But naturally Z only heard one word of that.
“Partner—” he shouts, a fist landing on the heavy wooden door from the other side. JD really put thoughtful details into the interior of this place—or his girlfriend of the time did—with excellent fixtures, heavy barn doors instead of particle board, and beautiful finishings. I thought, oh sure, on the outside it looks like a trailer, but inside it feels fancy.
“That word always pissed me the fuck off,” he growls. “I offered to marry you plenty of times.”
“Well, maybe deep down something told me I shouldn’t marry you.” My voice gains strength the more I talk, even if I sound like I’ve been smoking a pack a day for twenty years. “Because even though I’m clearly a fucking idiot, some animal part of me deep down knew you weren’t safe. Huh. Looks like I was right.”
“Iamsafe.” Z slams the wooden door again so hard it shudders. “We both could have been safe if you would’ve just?—”
“If I would’ve what?” I shout back hoarsely. Fuck, what I’d give for a swallow of water. “Followed the rules? If I would’ve just fucked you nice and acted like the perfect little submissive wife you expected me to be? Did you evenknowme?Ever?Did you hear a word I said about how that was the last thing I ever wanted for myself?”
“You sure decided you wanted it when Bruiser came along.”
“Because if there’s a baby in front of me, I’m gonna do right by it. I’m not my mother!”
I can hear Z’s nasty smirk in his next words. “You so sure? Hopping from one man’s bed right into the next? Sounds a lot like her to me.”
My hand flies out to smack the wood again. “Fuck you. Let me out of here!”
Z just chuckles.
“Not until you give me what I need.”
“You want me to give you Dad’s club, but it’s not even mine!” Although I don’t know if it’s Caleb’s either, even though he’s been managing it all this time in Silas’s stead. Has he just been waiting until Silas got out of prison? Because that place was tapped in and up to date. Caleb’s clearly put his own money into it over the years, but how could he do that if he never even had equity in it?
“All you gotta do is get Silas to sign it over to you. You’re the only one who’s been visiting him. Surely he’ll do it for his baby girl. Just twist him around your little finger. You’re good at that.”
“Why haven’t you just?—”
I stop my running mouth, not wanting to give them ideas if they haven’t thought of them. Maybe they’re all high off their own product like Z.
But seriously, if they just need Silas to sign something, why haven’t they pressured him with guys on the inside? But then I realize as the seconds tick by that, of course,I’mthe one late to this party.
The real question is: Who the hell is Z working for?
Because there’s no way he came up with this on his own. And he keeps talking about “them.”
So who aretheyand what do they want with some random Dallas downtown club? It can’t be anything hidden in the building itself. Else why didn’t they just break in and take it? Is there some special attachment along with the deed?
My head’s spinning too much, and I still haven’t gotten water.
“Z, come on.” I try to make my voice as pathetic as possible, along with some of that old cajoling tone that sometimes got through the hard stare he’d get when we were kids. Through to the tiny spark I always thought was his humanity.
“Z, I’m really thirsty. And okay, we can figure out whatever this is. Together, like always. You and me against the world.” My voice cracks as I say the words, and I hurry on. “Even if you feel like you need to keep me in this closet for now. But I’ve got to get something to drink, or I’m not going to be okay.”
Now that I see therealZ, I doubt I’ll be getting sympathy. Showing weakness to a predator sometimes puts them at ease, though.
It’s how Z expects me to be—making myself small so his ego can stay big—and it’s better to be exactly what he expects me to be. Even if I’m a little sickened by the thought.Because of course it’s what he expects—it’s how you always act around him. He’s read all your kindness and empathy toward him this whole time as weakness.
Was there ever a spark of humanity to get through to? Even when we were kids? Maybe that spark was just his interest in me as a new treasure to collect.
Z always liked collecting treasures. It’s how he came across that big fat blunt he was holding up that day we first met in the woods. He stole the blunt off some kids at the high school—snuck it off them while they were hot-boxing in the car nearby, then ran like hell.
He was always proud of how he could find nice things and acquire them for himself. Aka, steal them.
Why did it take me this long to see that I was just one more pretty stolen thing he was putting up on his shelf to admire as his own?
“If you own the club,” Z says, still with that warning edge in his voice, “then it will ease the pressure on Silas.”