Page 10 of Last Man Standing

“You were far more tolerable the last few weeks. You didn’t like that I was at the house, but once Nova accepted my presence, you seemed to mellow out. But now your sister’s jumped on board, and your bullshit attitude has notched up a thousand points. Need a fuckin’ Xanax?”

“Ever consider my bad attitude might have something to do with the fact that you call this a board? Like we’re playing a fucking game. Meanwhile, that board is my actual life, and worse, the player is my sister.” His fiery eyes sizzle against the side of my face. “If you were smart, you’d mind your own business, leave the room whenever she enters it, and sew your lips shut, since you clearly lack impulse control.”

“I lack impulse control?” I bark out a cathartic laugh that sends Linc’s shoulders spearing high. “Bitch. Your beautiful sister slept in a room just ten feet from mine last night. I assure you, I controlled all my impulses for eight long-ass hours.”

His nostrils flare wide, fury filling his dark eyes.

“I’m not the dude who’ll mind his p’s and q’s just cos you need me to. I don’t give a fuck that she’s your sister, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck that in some weird, alternate universe, you and I could be friends. We’re not. Period. I don’t care about your feelings, I don’t give a shit about your stress levels, and I never censor myself just to keep the peace. Your sister is a smoke show. She’s beautiful, she’s age-appropriate, and most important of all, she’s right here, sleeping ten feet from my bed all night long.”

“I’ll kill you,” he snarls. “I’ll destroy your entire fucking bloodline if that’s what I need to do.”

I shrug. “If your sister crooks her finger, I will fuck her raw and mix our bloodlines. You seem to think the normal rules of society exist between us, like I should be polite and not check her out because of some strange brotherhood or some shit.” I bring the truck around a soft bend, my lips curling as Linc’s hand stretches toward what I know is a knife tucked by his ankle. “We ain’t brothers, Castro, and I’m the same ol’ Tank you used to have nightmares about. If you’re expecting me to conduct myself differently just because she’s your sister, then that’s on you. But—” I take out my Glock 20 and set it on my lap. Warning. Threat. A chance for him to reconsider his actions. “—Seeing as how we both have a vested interest in finding out what’s got her spooked, and we have about three minutes till we pull up at the house and lose our chance to discuss the matter, why don’t you share with Uncle Tank what you know, then we can figure out how to get her to talk. The longer we fly blind, the closer our enemies creep.”

He pats the bottom of his jeans down again, setting his foot on the floor and flexing his hands into fists. The muscles in his cheeks grit and release, anger and frustration duking it out to become his most powerful emotion. But there’s one thing I can say for Lincoln Castro: he’s a businessman at heart. A hunter in his soul. Scarlett may be his sister, and because she is, he’ll be gentle. But he wants this puzzle solved. Quickly. Before dead bodies litter the lawn.

“I spoke to this cop back home.” He releases his words on a gusting, unhappy exhale. “Detective Mills. Dude’s been watching over my sister for years now. He approached me after some shit went down with her, stuff she was too scared to tell me herself. He risked his badge and a claw hammer to the side of his face by coming to me, but he felt Scarlett needed family to know what was up.”

“So he’s got her back,” I grunt. “By going to you, he was looking out for her.”

“Yeah. He keeps tabs on her while I’m away from home. Lets me know she’s okay, so I don’t have to blow up her phone every damn day. Nagging could fracture our relationship, so Mills fills the gaps and tells me the things she’s more inclined to keep quiet.”

“Things like what?”

“Like, how her ex-boyfriend used to tune her up. Little taps here, little taps there.” Veins thicken against the side of his neck, pulsing and raging. “They lived together for a bit, and when he wasn’t hitting her, he was locking her outside in the middle of the night. In winter,” he growls. “She didn’t want to tell me, and she didn’t wanna tell our parents. She preferred dealing with that shit in silence. That’s how Mills met her.”

“On the streets?”

“Mm.” He glances down at his phone. “This prick was an expert in psychological warfare. He’d wake her dozens of times a night. Controlled the purse strings and blasted her for buying groceries. He had her in a state where she didn’t know if she had a home, a meal, or a stable life to count on. Every fucking day,” he snarls. “For a year, at least.”

“Where were you?”

“Working. Traveling. I didn’t know she was in a bad situation, since she never said a damn word about it, and the couple of times I’d met him, he seemed decent. Normal.” He gnashes his teeth together. “Fooled me. I guess Mills figured her out, realized she had a safety net but was too proud to use it, so on one of those rare times I was visiting my sister, and we happened to be in the exact right place at the exact right time, I got to meet Mills. She introduced him as her friend. He played along. He’s old enough to be our dad, so it’s not like my radar was pinging about him having the hots for her or anything. We chatted for a few minutes, which led to Mills asking about my work.” He peeks across and meets my eyes. “My legitimate investigative work. Cops are known to associate with investigators, so he asked for my card.”

“He called you?”

“Mmhm. Barely six hours later, he called and asked to meet again, but without Scar. I made my excuses the next day, got some distance, met him for coffee, and he told me everything he knew.”

“Good man.” I ease the pressure of my foot on the gas pedal, slowing us down so we don’t arrive home too soon. “He probably saved her life.”

“Yep. He told me to do whatever I deemed right with the information, but cautioned me to be gentle. He understood, just as I did, that she’s proud and loathes vulnerability. I stuck close to home for the next little while and sat at her table often enough to see her boyfriend’s mask slip. Just a little. Just enough to know Mills wasn’t full of shit. I invited Scar to my house five nights out of seven. Just to hang out. To eat. It was a matter of repetition, of catching her when she had something to say. When I asked the exact right questions, she gave a little more information. She wasn’t quite ready to leave him yet, so I promised I’d be near and that if she ever needed me, she only had to call.”

“She called? Eventually?”

He tips his head to the side, considering. “She was determined to deal with it herself, which is how she ended up with a split lip, a shiny black eye, and a broken wrist.”

My teeth come together with a snap as the crackle of her delicate bones plays on repeat in my mind.

“We finally had something real to show the cops, something physical, so I convinced her to make a report. We hooked up with Mills, he took her statement, and then he handled the situation accordingly. She broke up with the ex, asked him to leave their shared place, but he wasn’t budging, so I got her situated elsewhere. First at my place, and then a couple of months later, into a new apartment of her own.” Linc sucks on his bottom lip, seething with years-old anger. “That small dick piece of shit was escalating, like those types always do, and if Mills hadn’t reached out to me like he did, I mightn’t have known she needed help until it was too late.”

“So the dude’s a hero.” I bob my head forward, my eyes trained on the winding road as we make our way closer to the house. “I’ll buy him a beer if we’re ever face-to-face. You spoke to him just now?”

“Yeah.” He checks his phone again. Blank screen. No missed calls. “He said she texted just a little bit ago and wished him and his family well. She played the everything is fine and dandy role she sucks at so badly, but he knew she’d skipped town, which obviously makes a man suspicious. When I called, he was relieved to hear she’s with me, but worried, because his instincts were on point. Something is wrong.”

“And he doesn’t know why she’s here?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Nothing. You and I both know the ex is worm food.” He glances across and meets my eyes. “There’s no point being coy about it. That means he’s not the problem. Someone else is. I checked my parents’ security feed: nothing looks out of the ordinary over there. Checked my sister’s feed: her entire building was without power all day yesterday. No electricity means no Wi-Fi.”

“Convenient.”