Deep (20 page)

Colin was already heading in that direction, clearly familiar with the layout of this safe house.

“Right,” I said. “I’ll just let you talk.”

He paused and turned back. “You should come with me when I leave.”

My chest felt tight. “Oh?”

“You’re in danger. I can take you to the shelter. No one will find you there. And Luke can get the cops involved with getting your brother back.”

I felt confused, adrift. I wasn’t even sure anymore. I had thought Philip had more power, more connections in the underworld than anyone. And then in the pawn shop, it had seemed as if the kidnapping was connected to him somehow—which made it more imperative that I stay close to him, that I use his methods.

But maybe I was just fooling myself. Maybe I was just hoping for some kind of dark fairy-tale ending where Tyler would be fine. Maybe the cops could resolve this.

“What would you do?” I meant the question honestly, almost desperately. “If it was Allie’s brother or—”

I couldn’t bring myself to even suggest Allie’s young daughter, even as a hypothetical situation.

“I would blast them into the ground,” he said without pause. “And if I didn’t have enough firepower myself, I’d use Philip to do it.”

His eyes held mine in a shared moment of understanding—that the world had taught us one way to deal with problems. The cops, the authorities.
Trust the system.
But our experiences went outside that. They showed us that we couldn’t trust the system. We could only trust power.

I didn’t hear anything coming from inside the room for the hour that passed, and I considered that a good sign. I knew there was discord between them, but if they didn’t come to blows and didn’t shout at each other, things couldn’t be that bad.

Then I wondered if the room had extreme soundproofing—and started to worry again.

When Colin came out, he seemed tense but all in one piece.

“You should come with me,” he said softly, with something like sympathy in his voice.

“But you said—”

“That’s what I would do, but that doesn’t mean it’s the safest choice. And if I used Philip to get at my enemies, I would expect to pay a price.”

Under his regard I flushed hotly. I already had paid a price, with my body. Judging by the even look Colin gave me, he’d guessed as much. Or maybe Philip had told him. Had they discussed me? Had they discussed
that
? I lowered my gaze.

He sighed, resigned. “I didn’t think you would come, but I had to offer.”

After locking the door behind him, I was drawn like a magnet to the workout room. The hidden door to the office had been left partially open. I hoped that Philip would be in a calmer state.

He was sitting in the same place he had been during the small hours of the morning, when I’d left him. No shirt, his broad chest and tattoo striking. The tight muscles of his abs bunched as they led to his slacks. In his hand an empty glass dangled. His expression was hidden in the shadows of the room.

These rocks were jagged and sharp—the kind that jutted up from the ground in asymmetrical triangles, treacherous to climb. This was where an explorer might choose to turn back. This was where a person might fall, bleeding and broken between the rocks, never to be seen again.

Colin had thought I should turn back. He’d thought I would fall.

I sat on the leather ottoman opposite him, clutching the butter-soft leather in my hands. “Back when Adrian was describing the man he was with, the one he told about me…he said he looked like you. And it seemed like, like maybe you knew who he was talking about.”

“Always curious,” he said darkly, and unlike when he called me
kitten,
it didn’t sound like a compliment.

But regardless of whether it was a compliment, it was definitely the truth. I was curious—always pushing, always digging. And this was important enough that I wouldn’t give up. “Do you know who he is?”

“I might.”

“Who?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” A humorless laugh. “‘He could have been your brother.’”

My eyes widened. “Colin? No.”

Colin didn’t even look like Philip—not exactly. They both had a large build, big hands, and deep scowls. But that was where the similarities ended. Philip’s hair was dark, almost black—and Colin’s was a pale brown, at least what I could see of it in the short crop. And while both of their eyes could be cold and cruel, Philip’s eyes were so much darker and expressive than Colin’s, who kept everything well contained behind thick walls.

It didn’t make sense that Adrian would have been with someone like Colin just to simulate being with Philip. It also didn’t make sense that Colin would ever do that, considering he was happily married to Allie.

“Not Colin. Someone else.”

