Time with Mr. Silver: Chapter 27

“WHY ISN’T IT THAT fucking simple?” Fire burns in my veins, and I whip my head to the side, staring out the windshield and down the dark, abandoned alleyway.

“It’s not what we agreed.”

“Fuck that!” I slam my fist onto the dashboard, then let out a deep hiss. “You know what else we didn’t fucking agree? That I’d still be here, nine months later. Still doing it.”

I clench and unclench my fist, forcing in a deep breath before I squeeze the guy’s neck who’s sitting in the driver’s seat next to me. He may have helped get me Alistair’s name as a favor. But we both know it was more like a sweetener. He could sense I was distancing myself from him, from our agreement. And as much as we are both chasing the same outcome, he’s also got his boss breathing down his neck wanting results.

Still, the idea of snapping his neck isn’t completely unappealing right now.

But that’d be all I need, getting sent back inside for murder. Although, from what I know about guys inside, and how they view the man—and the other members of his ‘gang’—next to me, I’d get a warm reception and deserve a fucking medal in their eyes.

But that’s not who I am.

I’m not like them. Even if I fucking feel like the biggest criminal of them all some days.

Nine months of lying to everyone. Hiding this part of my life.

And for what?

To be told that even though I’m already three months over what we agreed that I still can’t walk away? I still can’t be free. I might not live in a cell sixteen hours a day anymore, but freedom still seems like something for other people.

Something still out of my grasp. Like a balloon floating in the air, its string out of reach. Until it’s gone. Behind the clouds. Forever a memory.

“C’mon, Dax. We’re close. So fucking close.” The guy next to me exhales stale cigarette breath and leans his elbow on the doorjamb of the car. “We just need this one shipment to go down, and then we’ve got him. Julian Young will no longer be your concern.”

I melt back into my seat as I stare out the window at the trash-lined alley. This is my life. Middle of the night meetings in dingy alleyways full of other people’s shit. I was stupid to think I could ever leave it all behind.

I squeeze my eyes shut and picture Rose. Her blonde hair, her clear blue eyes. Her trust in me. Misplaced, clearly. She’s so much better than I deserve. She believes in me. But I’m a man hell-bent on revenge. Or at least, I was.

Now I want out.

I want her.

I want to be worthy of her.

But the guy in the crisp gray suit next to me has other ideas.

“It’s just a few days. Then you’ll get what you wanted. Young will be finished, his business wiped out. He’ll be looking at years inside. And you can dance off into the sunset with the American.”

My eyes fly to his face, and if the heat of a glare could kill, then he would be a simmering pile of ash in the footwell.

“It’s my job to know what you’re up to. Don’t take it the wrong way. She looks nice.”

“Get her out of your fucking head.” I spin in my seat, launching out one arm and pinning him by his throat to the opposite window. He doesn’t flinch. He knows I can’t hurt him. Not if I ever want to live a normal life again. He’s higher up the food chain than me. And despite my disgust at the situation I’m in, I don’t blame him. He’s not a bad guy.

But I also dream of the day I’ll never have to see his face again.

He isn’t going on any fucking Christmas card list.

“She’s got nothing to do with this.” I release my grip on his neck, and he takes a couple of subtle deep breaths, straightening his collar with one hand.

“Of course. And I want to keep it that way.” He side-eyes me as I clench my jaw and concentrate on the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, breathing deeply until it quietens. “So just do this last shipment. Finish the job you set out to do. Get the closure. And then move on. You never have to speak to me again.”

“Best fucking news I’ve heard all year,” I mutter.

He snorts and shakes his head. “You’ve come this far. Don’t bail at the final hour. You can have everything you always wanted. Young won’t be your problem anymore. And you can do whatever you want to do.” He glances at me. “Three more days, that’s all.”

My jaw ticks as I stare out of the window.

Three more days.

I can do it. It’ll be fucking worth it.

Julian Young gone. A future with Rose.

“Three days,” I snap as I open the door and climb out. “And not a fucking second longer.”

The guy inside smiles at me before I slam the door shut. I pull my hoodie up over my head and shove my hands into my pockets, walking off into the night’s shadows.

“Rose showed me. It’s beautiful. You did a good job.”

I grunt in reply to Jasmin’s praise. I’ve never been good at accepting it. Especially from her. I still struggle to stop the image of her crying in the courtroom coming to me. Every once in a while I dream about it.

Can’t even escape in sleep.

I turn and lean back against my desk, crossing my legs at the ankle as my sister laughs.

“You need to learn to accept compliments.” She rolls her eyes as she walks over to the fish tank and sprinkles some food from a pot into it. She bends down to look at the small clown fish that swims up first to eat.

She’s got her long dark hair tied up today, and the top of her tattoo I did for her is visible above the neckline of her blouse.

J&A.

Pretty fucking cozy.

“What is it? I can sense your brotherly disapproval from here.” Jasmin straightens, placing the pot down and turns to face me.

“Your tattoo. Was it really for Mom and Dad?”

Her lips part as she stares at me. “Yes. Why would you even ask that?”

I shrug. “It’s just… J and A. Jasmin and Alistair also fits.”

My biceps tense as I fold my arms over my chest, the idea that my sister asked me to tattoo her lover’s initials on her neck, making out it was for our parents, has acid running through my veins.

“You’re a real prick sometimes, you know that?” She glares at me and then sighs, rubbing at her temples.

I purse my lips. “Sorry.”

She looks at me from under her brows. “You know I miss them as much as you, right?”

I sniff and lift my chin. I don’t want to get heavy right now. We both fucking miss them. I know that. Our life would be so different if they hadn’t died.

“I know you do.”

