Page 2 of Colton
It’s hours of pacing later when I open my messages, finding the text thread with Holly. Months ago, she invited us to Chicago for a visit. She said she could find me a job and a place to stay. It was kind, but I knew I wasn’t going to accept. As painful as our life here has been, it’s also predictable. I have things sort of figured out. I have a stable job, and I thought with a little more work I’d be able to get a promotion to care aid in the seniors’ home and make more than I am as a custodian. I had a plan. I just needed time.
I’m out of time now.
I have no idea what the job might be, or where we will stay, but I have to explore it. She promised she’d bring us out there to check it out on her dime. At the time, it grated on my pride to have her make the offer.
I won’t allow my pride to stand in the way of my daughter’s well-being. On the off chance that Chicago could be safer than here, I have to go. Last night, the bullets missed. I can’t risk there being a next time.
Me:If the offer is still open, I’d like to come and see about the job.
Holly:Thank god. Yes, yes, it’s still open. I’m going to text Colton your info, and he’ll make arrangements to pick you up ASAP. I’m so glad you’re coming.
Me:Thank you, Holly. Really. See you soon.
Holly:No thanks needed. Your kindness helped me get away from my husband. I don’t know where I’d be right now, but it for sure wouldn’t be safe here with the man I love.
No, she wouldn’t be safe. She’d be dead. I kept a detailed notebook of every bruise, and every cut I saw on her during her volunteer shifts at the hospital. He was escalating. I’m not sure she even realizes it. I’ve seen it too many times.
Exhaling, I throw my phone next to me on the couch and run loving eyes over Mia’s little body as she stacks colorful blocks, laughing with her when she throws her doll at them and knocks them over. We have an hour till lunch, just enough time to play with her. And find someone to cover the rest of my weekend shifts.
As I make the calls, I mentally calculate the lost wages and pray this isn’t a mistake. And in the back of my mind, I wonder who Colton is and why he’s so quick to help.
2
COLTON
Iloosen another button on my shirt, then shrug out of my jacket. I’ve been in this fucking suit most of the day, a record for me. It doesn’t matter how tailored, how expensive, I still hate wearing them. It always feels too tight on my biceps, and my shoulders. Men with bodies like mine should wear sweats, for fuck’s sake.
“I want extra cameras at each dock. Keep it covert this time. I don’t want anyone but us knowing they’re there. Clear? The fuckers stealing from us seem to be one step ahead. I want to know why.”
My security guys nod, eyes serious. I handpicked all of them. There are a few ex-military guys in the mix, but most of them are guys we knew on the street. When we brought them in, trained them up, and paid them well, we earned their loyalty. They will get the job done…any job. They’re good men. So why the fuck we can’t solve this problem? It’s grating on me, making me wonder if I’ve misplaced my trust.
I slap backs and answer a few questions as they file out of the secured boardroom. Most businesses don’t have soundproof rooms like this in their headquarters, but most companies don’t have paranoid motherfuckers running them.
We started all this with one garage, and we fought with everything in us to keep it. We defended it against all who would try to take it from us. Back then, people looked at the nine of us and saw criminals, street rats, losers with no clue what the fuck we were doing. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, Ransom knew what he was doing. He took nine foster kids, dumped in a group home, and turned us into a family, into brothers. Now, we’re stronger than anyone or anything in this city.
We’ve expanded past garages into real estate development, auto dealerships, custom parts lines, and more. We went from all sleeping in a small studio above our first garage to living in massive three-bedroom condos on the lake. We developed the whole forty-story high rise and still own the top seven floors. It’s our own personal kingdom.
We’re fucking billionaires now.
It feels ridiculous to say, because who the fuck needs a billion dollars? But there it is. So we do good things with it. We donate it to worthy causes, and yes, we buy some stupid shit too. But it’s never been about the money for me. It was then and is now about protecting my family, my brothers.
We all had a specific role to play in the family. Mine has always been protection. I’m the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the group. On the street, that counts for something. But now, in Corporate-fucking-America my muscles don’t matter. Now it’s about corporate espionage and power politics and trade secrets. So I have a security team, and Declan and I work to guard the kingdom. We had our problems, but for the most part, our family worked like a well-oiled machine.
Then Becca and Holly came along and everything got fucked up, but not in a bad way.
Kade and Micah are stupid in love with their women. And those women are the best. I can’t imagine better partners for my brothers. But things are shifting, changing, and I’m feeling a little left behind.
I move through the floor, nodding at the diehards still at their desks at six on a Friday night, then step on the elevator and head to the executive floor. Things are quieter up here, most of the floor dark, but as expected, Ransom’s office lights are still on. I head toward his space, stopping first to annoy the woman in the office right across from his.
“Fucking slacker, heading out already? Before the boss?” I say, smirking.
Cara doesn’t disappoint. She shrugs into her leather jacket, then arches her brow at me.
“Listen Shrek, don’t expect me to hang around with you losers. I have a social life, thank you very much.” Her words are biting, and rude, but her smile is wide and her eyes shining. She is a fucking powerhouse. Doesn’t take any shit from anyone and runs the office, and Ransom’s schedule, with an iron fist. I trail my eyes down her body, taking in the low-cut lacy top, tight black skirt over wide hips, and curvy tanned legs, locking on the four-inch spiked stilettos on her feet. She plants her hand on her hip, tapping her red-tipped nails, letting me look my fill.
“Why the fuck aren’t we dating?” I ask.
She snorts, dropping her arm and reaching for her purse. “Because we have some seriously annoying brother-sister vibes going on.”
