t know how long.
When I’m calmer, he grabs his keys from the foyer and growls, “Get in the car.”
I know where he plans to go and what he plans to do. I should try to stop him. But I don’t want to. And once Nate’s made up his mind, there’s no stopping him anyway.
He drives fast. The kind of fast that makes the tires scream when he brakes in front of the house. He kicks the door open without a word, and we step inside.
Lloyd is still on the sofa holding a rag to his head when his eyesconnect with Nate’s, then mine. And for the first time since we met, there’s real fear in his eyes.
“Go pack your shit. You’re done here.” Nate doesn’t look at me as he says that, his attention on the man who tried to hurt me, and I know what’s gonna happen as soon as I head for my room.
I don’t watch the whole thing, but I hear it. The grunts. The smack of fists against bone. The begging. And when I finally come back out, a duffle over my shoulder, Nate’s knuckles are split and bloody, his chest heaving.
Lloyd is on the floor next to Mom, his face bruised and unrecognizable.
“You’re with me now. No one’s gonna hurt you again.” He takes the duffle from me and we head back into his car.
Maybe this hell is finally over. No more filthy hands reaching for me in the dark. No more needles in the cushions. No more Mom screwing random guys in the kitchen.
Just me and Nate.
After I got out of there, I thought I could forget that part of me, but that never happened. We can’t outrun our past. Scars are lullabies for the broken, always singing the name of the person you tried to kill inside you.
My phone buzzes, ripping me out of the past. When I find Konstantin’s name on the screen, I force myself to focus.
Konstantin
Need you to log on to my computer. Use code Lev459821 to get in, then open the folder named Odessa Holdings that’s on my desktop. There’s a spreadsheet. Send me the account number at the top.
Tessa
On it.
The leather of his chair sighs beneath me as I sit. I tap the keyboard, and a password prompt appears. I type in the code, knowing exactly who Lev is just as the computer grants me access.
And just like that, I’m inside. I locate the folder he mentioned, open the spreadsheet, and send him the account number.
Konstantin
I should be done here in thirty, then I’ll need some additional spreadsheets prepared. Think you’ll be able to handle that?
Tessa
I think I can handle anything, sir.
I add that last part on purpose, knowing how much he liked it when I did it last time. And him liking me is the goal here.
