There was a sound back in the house. I sat up straight as the door opened and Luke stepped outside. He frowned down at me for a moment, and I stared back. He wore only a pair of black gym shorts, and his bare muscular chest almost glistened in the moonlight. He stepped forward then sat down next to me with a sigh and took the beer from my hands without asking. He took a long drink then handed it back.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Can’t sleep,” I confirmed. “What are you doing up?”
“Got an alert that the door opened.” He arched an eyebrow. “I guess I should’ve warned you about the security system.”
I laughed softly. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s all right. Next time, turn off the system first, or come get me to do it.” He tilted his head, frowning. “Really, you should just stay inside.”
“I needed some air.” I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back on my elbows, stretching my legs out. When I opened them again, he was staring at me, at my legs then up at my chest before lingering on my lips. “Did I interrupt a pleasant dream?”
“You were in it, so it must’ve been pleasant.”
I took a long drink of the beer and finished it off. “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“How’d you get involved with the Morozov family?”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Typical story. Grew up with shitty parents and didn’t know any better. Met a few guys hanging around the block and they introduced me to some more guys, and eventually I was robbing houses and pulling small jobs. I moved my way up through the ranks and here I am today.”
“You’re loyal to them then.”
“Evgeni was the only one that ever gave me a chance in this world. Without him and the family, I’d probably be working some shitty construction job right now.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I doubt that very much.”
“There’s nothing for men like me in this world.” He watched me carefully, pretty lips parted ever so slightly, and I pictured them against my neck. “I was raised with nothing, you know? My parents were both drunks, Mom died when I was twelve, Dad’s off somewhere in Florida getting high or whatever the hell he does now. A lot like your old man, actually, except my dad had the good sense to fuck off.”
“You’re lucky then, I guess.”
“Lucky, maybe.” He stared out at the street, frowning to himself. “I had no chance. School was never going to happen for me, not with a home life like that, and what the fuck do you do without a high school diploma? I decided to sell drugs and steal and get in fights, because the other options were all worse.”
I chewed on that quietly as he cracked his neck from side to side. I knew what he meant—my life never seemed like it would amount to anything, either. My father was an anchor weighing me down, and the world didn’t care enough to give me a chance doing anything but the most basic jobs. I had the house and that was good, but I could barely afford the taxes on it each year while still feeding and clothing and heating and cooling, and it felt like I was forever running behind and desperately trying to catch up again.
The difference was, I didn’t turn to crime like Luke did. Maybe I should’ve—my father would’ve been more than happy to teach me everything he knew about breaking into houses and all the petty stuff he got into. It only seemed like it would be worse than working dead-end jobs. At least as a waitress, I wouldn’t get thrown into jail, even if the pay wasn’t great.
“I admire what you do, you know,” I said softly, almost whispering it.
He laughed. “Do you? I would’ve guessed you hated me and all the guys in the family.”
“It’s not so much the crime, but more that you’re trying to be your own person.” I looked at him and leaned closer. “You’re actually alive when I feel like I’m just drifting through the day.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m too alive, like I take too many risks, and I’m always chasing that high. You know what I mean?”
“I’m afraid that one day I’m going to wake up and my entire life will be behind me and I’ll wonder what the hell did I do with all my time? I went to work, I got a little money, I just kept going forward. That’s not really living, is it?”
He studied me carefully. “So what do you want to do, little princess?”
“I want to get through this alive to start.”
“You will,” he promised, shifting closer. His leg pressed against mine, his hip pressed tight. “What else?”
“I want to feel something.” I tilted my head back, looking up at the sparse trees. “I want to do more than just drift.”