Sebring
Page 90
“I’ve been kinda busy, Liv,” Georgie replied. “I said date the guy. You dated the guy, okay. Then you broke up with him without clearing that with me. Not okay.”
So now my sister thought she owned me.
I didn’t acknowledge her ludicrous reply.
I asked, “And did it occur to you to maybe ask if I wanted to get involved with Dustin Culver for a night or two or, say, the rest of my life?”
“You might wanna watch your mouth, girl,” my father warned.
I looked to my father, taking another step back, which was chicken, but doing it saying, “No, Dad. I wouldn’t,” which scared the shit out of me saying it but it was very much not chicken.
Dad’s face screwed up, his body tightened, and mine did too because I knew he was about to lose it.
But I wanted him to.
I wanted him to beat the living daylights out of me.
And when I crawled to the police and pressed charges then went home to Nick with the umbrella of protection he could offer me, I wanted to watch them squirm.
Because I heard things. I did things.
I knew things.
I knew better than to turn rat. I had Shade blood running through my veins. That was never going to happen.
But I’d never been one of them. I’d never fit. They knew that.
So they didn’t know I’d never turn rat.
I was done.
Utterly finished.
Nick could keep me safe. He’d promised. And even Dad had said he and his brother were untouchable.
He’d make me the same way.
I believed.
I fucking believed.
So fuck them.
“Tom,” Georgia muttered, turning slightly toward Tommy, who was now on the move, coming my way.
“I’d really rather it was Dad who finished the job, Tommy,” I told him.
“Quiet, Liv,” he murmured, getting close.
Taking my elbow in a firm grip, he turned me to the door.
“Good. You get him to get her outta my fuckin’ sight and then you get her shit sorted, Georgie.” I heard Dad order as Tommy escorted me to and out the door. “You get me?”
“It’ll be handled, Dad,” Georgia replied, managing to sound both conciliatory and annoyed.
It’d be handled, my sister offering me up as Shade property.
Oh yes, I was so done with my family.
Tommy shut the door behind us and I let him walk me five feet down the hall before I tried to twist my arm free.
His grip tightened to the point of pain, and in surprise, my head shot to the side and back to look up at him.
He’d never touched me like that.
“Tom, let me go,” I hissed, twisting now not only to get loose but against the pain.
“Shut the fuck up, Liv,” he clipped angrily, not letting go but now manhandling me toward my old office and in.
Everything was still there except my personal effects. The décor. The furniture. Nothing had changed.
And I would find, in short order, that was agonizingly correct.
Nothing had changed.
Not.
One.
Thing.
Tommy pulled me in several feet, let me go and shut the door.
He turned to me and I braced in shock when I saw his face was a mask of fury.
“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” he whispered, his tone harsh with rage.
“You know,” I returned conversationally, “I don’t need you to be ticked, Tommy. My father striking me four times to push the point home about Dustin Cul—”
Suddenly, he rushed me.
I scurried back, hit a chair, hit a table and hit wall, Tommy pinning me there with his body and his anger.
“I’m not talking about Culver, Liv. I’m talkin’ about Nick Sebring.”
Fear slamming through me, I stopped breathing.
“Yeah,” he bit off. “Harry told me.”
Oh God.
Harry?
I didn’t have to verbalize the question. Tommy was more than ready to give me the answer.
“Taught you how to take the tracker off your car. Taught you how to spot a tail,” Tommy explained. “Seein’ as it’s comin’ clear you got shit for brains, never occurred to you, he taught you how to spot a tail, he’d know how to tail you without you spotting him.”
“But why would he even do that?” I asked quietly, unable to make my voice even a normal volume.
“For money. For me,” he ground out, jerking a thumb at himself miraculously in the minimal space he’d allowed. “For us,” he went on.
I shook my head. “Us?”
“Fuck, Liv, do you pay attention at all?” he asked.
Apparently, I didn’t.
But I thought I did.
“Tom, I—”
“Your sister is taking over,” he said low, getting even closer to do it. “Your dad’s goin’ down, Liv. She’s maneuvered him right out. He’s been so taken up with findin’ new sources of horse and blow, comin’ up with crazy-ass bullshit schemes like marryin’ his daughter to some asshole he’s convinced is gonna be the next fuckin’ president, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention, generally fucking things up doin’ stupid shit, like gettin’ caught up in that human trafficking bullshit that almost brought us all down. He didn’t see it.”
There was a lot there, none of which I got to process because Tommy was still speaking.
“Now, when Georgia’s in charge of things, and she will be and she will be soon, things’ll change. And those things changing means I get you. You get me. She gets Gill. Your dad gets ousted however she’s got planned to oust him and she’s got plans, Liv. Make no mistake about that. She is not fuckin’ around. Not anymore.”