I blinked. But Colin was his only brother. There were three Murphy siblings: Philip, Rose, and Colin. “I don’t understand.”

Philip’s gaze studied me, almost challenging. “I know you liked that I was so loyal to my family. That I took care of them. It reminds you of what you never had.”

I couldn’t help but flinch. This was what dangerous rocks were like, slippery and sharp. “You didn’t take care of them, you pushed them away.”

He nodded. “I pushed them away, but I made sure they were safe. It’s part of why you were so interested in me from the beginning. Because if I could protect them, then there was hope for you too.”

It was getting harder to breathe.
Don’t get a panic attack now,
I told myself sternly. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that it’s a lie. I wasn’t loyal to family. Didn’t protect them. At least, not all of them.”

I sucked in a breath. “There was another brother?”

“A half brother. I didn’t find out about him until later, after our parents had passed and I had gotten Rose back from the foster homes.”

“God, Philip. That wasn’t your fault. Whatever happened to him—”

“You have no idea what happened to him,” Philip growled. “I don’t either, because I turned him away. My custody of Rose was already uncertain. Even though I had a legit job, it didn’t pay much, so I had to earn extra on the side so I could bribe the judge.”

“You bribed the judge?”

“Fuck yes, I bribed the judge. You think they’re some kind of holy ground? Fucking pricks, claiming they were acting in her best interests. They were
hurting her
in that home, in that school. I would have taken her and disappeared if they hadn’t given me custody.”

This is where you come from. This is who you are.
The words didn’t only apply to me. They applied to him, and the father who had hurt him, the mother who he believed he’d failed, the sister he had saved. The brother he hadn’t been able to help. Philip had grown up so quickly, scaling up the ranks of the criminal underworld in order to protect his family—in order to protect himself.

My heart squeezed. “Oh Philip.”

“Get dressed,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

I fidgeted, wondering where this dark path had led him. I’d wanted to ask questions, to dig, to uncover what was underneath. I just wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever I had unearthed. “I am dressed.”

“In something warmer. Shoes. Jacket.”

“Oh. Are we…going somewhere?” He just stared at me. Okay, dumb question. “Where are we going?”

“To find who’s pulling the strings. To find my brother.”

“The drop is tomorrow. You said you’d give me the ransom.” I made my voice even, as if I wasn’t pressuring him—even though, God. He knew it was life or death. “Are you still going to?”

“I’ll protect you,” he said fiercely, and the promise of it, the strength, was so alluring I fell into it. His dark gaze held me captive, and I swam around in its depths. And it was only later that I realized he hadn’t answered my question after all. He’d said he would protect me.

He hadn’t said he would save my brother.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

W
E ARRIVED AT
the docks around six p.m.

I knew where we were because of the smell, faint at first—then a slap in the face when Philip opened the car door. This wasn’t the clean-cut touristy Navy Pier with its ice cream shops and Ferris wheel. This wasn’t even the industrial sector where sweaty laborers would wolf whistle as you walked by.

This was the abandoned section, the one everyone, even city-wise tough guys, knew to avoid. The streets were cracked wide in some places, a river of debris running through it. In other places there were burnt-out shells of cars piled up like crawfish at a bake.

The warehouses sat empty—or so they seemed, with signs too faded to read and heavy chains on wide panels. One of them was charred and bent, as broken as the cars that were stacked beside it. It was jarring to realize that any fire could affect metal this way—nothing was immune to the destruction of dangerous men. Men like Philip.

“Why are we here?” I asked, not leaving the comfort of the sedan. There was a shiny new Rolls Royce and a vintage Shelby in his garages, but he had chosen to drive a nondescript black town car. That was worrying, because it meant we weren’t going on a date or a nice drive in the country. It meant we were going to do something illegal.

“Stay close,” he said, turning to walk away before I could answer.

Shivering, I stepped into the cool night and closed the door behind me. The sound of it reverberated through my bones. The bottom of my sneaker slipped on slick gravel before I righted myself. Philip was almost to the warehouse side door before I caught up with him.

