Dead Man’s Deal. Jocelynn Drake
know. They didn’t want you to know and, man, I’m a fucking idiot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not your fault.”
A short, bitter laugh escaped me as I looked over at him through narrowed eyes. “Yeah, not my fault that I was born a warlock, but it was my fault that I came home.”
“We never felt that way.” I frowned at him, not needing the lies. Robert squeezed my shoulder and smiled. “Well, okay, so maybe I was pissed at you for a year or two right before I dropped out of college, but then I got my shit together. Mom and Dad never regretted you coming home. Not once.”
“I ruined their lives. I’m guessing I screwed up yours pretty badly as well as Meg’s.”
Robert gave my shoulder a shove but didn’t let go when I started to look away from him. “It’s not your fault. Blame it on the assholes in the Towers. Hell, better yet, blame it on the assholes that ran us out of New England. They only focused on the fact that you’d been born a warlock—which could have happened to any one of them just as easily. They should have been focusing on the fact that Mom and Dad raised a kid who was smart and brave enough to fucking leave the Towers.”
I nodded, trying to breathe. “Thanks.”
Robert dropped his hand back to his lap while reaching for his drink with the other hand. I did the same and we both finished our first glass before either could speak again. The alcohol would numb the worst of the pain. There was truth to what Robert had said, all of what he said. It wasn’t all my fault, but by the same token, I should never have gone home when I was a teenager.
“You should go see them,” Robert suggested. He reached across the table and snagged the bottle, pouring us both a new glass.
“Mom and Dad?”
“Yeah. I know they’d love it. They miss you.”
I sat back against the couch and stretched out my legs, trying to ease the tension crawling through my frame. “I don’t know if it would be safe.”
“I think they would argue that it’s worth the risk.” Robert took a drink and smiled at me. When he spoke again, his voice was rough from the whiskey burn. “Do you honestly think it’s ever going to be safe? You’re wasting time.”
“You could always go talk to them first for me. Warn them that I’m in town, what I look like now so it wouldn’t be such a shock if I showed up on their doorstep.” Robert frowned at me and remained silent. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly subtle. I wanted to hear why he was no longer talking to our parents. “Did you fight?”
“No, not really.”
“So … what? You just stopped seeing them? Stopped answering the phone when Mom called?”
“Pretty much.”
I set my cup on the table and waited. Robert sighed before downing the last of his drink and placing his empty cup next to mine. “Things didn’t work out at college,” he started.
“Because of me.”
He shrugged. “Part of it, but I think I was looking for an excuse. I was tired of school, wanted to be doing something. I made some friends here that I probably shouldn’t have, started helping them out on the occasional job. I knew the business they were in, but I told myself that I wouldn’t get drawn in.” He stopped and stared down at his hands.
“But you did.”
Robert looked at me with a little self-mocking smile. “Reave came to me and offered me a job personally. Said I was good. He offered me a lot of money and I took it. I told myself that I wasn’t hurting anyone, so it was no big deal.”
I clamped my mouth shut. People were getting hurt by the things that Reave was into. Robert might not have been the one to pull the trigger or wield the blade, but anyone who supported Reave was only adding to the body count.
“Did Mom and Dad find out what you were doing?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so.” He stopped and threaded a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “They had such hopes for me at college and getting some big job in an office building wearing a tie and carrying a briefcase. Every time I went to see them, I had to see those hopes. Got tired of it, so I stopped going.”
I stared at the bottle of Jack on the table, a part of me wishing that I had brought up the Mordred. Numb and stupid would have felt a lot better than what I was feeling right then. After leaving for Low Town, I didn’t let myself think about my family much because I knew that I couldn’t go back, but I told myself that they were all happy and safe. Unfortunately, happy and safe were extremely relative terms, I was learning. All I knew was that they weren’t the kind of happy and safe that I had imagined.
“I’ll get you out,” I said in a low voice.
“What?”
I looked over at Robert, meeting his confused expression. “I’ll get you out. Get you free of Reave. I’m stuck with him holding threats over my head, but I’ll get you out when I get out.”
“I don’t want out,” he said. “Didn’t you hear me? The pay is good and I’m good at what I do. It might not be legal but I’m not hurting anyone. I don’t need you to rescue me.”
I sat speechless for a minute, staring at him. Between Bronx and me wanting out so badly, I had naturally assumed that Robert would consider himself trapped as well. But he wasn’t trapped. He was exactly where he wanted to be and … I was being an asshole. I might find Robert’s line of work distasteful, but I couldn’t judge him because he had chosen to color outside the lines. There was a good percentage of my own work that was off the books because it wasn’t exactly legal. Well, that and the whole warlock thing, which wasn’t illegal but it wasn’t a crowd pleaser either.
“Sorry,” I muttered, feeling like an ass while, at the same time, finding a whole new reason to hate Reave.
“No problem. Are you still going to help me? Reave said you would.”
I nodded as I moved to the edge of the couch. Snagging the bottle, I filled up my cup and Robert’s. I had a feeling that I was going to need this. “Keep you safe? Sure. What’s Reave got planned for you?”
“Nothing too major. I’m just a package boy.” Robert shrugged, but there was something in his expression that wasn’t quite modest. He might have been a package boy, but there was such a thing as a valuable package boy based on intelligence, courage, and resourcefulness. “He wants me to deliver some information to a buyer.”
“What kind of information?” Robert was silent so long that I finally looked over at him to find him frowning down at his whiskey. “You have to at least give me some kind of hint if I’m going to be able to protect you effectively. It will give me an idea of whom I’m protecting you from.”
“You don’t think we’ll be overheard here?” Robert asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.
It was a struggle not to whisper as well. “By who?”
“Them.”
Fuck. What the hell was Reave dealing in that my brother was worried about drawing the attention of the witches and warlocks? We all worried about the Ivory Towers, but for the most part, we didn’t worry about them listening in to our conversations. They pretty much ignored the fact that we existed until we stepped on something that did interest them. Apparently, Robert had stepped into something big.
Putting my cup on the table, I stood and quickly tapped the energy floating around in the air. It only took a couple of seconds and a brief wave of my hand to summon the silencing spell that was becoming a regular part of my repertoire recently. For someone who had chosen to break away from the Towers, I was frequently in the midst of things that would most interest them.
“Don’t move,” I said, flopping back down on the couch. “I created only a small bubble—attracts less attention. No one can hear you.”