Page 73 of Violent Skies

“This isn’t some low-level idiot. He’s been around a long time and he runs heavy operations. Whatever he wants to talk to you about, it’s for a reason that benefits him. Nothing he does is for fun,” Riggs warns.

“I understand.” His worry is palpable and it’s pushing me into a corner, but dealing with pushy, manipulative men is my specialty. He pulls the car into the driveway of a house I’m not expecting someone that they’re all so afraid of to inhabit. Riggs’ chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his blue eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, his teeth bothering his bottom lip as he studies my expression.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, it’s a dangerous question because he either tells me and it makes going into that house harder or he lies, and I know he lies.

“Just wanted to look at you for a second,” he whispers.

My heart clenches tightly in my chest as my breath catches in my throat. It’s cruel, because it’s not a lie. It's a memory that neither of us ever want to talk about. One that we’ve both kept secret our entire lives, and one that he likes to dance around gently by saying that.

A body appears through the front door and catches my glance before I can open my mouth and bring it up.

He slips a piece of gum into my hand. I almost cry at the sight of it—such a stupid fucking thing to be addicted to—but the feeling of the foil beneath my fingers offers a reprieve I couldn’t expect to show up, and at a time when I needed it the most.

I unfold it, popping it into my mouth, and watch as he pulls out a pen from the center console, jotting something across the white backing before he patiently folds it into a tiny heart like always. He presses it into my palm and I want to pick at the corners, peel them back and read whatever he wrote, but he closes my fingers around it.

“After,” he whispers and I nod, even though I don’t want to wait; I barely want to get out of the car. I’m two seconds from climbing into his lap and driving us away from all our problems, but I don’t because that won’t solve anything and would leave our family in danger. I inhale once more and he waits for me to make the first move. I pull the handle, slipping the heart into the pocket of my sweater as I let go of his hand and climb from the seat.

“Cress Taito.” A man whom I assume is Liloa, stands with his arms out wide on the front step like he’s welcoming an old friend into his home. But we’re not friends, and that is the lion’s den.

“Liloa.” I dip my head in respect, unsure where to go or what to do. Riggs unloads the bags, taking four in his hands and leaving two to me as he walks up the steps into the house. I’m slower through the threshold, taking my time wandering up the steps, and Liloa watches every move I make like a hawk.

“You’re as beautiful as I expected,” he says quietly as I wander by him. I swallow the cotton balls back down into my stomach, urging myself to breathe through the panic that he incites from a simple sentence.

“You’re not as scary as they make you sound,” I say, looking up at him to meet a pair of eyes that belong to a vicious predator. I expect him to lash out at my response, but a smile spreads across his face.

“I see where Birdie gets her bravery from,” is what rolls off his lips. “Please.” He waves his arm to guide me inside while offering to take the heavy bags from me. I hesitate but hand them over and make my way into the house.

It’s warmer inside than I expected, and decorated with pictures on every wall. Some of the people in them are clearly relatives, others maybe friends? It feels smaller because of how much clutter thereis; every surface has something on it. Like my Grandmother’s house. I flinch gently when the bags are dropped to the floor and two sets of feet wander from a back room to remove them from sight.

“Sit.” Liloa points to the old-looking couch and I listen, rubbing my hands against the scratchy fabric as Riggs keeps his distance. Putting himself between us would be a mistake, I see that. Liloa doesn’t mean me harm but acting like he does would make this situation much more tense.

However, his eyes pin me down on the couch, his jaw tight and his fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them across his chest by the door.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he offers.

“I’d like to say the same but the first time I ever heard your name was eight hours ago,” I say carefully and he chuckles at the response.

“Koa was secretive.” His voice booms without restraint. I think it’s just his tone: Boisterous, warm and friendly, even if his tattooed face and dark eyes say something very different. “About you, about his life.”

“He could be,” I agree, “but he also was sweet and kind.”

“Mm.” Liloa’s expression hardens a touch. “I never had the pleasure of meeting the man you’re describing unfortunately. When Koa came to me it was in a rush, a fury.”

I still, my blood freezing in my veins.

“He said that he had to prove himself to you, to be worthy of you.” His words only upset me but I don’t let him see that. “Nothing was ever enough.”

“He was enough,” I correct. That’s too much of a false narrative for my conscience to handle. “Whatever he showed up here to do, it was for his two other loves. Money and power.”

Riggs flinches in the corner of my eye.

“You’re a smart woman, Cress. I see why they fight over you.” He nods. Something about what he says rubs me the wrong way. I never asked for that, for them to fight. I made a choice, Riggs forced it, and… I look over to him out of pure need and a lack of common sense. Whatever facade I had been holding crumbles before Liloa.

“Interesting,” he whispers.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, my eyes tearing off Riggs back to him.

“An honest answer.”