I wasn’t about to tell Dillon that Kelton and I were childhood sweethearts. Or how I’d cried my eyes out, locked myself in my room, and didn’t eat for a week after we moved away. Or how I dreamed of him every night. No matter how scary a vibe Dillon gave me or what type of illegal business he was running, my business was my own. Sure, he could probably hurt me, even make me disappear, but I had to choose my battles at the moment, and sharing my childhood with him had no place in this conversation.
Dillon reached over the console and grabbed my arm. “Do you know him?” he asked, his tone dripping venom. “If it’s Kelton Maxwell, I’m not selling you shit. Rumor is he’s about to marry the daughter of the head of the Russian mob. I value my miserable life. If the mob gets wind my crew is selling guns under their noses, I’m dead. As well as my crew. Plus, if that isn’t enough, his older brother is mixed up with a gal who’s the granddaughter of some Italian mobster out of LA. You get me?”
My heartbeat dipped drastically at the thought of Kelton getting married. Actually, my stomach suddenly hurt as though I’d been sucker punched. I rolled my shoulders back. After I’d had a meltdown over moving away from Kelton, I’d put my life back together, sealing off a part of my heart that Kelton had stolen. I had to in order to help my sister, Gracie, overcome the tragic incident. Even more so when she committed suicide after two years of a life worse than hell. After her death, I focused on the positive things in life like she would’ve wanted me to.
“Chill, all right? I get you.” And you don’t want to get on my bad side either. I shrugged out of his hold.
I’d been on my own for two years. Protecting myself and handling thugs like him became second nature to me after I was attacked on the streets of Miami.
“You sure are confident and cocky for a chick. Maybe you should be working on my crew.” His features softened. “The guys wouldn’t know what hit them with someone like you.”
I laughed. “You want me to sell guns for you?”
He sat back against his seat. “Your arms are well-toned, you seem like you can kick ass, and there’s an innocence about you. Yet I can tell you’re far from innocent. And I get the feeling you’re pissed off at the world. You have fire in your eyes, like you’re ready to kill someone. I like that. I could use that on my crew.”
I was ready to kill someone—the trustee of my father’s estate, if I could find him. First, I had to get my life savings back. The law was of no help until I could prove the trustee stole my inheritance. But if working for Dillon meant I could have access to a gun, then maybe cutting a deal with him wouldn’t be so bad.
We studied each other as if we were two lions about to do battle. Dillon hardened his strong, square jaw, flaring his nostrils.
I sucked in my cheek. He was right. I was more than angry at the world and all the turmoil I’d been through. Regardless, I wasn’t about to feel sorry for myself. I’d been on that emotional rollercoaster. It was time to buck up and get back what was mine.
“Who are you hiding from?” he asked, breaking the thick silence. “Don’t tell me no one. You’re wearing a wig. And you still haven’t told me why you wanted to run from that dude.”
The Caribbean could freeze before I’d tell you.
“Look, Emma, if that’s even your name. Whether you work for me or not, you still want a gun. Which means I need to trust that you’re not going to rat me out to the cops. If it’s trust you’re worried about, let it go. I stand to lose more than you.”
I could argue that point. I had a million dollars in my inheritance that I had to get back. “Are you going to sell me a gun? If not, I’ll find someone else.” I opened the door. With my luck, the landlord in Miami I owed back rent would find me and hold me hostage until I could pay him. Not to mention, I owed the University of Miami a semester of tuition that I’d thought had been paid.
“My cousin tells me you lost your family.”
“I’m out of here.” I was about to jump out of the car when he took hold of my arm once again.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I hate when people pry into my past too.”
I sat back. “Listen, sell me a gun, and you’ll never see me again.” I didn’t want to research another dealer or get caught up with someone who didn’t seem as nice as Dillon. Or with my luck I would find that one person who was connected to the mob. Given what Dillon had mentioned about the mob, I wanted to stay away from them.
He kept his brown gaze glued to me as he seemed to be mulling over something. “I’ll text you a time and place to meet me tonight.” He shifted the Camaro into gear.
I dove into my own thoughts as he drove through the busy streets of Boston. I contemplated whether to at least tell Dillon what I was hiding from. I could use a guy like him, a guy who knew the city, in the event I got myself into a pickle.