So now my sister thought she owned me.
I didn’t acknowledge her ludicrous reply.
I asked, “And did it occur to you to maybe ask if I wanted to get involved with Dustin Culver for a night or two or, say, the rest of my life?”
“You might wanna watch your mouth, girl,” my father warned.
I looked to my father, taking another step back, which was chicken, but doing it saying, “No, Dad. I wouldn’t,” which scared the shit out of me saying it but it was very much not chicken.
Dad’s face screwed up, his body tightened, and mine did too because I knew he was about to lose it.
But I wanted him to.
I wanted him to beat the living daylights out of me.
And when I crawled to the police and pressed charges then went home to Nick with the umbrella of protection he could offer me, I wanted to watch them squirm.
Because I heard things. I did things.
I knew things.
I knew better than to turn rat. I had Shade blood running through my veins. That was never going to happen.
But I’d never been one of them. I’d never fit. They knew that.
So they didn’t know I’d never turn rat.
I was done.
Utterly finished.
Nick could keep me safe. He’d promised. And even Dad had said he and his brother were untouchable.
He’d make me the same way.
I believed.
I fucking believed.
So fuck them.
“Tom,” Georgia muttered, turning slightly toward Tommy, who was now on the move, coming my way.
“I’d really rather it was Dad who finished the job, Tommy,” I told him.
“Quiet, Liv,” he murmured, getting close.
Taking my elbow in a firm grip, he turned me to the door.
“Good. You get him to get her outta my fuckin’ sight and then you get her shit sorted, Georgie.” I heard Dad order as Tommy escorted me to and out the door. “You get me?”
“It’ll be handled, Dad,” Georgia replied, managing to sound both conciliatory and annoyed.
It’d be handled, my sister offering me up as Shade property.
Oh yes, I was so done with my family.
Tommy shut the door behind us and I let him walk me five feet down the hall before I tried to twist my arm free.
His grip tightened to the point of pain, and in surprise, my head shot to the side and back to look up at him.
He’d never touched me like that.
“Tom, let me go,” I hissed, twisting now not only to get loose but against the pain.
“Shut the fuck up, Liv,” he clipped angrily, not letting go but now manhandling me toward my old office and in.
Everything was still there except my personal effects. The décor. The furniture. Nothing had changed.
And I would find, in short order, that was agonizingly correct.
Nothing had changed.
Not.
One.
Thing.
Tommy pulled me in several feet, let me go and shut the door.
He turned to me and I braced in shock when I saw his face was a mask of fury.
“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” he whispered, his tone harsh with rage.
“You know,” I returned conversationally, “I don’t need you to be ticked, Tommy. My father striking me four times to push the point home about Dustin Cul—”
Suddenly, he rushed me.
I scurried back, hit a chair, hit a table and hit wall, Tommy pinning me there with his body and his anger.
“I’m not talking about Culver, Liv. I’m talkin’ about Nick Sebring.”
Fear slamming through me, I stopped breathing.
“Yeah,” he bit off. “Harry told me.”
Oh God.
Harry?
I didn’t have to verbalize the question. Tommy was more than ready to give me the answer.
“Taught you how to take the tracker off your car. Taught you how to spot a tail,” Tommy explained. “Seein’ as it’s comin’ clear you got shit for brains, never occurred to you, he taught you how to spot a tail, he’d know how to tail you without you spotting him.”
“But why would he even do that?” I asked quietly, unable to make my voice even a normal volume.
“For money. For me,” he ground out, jerking a thumb at himself miraculously in the minimal space he’d allowed. “For us,” he went on.
I shook my head. “Us?”
“Fuck, Liv, do you pay attention at all?” he asked.
Apparently, I didn’t.
But I thought I did.
“Tom, I—”
“Your sister is taking over,” he said low, getting even closer to do it. “Your dad’s goin’ down, Liv. She’s maneuvered him right out. He’s been so taken up with findin’ new sources of horse and blow, comin’ up with crazy-ass bullshit schemes like marryin’ his daughter to some asshole he’s convinced is gonna be the next fuckin’ president, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention, generally fucking things up doin’ stupid shit, like gettin’ caught up in that human trafficking bullshit that almost brought us all down. He didn’t see it.”
There was a lot there, none of which I got to process because Tommy was still speaking.
“Now, when Georgia’s in charge of things, and she will be and she will be soon, things’ll change. And those things changing means I get you. You get me. She gets Gill. Your dad gets ousted however she’s got planned to oust him and she’s got plans, Liv. Make no mistake about that. She is not fuckin’ around. Not anymore.”
