Page 18 of Midnight Curfew

“Yeah.” His amused gaze narrows on me. “Philosophy, huh?”

I stroll to the end of the bed, checking out the box of presents he got from people last night. “Krisjen says it will enable me to make better excuses for my conduct.”

Iron spits his coffee back into his mug, his chest shaking with laughter.

Picking up a Playboy, I flip through it, tilting my head to admire the women’s flexibility. Positions like that always look hot, but it never feels right. I’ve tried.

“To be honest,” I say, “I’m not unhappy with where I fell.”

Clay, my sister’s girlfriend, got her parents to wrangle me an admission to St. Philip University, so I have to be nice to her now. I never would’ve gotten in otherwise. I barely graduated high school.

But after a year of online courses, I started attending some classes in person. One of my professors, Dr. Sarkander, is married to someone who sits on the board of admissions at Marymount, and making a decent impression in order to get some recommendations from my other teachers wasn’t a bad idea, either.

I shoot Iron a knowing look. “It sucks to be you, though.”

I might have liked another job, but his would not have suited me at all.

He just puts his mug on his bedside table, looking somber. “Oh, I don’t know…”

I shake my head. He can’t be serious.

But I’d love to see him try.

“Macon gave you a talk already, right?” I toss down the magazine. “The Saints will be doing anything they can to provoke you.”

“Let them have their fun.”

Iron’s been away too long. He needs to be reminded that the Ameses want our land. The threat is worse than ever, and soon, he’ll feel it again, too.

Four years ago, Macon made a deal with Garrett Ames and Jerome Watson. If my family can’t make the land in the Bay more valuable than his plan for hotels and recreation would, he’s going to appeal to the state to claim eminent domain. Meaning the government will provide just compensation for our properties and then kick us off, even if we don’t agree. Ames wanted to avoid the lengthy legalities and costs, and Macon got Krisjen away from Jerome in the deal.

The five-year grace period is coming to a close, though, and we still haven’t made the land more valuable. That they know of anyway.

We’ve just been strategically placing ourselves around St. Carmen in positions of influence.

Iron knows that I probably wouldn’t miss the land if we sold it. I’ve never been attached to anything.

But I will die making sure the Ameses never get it.

I also need to pay Callum back for what he tried to do to my sister four years ago.

“Mark my words,” I taunt my brother, “by the end of the summer, the Ameses will be gone from St. Carmen, and I’ll be smoking a fat fucking cigar in their pool.” I head for the door. “And the only people living in my mansion will be the maid…and the cook.”

Iron breaks into a smile, fucking finally, and meets my eyes. “Are they hot?”

What do you think?

I jerk my chin at him. “See you tonight.”

It’ll take a few days—maybe a few weeks—but Iron will be back to normal. Not only did he get used to not having all the things that made him feel so good, but he probably heard every inmate’s fucking sob story while he was locked up. It would mess with anyone’s head.

Pushing open the bathroom door, I lift the toilet seat and unbutton my jeans. Summer school starts tomorrow, and I didn’t get much sleep after coming in at two this morning. Trace had swung by when he closed the bar and grabbed me. I would’ve stayed longer, but that little confrontation with the Ministry diverted my focus, and I needed to think.

“Dallas,” Krisjen hisses, appearing in the hallway.

I don’t stop peeing. “Paisleigh’s at camp,” I gripe.

She grabs the door, pulling it closed. “Mars isn’t.”