Page 31 of Primal
“That’s because some of us are busy working our way up the ladder,” I tease, pushing my beer to the side. I’m not a big beer fan but it’ll go well with the fried goodness I ordered for lunch. “Is that promotion any closer?”
“Should be.” Marco sighs and sets down his already half-empty beer. “But there’s always someone who’s a friend of a friend who could get chief before me.”
The police and the mob aren’t too different in that regard. It’s all about who you know and with whom you place your loyalty. One wrong move, and you’re up shit creek without a paddle.
“I’m sure you’ll get it. There’s no one who works harder than you.” I sigh wistfully, placing my chin in my palm. “It honestly feels like yesterday that we were even talking about you becoming a police officer.”
“Are you getting sentimental on me, Fiora?” Marco jokes, reaching over the table to flick my nose with his finger. “Thinking about yesteryear?”
I scrunch my nose and lean back. I hate when he does that, but he never listens. We return to awkward silence, and I wonder if it’s always been this way between us. Hard.
Our appetizers arrive, and Marco immediately digs into the boneless wings before the waiter even places down the napkins and utensils.
“I mean, when I first met you, you didn’t even know what major you wanted.”
“It was a waste of thousands if you ask me,” he says, mouth half-full of chicken. “That school is insanely expensive. Some of us don’t have Godwin-type money, you know.”
Normally, I can brush off his good-natured jokes and answer with a quip of my own, but something about it this time stings.Using Daddy’s money to parade around like a princess,Braken’s voice rings in my mind. It’s louder than the other patrons and the pop music playing over the speakers. I shiver, running my hands up and down my jacket-covered arms to ward off goosebumps. I worked hard to get my degrees, even if my father paid the hefty university tuition for it.
“Yeah,” I say, reaching out for the last piece of chicken before Marco can finish it off. He’s already halfway through the cheesy nachos by the time I’m done. “But still, it’s nice to see you achieve your dream and all.”
Especially since mine died a long time ago. All that studying, and for what? To be a socialite who hopped around parties in Seattle, spending Daddy’s money and waiting for the day I’d get to use my multi-thousand-dollar degree. Now it is even more useless because I am doomed to become nothing more than Braken Frost’s trophy wife. At least Jescie and Sable aren’t getting married right away. They still have a little time. To Papa, we aren’t anything more than cattle he can sell off whenever he feels like it.
All for the family.
“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy. I’m getting so much more responsibility and all that. But everything’s been on hold since… you know.”
Since the day my life changed. Since my brother was taken from me. Since our family lost everything.
“I know,” I answer quietly, setting down my fork. “Actually, I was wondering about that.”
Marco narrows his eyes at me, and I pause. For some reason, he looks angry, and I can’t place why. Is asking about my brother’s case really a crime? I blink and the look is gone, replaced with a lopsided grin. Did I just imagine that?
“I don’t know anything, Fiora,” he says. “I’m as clueless as you.”
“No one’s talking about it?” I lean forward across the table. “It’s a pretty big deal. It was all over the news.”
“The Feds are doing their own investigation.” Marco throws an arm over the back of his chair. It’s an awkwardly casual position for discussing my brother’s murder. “I’m Seattle police, so I have to take a step back.”
“Can’t you offer help? Have both sides work together?”
“And step on the wrong toes?” His question is incredulous, and so is his laughter. “Listen, I’m high up, but the big brass won’t hear of it. It could get us in trouble.”
I think of Braken, who, despite changing the subject, never refuted me when I asked about leads. That means he’s looking into the murder himself and bypassing the useless Seattle cops. The information should soothe me, but if anything, I feel colder. Marco is the one who should be helping me, but it’s a literal stranger who knows how to work my pussy until I’m?—
I reach out for my beer and take a few large gulps to ward off that thought. But it’s too late—my body flushes hot at the memory of Braken’s hand between my legs. I need to focus.
“Whoa, calm down there, Fiora,” Marco chuckles. “You want another?”
I shake my head, setting down my nearly empty drink and dabbing at my lips.
“Our main dishes should be here soon?—”
“No one’s come to talk to me,” I press on. I won’t let him change the subject. “It’s almost been a week. Shouldn’t I be interviewed or something?”
“We’re still on this?” Marco sighs like I’m some annoying student, and he’s my teacher. “Why are you so hung up on this?”
“Because I?—”