The door swung open, revealing a man in a black T-shirt that stretched over tight muscles and black cargo pants. His eyes were flat and cold. He was muscle. A mercenary.

Behind him I had the impression of tables loaded high and crates stacked in corners. Of other men like him, waiting. They were too far in shadows to see.

The mercenary was similar to Raine in the way he studied me, except this man wasn’t evaluating me for my value—he was evaluating me as a threat. Apparently finding none he turned to Philip. “We’re ready to go.”

“The courthouse?” Philip asked as if confirming.

The man nodded. “He’s working late.”

“Good,” Philip said. “Ella here needs to see this. Wouldn’t want his pristine reputation destroyed by the truth.”

The tone mocked me a hundred different ways—for being weak, for having morals. For having a father who had something to hide. But I didn’t even have time to be offended. I was too caught up in what would happen next. “Wait. We’re going to…question someone?”

That was probably a polite term for what would really happen. A shakedown. Torture.

The men ignored me.

“Three around back, two in front,” the mercenary said. “Three in with you. Clean entry, clean exit.”

“Of course,” Philip said, somehow managing to imply a threat even though the man in front of us probably had five different weapons strapped to his body right now. And he would know how to use them.

Philip would only hire the best.

But he also managed to command respect from the scariest criminals in Chicago.

The man inclined his head in both agreement and deference. “The girl?”

“She comes with me,” Philip said.

“The girl has a name,” I cut in, annoyed. “And she doesn’t like being ignored. Where are we going?”

The mercenary’s expression remained impassive, but I thought I saw a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. He even seemed a little impressed.
Nice to meet you too.

Philip and the mercenary were both packed with muscles and weapons and years of experience committing violent acts. I had experience with surviving when people tried to kill me, of shouting when people tried to silence me—of staring back, unflinching, into the face of evil.

You know, we all had our strengths.

Philip turned to me, eyes narrowed. “You wanted me to find your brother. What did you think I was going to do? Put his picture on a fucking milk carton?”

“I
want
you to tell me where we’re going and what we’re doing. I want you to tell me who we’re going to see. And what I want most is for you to treat me like an equal.”

Philip turned to the man. “Load up. We leave in five.”

The man studied me, something like respect in his flat eyes. Then he turned and shut the door behind us, leaving us alone—for five minutes, apparently.

Then Philip’s hands were on my arms. My back slammed into the rough metal wall—my head would have too, but his hand was there, catching me, sliding down to my neck, tilting my face up to his.

“Let’s get this straight,” he murmured. “We are not equals. I am the bars and you are inside me, trapped here, and I’m never fucking letting you go. You can touch me, you can fight me. But you can’t ever leave.”

My heart thumped in something like acknowledgment. It made me angry. “Hurt me, then. If you’re so bent on scaring me, on keeping me low.”

“I don’t have to hurt you,” he said, sound almost forlorn. “I just have to keep you.”

“I hate you,” I whispered, and I didn’t just mean him. I hated my adoptive parents, who had kept me out of pity. And I hated him for keeping me out of lust—a twisted, obsessive desire.

“Good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Then it won’t be worse when I do this.”

That was the only warning I had before he bent his head. His hand kept my chin tilted up. I had no choice but to accept him, his lips firm and demanding against mine. He flicked his tongue across my lips, and in surprise I opened to him. Then he was inside me, licking me, tasting me, sliding his tongue with mine.

He rubbed his heavy body against my front, and without meaning to, my leg twined around him. I could feel his arousal through my jeans and his slacks—throbbing and insistent.

Then his hands were on my jeans, pulling down the zipper.

I fought it then, surprised, in denial. “No,” I said against his lips, still breathless. “Not here.”

“Here,” he said, like gravel, cupping my sex over my panties. “Anywhere I please.”

Then his fingers slid beneath the elastic band, and he was touching me intimately, his fingers slipping through wetness. I closed my eyes, face heating in humiliation. Humiliation that I didn’t want this, but my body
did
want this, even up against a dark warehouse filled with weapons and who knew what else.