by Eva Ashwood
“Coralee. We need to talk.”
Seventeen
A flicker of worry moved through me at his words.
We need to talk wasn’t usually the beginning of any kind of good conversation.
But there was something in Bishop’s expression that eased some of my worry.
The boy standing before me was controlling. Dominant. Stubborn. It bled into the way he fucked, and to be honest, I think at this point I liked fighting back. Maybe that’s why, after everything, the fighting and the fucking, it was easy to meet his gaze dead on, neither bowing to his will nor pushing back recklessly—just meeting him as an equal.
“Okay,” I said calmly. “Let’s talk.”
A grin stretched his lips for a second, there and gone so fast I almost didn’t see it. As if he liked this stronger side of me.
Then his expression grew serious again, and he shook his head with a sigh.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Coralee.”
“You could always do what you just did and forget about the rest,” I suggested, arching a brow.
He chuckled. “As nice as that sounds…” Then he trailed off, chewing on his lip as he looked down at me. “Is it really that important, figuring out shit about your father?”
The question seemed like it would have such an obvious answer, I was almost surprised he’d asked it. I had to remind myself for the dozenth time—the man I knew was not the man Bishop thought my father to be. I also knew that none of the Lost Boys had ever had a positive father figure in their life. My dad, as obsessed with work and standoffish as he might be, had at least had moments where he’d shown me that he cared about me. Where he’d made me feel wanted and loved.
The Lost Boys had never had that.
Affection, or connection, or whatever that instinctual need to keep family together was—it was something that circumstance had beaten out of them at every turn.
So I just nodded.
“Yes. It is. It’s… important to me, Bishop. I know you don’t think much of him, but I have to try. Even if I get an answer I don’t like, even if I get no answer at all, I want to at least be able to say that I tried. Especially now that my mom is apparently gallivanting all over the place with some other man, just because Dad’s in prison and can’t take care of her anymore. You know she hasn’t visited him? Not even once. She said it was because prisons made her nervous, but I’m starting to think she just doesn’t care. She’s a fair-weather wife, and my dad deserves to have someone in his corner who will stick up for him when he needs it most.”
Bishop took a step closer to me, resting his hands on my shoulders before sliding them down my arms, his touch leaving little trails of heat across my skin. His hazel eyes glittered as he narrowed them thoughtfully, like he was weighing options. He was considering it—which was a hell of a lot better than half an hour or so ago, when we were screaming in each other’s faces.
Eventually, he sighed.
“I don’t know why the hell it took me so long to recognize this, but you’re clearly a very stubborn woman.” One corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “You’re not going to stop looking for answers, are you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Right.”
His grip on my shoulders tightened slightly, and I was sure he was considering all of his options, up to and including locking me in a closet or tying me to the bed to make sure I couldn’t go poking my nose into places it didn’t belong. Whatever answer he finally settled on, it made him step forward, pressing his body against mine and tugging me close, as if he were trying to shield me somehow.
“Well then, the only way to make sure we don’t have a repeat of the shit that went down with Flint is to be a part of this instead of letting you scribble your ideas down in a notebook without anyone else knowing what’s going on,” he said. “So we’ll help you. But that comes with a stipulation.”
My brows rose. “What is it?”
“I need to head back out, drop off the payment I was supposed to make to Nathaniel before someone decided to be distracting, pick up Misael and Kace, and bring them here so you can explain to them what’s going on.”
I frowned, my stomach churning at the thought of going through all of this twice more, with two boys who were just as stubborn and protective as Bishop in their own ways.
“You’re doing that to punish me, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, answering seriously even though I’d been partly joking.
“I wouldn’t call it a punishment, but I think they’ll appreciate at least being told instead of finding it out down the line like I did. I don’t mind helping—actually, scratch that, I do mind helping, because I think this is dangerous and stupid as fuck—but I’m going to help because it’s dangerous. Make sense?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
He smiled a little, his body softening against mine. Then he dropped his head, bending down to kiss me in a way that was so soft and tender it made my heart race. When he pulled back a little, he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll be back in a little bit, Coralee. Remember… we’re here to help you and protect you.” His grip on my hair tightened, and he gave it a light tug, a little sting of pain to counterbalance the sweetness. His expression was serious as he added, “So stop trying to do shit without us.”
Waiting for Bishop to get back was almost more torture than the actual worry of how Kace and Misael would react to me telling them that I still wanted better answers about what happened with my father.
I wished I could’ve told them all at once, pulled the band-aid off with all three of them at the same time, but I wasn’t so lucky as that.
I was in the living room when they came in, sitting on the couch and scrolling idly through my phone. I looked up when I heard the latch of the front door twist, my gut twisting with anxiety.
“Aye. Bish said something was up?” Misael looked confused as he sat down on the couch beside me. Kace stood in front of us, his arms crossed as if he was already bracing for bad news.
