Page 63 of Freed By Fire
“I’m sorry.”
Olivia blinks and releases a shaky breath. “Me, too. I hope you don’t make the same mistakes I did. My brother is not the easiest person in the world to deal with, but if he cares about you, he will burn the world down to keep you safe.”
I search her face, and my chest tightens. “I know.”
Olivia brushes past me and pauses in the doorway. “I hope it works out for you. For both of you.”
The door shuts behind her, and I remain rooted to the spot for a while.
I turn Olivia’s words over in my head as I duck into the bathroom and switch on the hot water. When steam fills the bathroom, I leave my clothes in a heap on the floor and stand under the shower head. For a while, I watch the water swirl at my feet as I debate what to do next.
A short while later, I secure the towel around me and sit on the edge of the bed.
I’m not sure what I want to do next, but I don’t know if I can be the one who makes Mason Payne walk away from the life he’s built.
I don’t know if I can live with myself if he turns his back on his family and his legacy.
My fingers are trembling as I change into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and throw myself onto the bed. As soon as I squeeze my eyes shut, my hand moves to my stomach, and I realize with startling clarity that my decision has already been made for me.
I can’t keep this baby.
I can’t condemn them to this life I’ve chosen.
When I squeeze my eyes shut and curl up into a ball, my heart aches for the life growing inside of me, and the tiny hands I’ll never hold.
Chapter Twelve
Mason
“My father has a saying: Never trust a man who can’t hold his liquor.” I take a long sip of my drink. Then I lean forward in my seat and let my gaze sweep over the two men sitting across from me. The city inspector swirls his drink in his glass, the top of his bald head glistening with sweat. The man next to him with a buzzcut hasn’t touched his glass.
Adding someone new to the payroll is a risk, but with our allies growing silent, I have little choice.
If it were up to me, I’d have had the man vetted and followed for months before making a move.
Carlisle and Katia do their homework on anyone who walks through the doors of the club, but there’s something about the rigid set of his shoulders and his frown that sets off all sorts of alarm bells.
The city inspector’s inside man looks like he wants to be anywhere else.
If he’s half as good as Bernie says he is, then he knows what’s at stake here and what you do to rats.
Still, I study him until I’ve finished half my drink, and there’s a pleasant buzzing in my ears. When I set my glass down, Bernie does the same and leans forward in his chair. He smiles, showing off a few yellowed teeth.
Bernie isn’t the kind of man I deal with directly. Between his sniveling and over-eagerness to please, he’s usually the kind of contact Carlisle takes care of, but my right-hand man has more pressing tasks to take care of.
Like figuring out Oliver’s next move.
Trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else has never been this exhausting, and the Payne name no longer holds the same weight it once did.
Not with rumors swirling about our incompetence.
Fucking Everetts and Fitzpatricks.
Why haven’t I found a way to take care of them?
You don’t care about the collateral damage anyway. You have every right to retaliate. No one will hold it against you.
Unfortunately, I have a sinking feeling it’s what my enemies are waiting for.