Jasmin sighs. “The coincidence with the initials did occur to me, yes. I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t. But I wanted a reminder of them. Just like you have one.” Her eyes go to the bird and flowers on my neck, and then to my chest, where the compass is concealed by my shirt. “I was going to ask you after… after that night at the business dinner. But life had other plans.”

“Didn’t it just?”

Jasmin meets my eyes, and her face softens. “The tattoo was for Mom and Dad. But then I met Al, and it felt…” She glances at the fish. “It felt right. Like it held a new double meaning. One for the past. One for the future.”

I nod in silence.

A double meaning. Just like the tattoo I did for Rose. Her past. And her future. She just needs to look and see. It’s all there waiting for her.

Jasmin’s gaze moves around the room as she breathes softly. “I know that’s not all that’s on your mind. So, what is it? What’s really wrong?”

“Nothing.” I fold my arms and roll my neck, the cracking only providing the merest relief to the tension that’s been clouding my head—and the rest of my body—for the past day.

Two days to go.

Forty-eight hours.

Then the past becomes the past.

Time moves on.

Except, call me a pessimist, but after all that’s happened to me, I’m not ready to start believing it yet.

“Have you and Rose had a fight?”

“What? No. Why? Did she seem upset about something?” I push off my desk.

If Jasmin thinks we had a fight, then maybe she saw Rose, and she was upset. Or there’s something wrong.

I’m halfway to the door to race to Rose’s office when Jasmin’s words stop me.

“You love her.”

I still, turning to face her. Her eyes are lit up like Fourth of July fireworks. I glance at the doorway. Rose is just down the hall. Too far to hear any of this. Yet, I want to go down there. Just to look at her face. To soak in the energy that races around my body when I’m near her. To check if she’s okay.

“Rose was fine when I saw her. She looked… She was glowing.” Jasmin flicks her eyes up and down my body with a smile. “Like you do when I say her name. I’ve never seen you like this before. You’re different around her. Calmer. Freer.” She claps her hands with a small squeal. “My brother’s in love.”

I abandon any idea of visiting Rose as Jasmin comes over to me and pulls me into a hug.

“I’m so happy for you, Dax. You deserve someone wonderful. And Rose is.”

I hug her back. She’s tiny in my arms. Much more like Mom than me, with her long dark hair. I inherited Mom’s eyes. But that was all.

“Yeah. She is.”

Too good for me.

Jasmin moves back from our embrace and smiles up at me, a weight of emotion held in her eyes. “It’s time someone got your love, Dax. Because I know there’s a whole lot to give inside that giant heart of yours.”

“Don’t go getting all soft on me, Sis.” My lips curl into a half smile as she searches my eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I want you to meet him.”

“What?” The smile slides from my face in a flash.

“Alistair. I want you to meet him.” She blinks up at me. “I think you’d get on, if you can just—”

“No!”

“Dax, please. He’s nothing like his dad.”

“Nothing like the man he shares blood with?” I snort, raising one brow.

Jasmin and I have been good in recent days. Finding out about Alistair was a shock. But I’ve been slowly coming to terms with it. She’s happy, and she’s told me constantly about what he did for her when I was in jail. How he kept her going.

When I abandoned her.

I at least owe him for that.

“He isn’t. He’s… he’s my Rose, Dax.” The light in Jasmin’s eyes dims, making guilt curdle in my stomach.

I’m an asshole.

My sister is happy. She’s fucking happy. And I’m ruining it for her. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy… and safe. I just wish a new puppy, or a new car made her happy. Not the son of the man I hate.

I run a hand around my jaw as I hold her eyes. She must sense my guard slowly slipping because she takes a step closer.

“Julian doesn’t know about me. You know that. Alistair has kept our relationship a secret too. He doesn’t trust his dad, Dax. You know he’s been looking into the business. Gathering evidence that he finds.”

Jasmin’s told me this already. Alistair is working on building a case against his dad. She said he loves him, but he can’t forgive him for the way he treated his mother. And for the way he’s using what started as her family’s business that he married into to fund his less than virtuous sidelines.

But can I really believe that? He’s still Julian Young’s son. And they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” Jasmin huffs. “I know you.”

“Fine,” I grit. “I’ll meet him. I can size him up for the grave he’ll need if he lets you down.”

She snorts. “He said a similar thing to a guy who tried it on when we were out once.”

“He’s going up in my estimations. Maybe I’ll give him some extra space to stretch out whilst he’s talking to the worms.”

“Dax.” She laughs.

I smirk. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my sister happy.

And seeing Rose happy.

These two women have got me by the balls, and I’m sure Jasmin knows it.

“We can set something up.” She pulls out her phone and taps out a message as she spins toward the door.

“Sure. Can’t wait,” I mutter as she throws me a look of undisguised delight that she’s finally wearing me down.

I shake my head as she leaves and then walk over to stare out of the large window at the fountain below, shoving my hands into my pockets.

Alistair is working against his own father. And Jasmin is helping him.

I could laugh about it. Throw my head back and really fucking laugh.

We’ve been doing the same thing.

All this time, I’ve been plotting my revenge against that asshole. Yearning for the day I can take Julian Young, and everything he cares about, down. And Jasmin and his own son have been doing the exact same thing. Granted, I doubt Alistair will be as ruthless in his efforts as I am. I doubt he pictures his hands around his dad’s neck, wringing his pathetic soul from his body. But he’s hardly going to win an award for son of the year, either.

Different approaches.

Same outcome.

Alistair might be building his own case against Daddy Dearest. But mine is almost complete.

Two more days.

Forty-eight hours.

My fucking freedom.

And it’s about time.