It was evident that everyone understood there was something serious going on. I had asked if this was a punishment, but in a way, I was glad Bishop was giving me the chance to explain things to Misael and Kace on my own—that I was able to put it into my own words, try to make them see where I was coming from.
Drawing in a breath, I looked up at them both.
“I’ve… been thinking a lot about my father. I still think something weird happened with his arrest. He insists he was set up, and I want to find out if that’s true. I know you guys don’t like him, and I respect your reasons for that, but he’s still my father. And I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about it until I’ve done something—or at least everything that I could—in order to make things right for him.”
Misael and Kace exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable. Then Kace turned to Bishop, his brows pinching together.
“You’re okay with this?”
Bish shrugged. “I don’t think it matters if I’m okay with it. I think what matters is this is what Cora wants, and I want to respect that.” He smirked a little. “Also, I think we have to accept that our Coralee is too fucking stubborn for her own good. She’d do something else on her own with or without our help.”
Misael actually cracked a smile, winking at me.
“Did you just figure that out, Bish? I’ve known she was stubborn since the first time she put your sorry ass back in line.”
Bishop rolled his eyes, whipping out his fist to punch Misael lightly on the shoulder. Misael danced out of the way, chuckling. Then he looked to me, his expression growing somber. “Is this really what you want, Cora?”
I dipped my chin, my fingers tangling together nervously. “It is.”
“I don’t like it,” Kace said flatly, and my stomach sank as I switched my gaze to him. “It’s dangerous as hell. We’re already tryin’ to stay outta the shit for what happened to Flint. And I don’t thi
nk your old man deserves you wantin’ to save him. I don’t think he deserves you fixin’ his problems for him either.”
As he spoke, I remembered everything he’d told me about his own father, and my heart clenched. Darting a quick glance toward Bishop, I rose from the couch and approached Kace, wrapping my arms around him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, all muscle and sinew, violence and rage—but it struck me suddenly that nothing about him frightened me anymore.
I felt small and delicate next to him, soft and imminently breakable.
But I knew, in the same way I knew gravity existed, that this boy would never hurt me.
His muscles tightened, then relaxed under my touch, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beating in my ear.
“What you did for me, Kace—what you all did—it was more than anyone has a right to ask for. You killed someone to protect me, and that’s a debt I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“Doesn’t need repayin’, Princess,” he grunted, his strong arms coming around me as if he couldn’t stop himself. As if it was an instinctual reaction to my presence by now.
I tilted my head a little, craning my neck to look up into his eyes. “I know. But I’ll try for the rest of my life anyway.” Then I pulled back just a little my fingertips splaying over the strong lines of his shoulders. “You told me you look out for people you love, Kace. Even when it’s dangerous. Even when it doesn’t make sense. Even when it defies logic and reason.”
He nodded slowly, his light green gaze burning into mine.
“Well,” I said softly, “I told you I understand. And I really do. Because that’s how I feel about this. I know it doesn’t make sense. I know it could be dangerous, and there’s no guarantee it’ll even work out. But for as flawed a person as my dad is, he’s still my dad. And I love him.”
Something flashed across Kace’s expression at my words, and I couldn’t quite tell what it was—whether it came from a good thought or a bad one. He tightened his grip on me, palming my head and pressing my cheek to his chest again, like he was trying to both lend me strength and borrow it.
Beneath my ear, I heard the rhythm of his heart shift, thudding harder and faster.
“I don’t like it,” he said again. “But if this is what you want, if it’s what you need… There’s no fuckin’ way you’re doin’ it alone.”
A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding fell from my lips.
It was done. I had told them; they all knew.
And I wasn’t alone in this anymore.
Eighteen
All three boys had agreed to help me, but I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
Honestly, I thought that they might drag their feet on things with my father. It was still winter break, and between homework and their jobs for Nathaniel, they had their own heavy workloads to get through.
I was just glad that they all finally knew and had agreed to allow me to keep digging. Despite my bluster with Bish, I knew that if he really wanted to, he could stop me—or at least make things painfully difficult for me. The boys outnumbered me, they were bigger than me, and if they decided to physically restrain me from leaving the house, I wouldn’t be going anywhere.
It was a massive relief that they all seemed to understand my reasons for wanting to look into my dad’s arrest, as misguided as they thought my sympathy was. If I had needed tangible proof that their feelings for me were as strong as mine were becoming for them, this was about the most solid evidence I could get.
They were putting aside their old grudges—the anger against my father that had brought them into my orbit in the first place—to help me.
Because it was important to me.
Because they wanted to protect me.
I didn’t exactly expect them to be champing at the bit to get started though, so when the boys came home a few days before school was supposed to start up again, saying they’d found a lead on my father, I was honestly surprised.
“So, we’ve got some news about your old man, or at least a place to start getting actual information about him,” Bishop said, shrugging off the leather jacket he was wearing.
It took me a moment to register what he’d said, and when I did, I blinked.
“You—wait, what?”
