Page 18 of Mace
“I’ve never dealt with the Sons, but I know their reputation. Trust me, it ain’t a good idea to be in their orbit.”
“I can’t do that,” I say softly. “It took me months to get this job.” I’m not exactly qualified to do a whole lot else that pays as well. “I can’t afford to work a month in hand either.”
His gaze drifts to the rearview mirror to look at me. “Figure it out, Maylie. You have to,” he says, as if it’s that fucking easy.
Irritation sweeps through me. I don’t have the luxury of being picky or falling behind. There’s no one else to pick up the slack if I’m not bringing in money. “We worked for horrible people before and everything was fine. The Pioneers never came to the bar.” Once a month, they would meet with Sam in the office, but they never ran things. “Why is this any different?”
“Because it is. Just trust me on that.”
“I can’t afford to take the moral high ground, Steve. I have bills to pay, food to put on the table. As long as they’ll allow me to keep working, I will.”
His face gets darker and stormier. I sink back into my seat, a little afraid of his anger. “Did you not just hear what I said?”
“Steve,” Bella chastises, but he huffs a breath.
The man barely speaks to me unless it’s work-related, and now, he’s acting like an overbearing big brother. I don’t need him to get in my business.
“She can’t stay working there,” he mutters. “And neither can you. We all have to leave.”
The streetlights illuminate the car briefly as we passthem, and the traffic is building up but moving. “I’m staying,” I say. “If I get evicted because I haven’t paid my rent, social services will take my brother and sister into care. So, I’m sorry, but I’m going to do what I have to. You guys should do the same.”
“Who cares who’s in charge as long as we’re getting paid, right?” Bella tries to diffuse the swirling anger in the car as Steve falls silent.
I know he’s trying to look out for me, but what he’s saying isn’t helpful. I can’t change my situation, not overnight. As much as I would like to be picky, it’s not an option.
As he pulls up outside my building, Bella turns around and gives me an awkward hug. “I’ll call you in the morning,” she says, her eyes bouncing to Steve before coming back to me.
“Good night,” I give her a loose smile before turning to him, “and thank you for the ride.”
I climb out the car when it becomes clear he’s not going to reply. I want nothing more than to crawl into a hot bath before getting into bed, but now, I have to face Ivy. She’s going to be furious that I made her come home to take care of Toby, and less than an hour later, I’m back.
Steve speeds off without so much as a backwards glance, and I’m not sure why he’s so mad at me. We’ve worked for criminals all this time and it’s never been an issue. Granted, we rarely saw our former employers, but they still owned the business.
As I walk up to the front door, unlocking it and stepping into the foyer, my shoulders slump. I feel like all the air has been drained out of my body as I trudge up thestairs. The low thrum of noise is muffled behind the doors of each apartment.
This building is expensive—nearly everywhere is these days—but I pay more for the location. We’re a twenty-minute walk into the city and far enough out that it’s a little safer than being in the centre.
It is my one non-negotiable. I’ve always picked homes in decent areas. There’s no way in hell I’m raising my siblings in some dive apartment block, dodging drug addicts and thieves. So, I work all the hours I can to ensure they have at least this small amount of stability. The irony that I work for criminals is not lost on me, but that life never touches them.
As I approach the front door of my flat, I shelve my problems for now and brace for the argument I know is about to ensue.
“Shit.” I close my eyes for a brief second, finding my zen before I unlock the door and step inside.
I hear Toby’s video game loud and clear as I shrug off my bag, dumping it by the front door, and slide off my trainers. Feeling like there is a ten-tonne weight on my shoulders, I head down the small hallway towards the living area.
Toby doesn’t realise he’s no longer alone, which also fucking worries me. He needs to be more alert to his surroundings.
“Toby.” I call his name, and he jolts as if he’s been shot before quickly pausing his game.
“Shit. You gave me a heart attack,” he complains.
I have a headache blooming as I drop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions. “Have you been on this since I left? Have you done your homework?”
“How come you’re home early?” he asks, dodging my question, which means he hasn’t.
“Toby, I know you hate school, but when you don’t do what you’re supposed to, your teachers get annoyed and we end up on the radar of social services. Please, I know it’s boring, but just suck it up for me.”
Trying to explain consequences to him sometimes is like talking to a brick wall. “Fine.” He stands up, grumbling, but at least he seems willing to do it without an argument.