Jayden grabs some clothes off the floor and starts putting them on, making me realize she’s been naked this whole time. I was just too determined to get some clothes and run to notice it.
We hurry out of the apartment and avoid the main alleys and streets to get to Mick’s. The whole time, Jayden is staring at me, a million questions sitting on the tip of her tongue. And I’m looking over my shoulder, paranoid a Blackwell is tailing us. Along with my paranoia, I feel guilt. Sorrow. I killed Landon, the man I care about. But that man, the man I thought I finally had figured out, is actually the man in my dreams who haunts me. He killed my mother. To hate and to love are two polar opposites, yet I feel them both right now.
“Here we are,” I whisper, striding into Mick’s office.
“Fancy! Rarity!” Mick greets, sitting behind his desk, wearing a dark purple shirt with a gold chain. He looks like a stereotypical pimp today.
“Fancy needs help,” Jayden spits outs, making me rub the nape of my neck nervously. She couldn’t ease into the conversation?
Mick sits back in his chair and steeples his hands, his forehead wrinkling as he looks at me.
“Is that right? And why does Fancy need help?” Mick questions, his tone taking a hint of concern.
“I just—”
“She killed that rich fucker,” Jayden interrupts. I slowly turn my head and glare at her.
“Fuck. No!” Mick shouts, pointing at his door dismissing me.
“But—”
“No. I am not getting involved with the Blackwells. Especially if some whore is dumb enough to kill one. You!” He points at me. “Get out and run. Run far away,” Mick instructs.
“You owe me,” I grit. I lower my head and glower at him, but he just chuckles and shakes his head.
“And why do you think that, sweetheart?” Mick laughs.
“You said I was safe. You said this was my family, but you didn’t lift a finger to save me.” I point at my chest and lean over his desk. “I saved me. I did what I had to do. Therefore, you owe me,” I snarl.
Mick takes in a large breath, his face turning sympathetic. Like something you would see on a puppy begging for food.
“I’m sorry, Fancy, but I can’t.” He shakes his head. “Landon is making a statement by taking over the Blackwells, and I’m not about to jump on that ride. The best I can do is give you your cut from working here.” He rubs his hands over his head and continues to shake it back and forth.
“I might know someone who can lower the rent on a place, get you in there till you can figure something out—”
“Deal,” I interrupt.
He opens his drawer, pulling out a bag of some sort, and throws a bunch of hundreds on the table.
I grab the money and shove it in my pocket as he picks his phone up to make the call about the apartment.
I glance at Jayden, who is still looking at me strangely.
“What?” I finally ask.
“How did you do it?” Jayden whispers as Mick talks on the phone.
“Do what?” I reply vague.
“How did you kill him?”
I swallow, my heart sinking in the pit of my stomach as I think about it. The gun pulling back as it fired. The loud bang. The blood. Landon’s face.
“I shot him,” I mumble, closing my eyes. How did I miss the tattoo on Landon’s back? I close my eyes, and images of Landon and me together play behind my eyes. Us at the hotel, but the little bit of red lighting cascading into our room wasn’t enough to see with. When I was on his desk in his office, he still had his shirt on, and when we were in his room last night, it was too dark to see anything. The evidence was right in front of me, and I missed it every time.
“Daaaaamn,” Jayden remarks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Done. Go out, make a left, walk six blocks till you get to a hotel that reads Hawns. He’ll take care of you,” Mick directs as he points toward the door. “Now. Get out now,” he insists, his voice serious.
“Thank you,” I reply, turning to leave.
“Rarity, you need to leave and never come back here. Do you understand?” Mick questions,, cocking his head to the side.
“Why?”
“You have been running the streets with Fancy, who killed a Blackwell. I don’t need to chance that someone saw you two together, and is tailing you,” Mick explains, his tone hard.
“I’m not leaving her by herself anyway” Jayden responds, walking out behind me.
“You don’t need to come with me,” I tell her, but only because I feel like that’s what a good friend would say. In truth, I’m terrified right now and pray she comes with me.
“Screw you. I’m coming.” Jayden reaches down and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“We’re in this together,” she mumbles.
TWENTY-ONE
LANDON
My chest aches, and my head throbs painfully. I open my heavy eyes, finding everything blurry. I blink a couple times, trying to clear them when I see Roman sitting in a chair across the room. His shirt’s untucked, and he’s in jeans. I look down, finding myself in my bed, a patch placed over my chest, just below my shoulder. Reminding me that Charlie shot me.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s her. How could I have not put two and two together? No wonder I’ve been so drawn to her; I knew who she was. My body recognized her before my brain registered who she even was. The thought that she actually had the balls to shoot me runs amok between the pride I have for her and the fucking anger radiating in my chest.
“About time you wake up.” Roman yawns. I open my eyes and try to sit up. My chest instantly smarts with the stretch of muscle, causing me to wince.
“How long have I been out?” I question, glancing toward the window. It looks like the sun is just coming up.
“A day.” Roman stretches and walks toward my bed. “How ya feeling?”
I glance up at him after finally getting in the position of sitting up.
“Like I’ve been shot,” I inform dryly.
“You deserved it.”
I whip my head up and glare at him.
“Why’d you do it?” He lifts a brow in questioning.
“Do what?” I mumble, looking my wound over.
“Kill that woman?”
“I’m not getting into this right now,” I groan, resting my head along the headboard in exhaustion.
“I know Father had an affair with a woman with the last name Evans. I know the Evans woman was why Dad made the rule about not sleeping with the escorts, too.” Roman walks back to where he was sitting and grabs a folder. The rule came from Charlie’s mother, to be exact. She was the whole reason behind it.
“What are you rambling about?” I ask, irritated.
“Be honest. Did you sleep with her? Did you sleep with Charlie Evans?” Roman stands by my bed, looking at me with an unreadable look.
“Does it matter?” I shrug, my chest blazing with a warmth of pain.
“It does.” Roman slaps the folder in my lap and grins. “I know for a fact she didn’t have any clients. Well, none you didn’t send on their way, anyway.”
I open the folder, finding the girls’ weekly health checks from the doctor as Roman continues.
“So, if you look at that, you will see why I ask if you’ve slept with Charlie.”
My eyes roam the paper, finding all the girls with a negative sign for everything. But one plus sign stands out amongst those negatives, catching my attention. I furrow my brows and follow it to the escort’s name, finding Charlie.
“The doctor said everyone checked out, but that one girl in particular had a rise in HCG.”
I follow the positive sign up, looking for what Charlie has when the word hits me like a ton of fucking bricks.
“Pregnant,” I whisper.
“Pregnant,” Roman confirms. I drop the paper and close my eyes. Charlie told me I was the only one she slept with without protection. Shit. It couldn’t just be that I slept with an Evans, that I cared for an Evans. No, I got one pregnant.