He cocked his head at me, amusement gleaming in his eyes. His lip quirked. “We may have a meeting with an information broker who has a lead about your father.”
I felt several things at once—but mainly a rush of gratitude at the fact they had committed to helping me, and a thrill of excitement that their help had produced a possible lead so quickly. On my own, without the connections they had, I might’ve spent months or even years poking around in all the wrong places, turning up nothing useful.
“When are we meeting with this information broker?” I asked, practically bouncing on my toes as I tried to contain my excitement.
Misael laughed, pulling me into his arms. “Later tonight, because we knew you wouldn’t have the patience to wait. But we’re goin’ out to a club to meet with him. So you need to get ready, Princess Cora.”
Getting ready entailed a scorching hot shower, doing my makeup and hair, and picking out an appropriate outfit from the meager selection in my closet. There wasn’t a rush—not from the boys, at least. I felt like I couldn’t get ready fast enough. It felt like I was eating up time, even if I wasn’t. We had an in—a safe in, a meeting I wouldn’t have to go to on my own, and one I wouldn’t have to hide from the boys either.
I styled my hair and did my makeup in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me, then padded into the bedroom to get dressed. As I was rifling through my small closet, I heard the door open and close behind me, and a moment later, the scent of Misael’s spicy body wash filled my nostrils. The effect was like a drug, and when he came up behind me, I melted into his touch. His hands slid over my shoulders, and he pressed his lips against the nape of my neck.
“You’re jittery,” he murmured, his lips still brushing my skin. “Relax. It’ll be alright. I promise.”
I tilted my head to look at him, my eyelids drooping a little as warmth spread through my belly. “You really think so? I know you hate this.”
“Hey.” He turned me around to face him, sliding his fingers through my hair as he cradled the back of my head. “That ain’t the point anymore. We’re all on board. We’re with you. And we don’t fuckin’ fail at shit we set our minds to. We get what we want.”
“Yeah.” My voice softened as my hands skated up his stomach, tracing the ridges of his abs through his t-shirt. “I’ve noticed.”
He made a hungry noise in his throat, dipping his head to kiss the breath out of me. His hands left my hair, sliding up my thighs and under the towel, slipping between my legs, roaming over my stomach, groping and massaging my breasts as he pushed the towel out of the way. When he finally tugged it loose from my body entirely, I drew in a sharp breath as cool air hit my skin.
“I… have to… get dressed,” I managed to say in a halting voice, my body already sparking and coming alive under his touch.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m helpin’ you.”
As he spoke, he pulled me closer and slid his leg between mine, letting me ride his thigh as he kissed me again. The pressure on my clit felt amazing, and I ground down harder on him, unable to stop myself.
“How is this helping?” I asked, laughing in spite of the pleasure coursing through me.
“I’m relaxing you,” he murmured into my ear, rolling his hips against mine as one hand slipped down to palm my bare ass.
My head tipped back as I gave in to the sensations he was drawing out in me. But before things could go any further, he pressed a kiss to my throat and released me, stepping back and biting his bottom lip as he took in the sight of me, naked and flushed.
He cocked an appreciative eyebrow, then slipped out the door.
“I don’t feel relaxed!” I called after him, and his laughter drifted down
the hall, making me grin in spite of myself.
Trying to ignore the flush I could feel creeping across my chest, I grabbed a dress from the closet. It was one of only a few dresses I’d bothered to keep when we’d had to give up most of our possessions. I’d figured I wouldn’t need many, and I’d been right.
This one was probably a little too classy and elegant for the type of club we were going to, but at least it wasn’t a floor length ballgown. It was a little black cocktail dress that fell to my mid-thigh and draped across my curves in a way that accentuated them without being obvious about it.
When I stepped into the living room, the reception I got brought a pleased blush to my cheeks. Misael stared at me almost as hungrily as he had when I was naked, and Bishop and Kace both stopped what they were doing to run their gazes over me.
“Fuck, Princess. I’m liking this plan more and more,” Bishop said, a small smirk tilting his lips.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Kace wrapped a hand around my wrist and tugged me toward him, resting a hand on my hip as we headed for the door. Heat reflected in his eyes just like in the other two boys’, but I could tell he was on edge, worried about how the night would go.
I pressed a little closer to him as we stepped outside and gave his hand a squeeze when he opened the front passenger door for me.
It took us twenty minutes to reach our destination, and I peered out the window as Bish pulled up out front.
Spotlight was a club unlike any I had ever been to. The country clubs and smoking lounges that the Baltimore elite often attended, with their understated, minimalist but expensive décor, were a far cry from the neon fever dream that was Spotlight. Roaming beams of light shot into the night sky outside the building, with thumping bass seeping out onto the street every time the front door opened, patrons either filtering in or stumbling giddily out.
I had to admit, a thrill of excitement ran through me as we approached the large building, not just because of the prospect of this meeting, but also from the atmosphere that bled out of the club and the patrons filtering in and out of it. Something about it was invigorating. Enticing.