Our Finest Moment ✔️

21

COLTON

My stare is fixed on Mark as he sits in front of my desk with a thoughtful expression on his face. In the middle of everything with Liana, and now Ron—which turned out to be a wild goose chase—I forgot about the possibility of my family dropping by whenever they wanted to.

So right now, I'm both scared shitless that Liana will come home and my mother will squeal, yell and interrogate us, and worried that Mark has zero advice for me about the whole police-situation. It's all messed up, and I regret making a deal with Liana now that Ron had nothing more to say than the fact that he's an idiot. If I could only focus on one thing at a time, this wouldn't have been an issue. I would've figured out Ron was nothing days—maybe even over a week—ago.

But no, I had to see a pretty girl in my cell and somehow end up with a crazy sex-arrangement to get her father's people in the palm of my hand.

"Kenneth probably has nothing, Colt, there's nothing to worry about," Mark finally says with a sigh. He gets to his feet and runs a hand across his face. "You're careful, you always have been."

"He's a dumbass," I say through gritted teeth, "and he told me he wouldn't let it go. He's bound to find something. I've murdered, stolen and committed more felonies the past decade than I can even remember."

"Yes," Mark agrees, "but you also have tens of people backing you up. Hundreds, soon, if the Henderson-legacy still has some people left."

"I should lay off the gun trades, maybe," I ponder, my eyes moving down to the black wooden floor. "Or tighten the ropes on the drugs."

"What about the laundering?"

The question makes my gaze snap back up, reminding me of the plans I had to expand. I nod. "I'll put a pin on that," I say, crossing my arms. "Thanks. I'm overworked and can't think straight."

The excuse is true, yet so far from the truth that it can be. I'm exhausted from thinking about and worrying about Sergeant Bell and his horde of detectives and officers, and I can only hope his Captain tells him to lay off the case—since there is no case.

"Having a woman in your house does that to you," Mark jokes, grinning.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Fuck off."

"How's it going between you two?" he asks, not even considering to listen to my words. "Is she still running her mouth?" When I only nod in response—because I'm not sure I want to tell my stepdad I promised to fuck her every time she disobeyed me—he adds, "Maybe you've met your match, Colt. If you're ever going to find a partner in life, they have to be strong and stubborn, and not be afraid of you. I hope she isn't."

I snort. "She definitely isn't." My head shakes as I start to think about her. "She should be," I say, "and if she undermines me in front of anyone other than Dorian, I might kill her on the spot."

Mark raises a brow. "Other than Dorian?"

"She told me off for making him mop the store the other day," I explain, running a hand across my face. "They're friends, so it's natural to want to protect him, I guess."

"Wait." Mark puts his hands up, almost like he's praying, and stares at me with a wide grin. "Dorian is friends with her, and you let that happen?"

I groan, not wanting to explain all the reasons why I both despise it and tolerate it. I don't even know half of those reasons myself, they're just...there. And they're blocking my ability to think rationally.

"It's not like I could prevent it," I defend. "They've been practically joint at the hip since they met."

It's not even an exaggeration; before she said yes to my...proposal, I guess, he was in her cell with her most of the time he was supposed to just stay and watch the locked door. He also told me he had some kind of weird friend-crush on her, which makes no sense, but I have to admit it's nice she isn't entirely alone—and the fact that Dorian tolerates, or even likes, her presence must mean she's a decent person. Dorian and I have never been best friends, but I respect him, and I trust his judgment.. Which means Liana can't be that bad.