She looks up at me, biting her lip. Hopelessness weighs down my shoulders as I take in her pale face. She’ll want my forgiveness, but I’m not sure I have any left for her.

“Then why are you still completely off your face twenty-four hours later?” I say, my voice dropping.

“Because John’s here,” Ali motions to Naked Guy, who’s back in the kitchen helping himself to my fruit bowl. Thankfully, doing so full clothed. “Convinced me to have more while I was under the influence.”

“It’s Jake actually,” Naked Guy interjects.

Ali slaps her hands down onto her thighs. “Jake, John, whatever,” she says, flustered. “We had another hit early this morning as we got home.” She eyes off Jake or John, whoever the hell he is, before zeroing back in on me. Does she not see what this was doing to her? Does she not remember she could be called into the police precinct at any time? That she could go to prison for this very reason?

“I’m sorry, okay. I assumed he would have left as soon as he got up this morning. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

I breathe deeply and let out a sigh. She just doesn’t get it. I’d take seeing naked men’s asses everyday over watching her bury her worries with drugs.

“Look, you and I need to talk. This can’t keep happening if you’re going to stay here.”

I point to my front door, “John, the door is that way. Please see yourself out.”

“It’s Jake,” he reminds me. I glare at him, both mine and Alison’s strained expressions silently telling him to kindly fuck off.

“Okay then, bye.” Ever so quickly, he darts to the door while I argue with my sister like we’re children again. We talk. We argue. It won’t make an ounce of difference. It never has, so why would now be any different? Convincing Alison she needs professional help is as successful as talking to a brick wall. How am I supposed to help her when she won’t help herself?

I ball my hands into fists and shake my head, trying to control the disgust and anger wanting to break free. A lump forms in my throat just thinking about the words about to leave my mouth. “Ali, I can’t do this anymore. You need to get help, babe. I’ve tried my best but this, I can’t fix for you. The rehabilitation clinic I told you about, it’s got a good reputation. I checked it out a few days ago and it was nice. It wasn’t like a prison, Ali, and I know that’s what you’re afraid of. But you don’t have to be. I’ll help you and we’ll get through this.”

The anguish in her eyes nearly makes me cave, but I stay strong because there is no other option.

I clasp my hand over hers as a lone tear falls down her cheek. “It breaks my heart to see you like this, but I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t tear my own heart in two so I can save you. I need you to save yourself this time. Before it’s a real prison cell you end up in.”

Sitting silently, I hold her close, praying she makes the right decision. Her life may depend on it.

CHAPTER NINE

Lindsey

There are no choices; there is only one ending. I knew it back then, I know it now. I made peace with that knowledge. I didn’t deserve anything more, anything less. But Alison deserved a different end to her story.

A knock at the door sounds loud and I jump, jabbing myself in the eye with mascara.

“Ugh, awesome,” I mumble under my breath, my left eye watery with a black smudge just above it.

“I’ll get it!” Ali yells from somewhere in the loft. Quickly fixing my makeup, I make myself presentable, flattening any creases in my A-line pinafore dress and tucking the dog tags in where they’re hidden. Fastening my watch to my wrist, I blindly leave my room taking absolutely no notice of my surroundings as I walked up the hallway and run straight into a suit-clad chest. Arms fly out to steady me, and the unmistakable scent of mint and sweet grapefruit sends my libido into a wild frenzy. I inhale the tantalizing aroma I found comforting the first moment we met. The lids of my eyes close and my hips are sprung forward by the force of Mason’s hands. His cock hits my sweet spot and my eyes open involuntarily, the pleasure pulling me back to reality. I’m in a man’s arms. I’m in his arms, in my loft. My heart thumps rapidly as I wonder why he’s here.

His chiseled face hardens and his eyes gleam with raw desire as I take a step away, breaking his hold on me. “Ugh, thanks. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be standing right there. Here, in my home.”

I glance around for Ali, hoping like hell her high has worn off and when I spot her, she looks half decent. A weight lifts from my shoulders and I turn back to Mason.

He pierces me with a glance so much more than lust, and it squeezes my heart until I’m breathing uncomfortably. I don’t like that look. I don’t want to be on the receiving end. He’s searching for something terrifying. I can feel him reaching into my soul, watching my life play before his eyes, and I’ve never felt more exposed.

My heart rate spikes. Shifting out of his embrace, I grab my phone and keys off the bench and put them in my purse in an effort to gain some distance between us. The farther away from me, the better I can focus. He’s too alluring, too enticing. I scan the faces of Mason, Roamyn and Alison. The tension connecting us thickens. What am I missing here? After this morning’s argument with Ali, I already feel drained. Adding an unannounced visit from these two detectives is a reasonable cause for the unease resonating in my stomach.

“Detectives, what can I do for you?” I ask, dreading the answer already. A look passes between Mason and Roamyn, making my concern skyrocket.

“Maybe you should sit down. We have something we need to discuss,” Mason responds, his voice void of any emotion. Right, so we’re back to the emotionally challenged Mason again. God, he is confusing.

“I’ll be fine, Mason. Get on with it,” I snap without meaning to, my impatience getting the better of me.

Roamyn volunteers the information Mason seems apprehensive about. “We need you and Alison to take the stand in court a week from now, testifying against Giuseppe and Lucio Marino, and their associates. You just have to tell them what you saw the morning of the bust at Sweet Tarts. If you don’t, Alison comes with us. She’ll be charged with drug possession and prostitution. Help us and we’ll help her. Full immunity and the prostitution charges go away if she tells us what she knows and admits to being forced into prostitution by Giuseppe and Lucio Marino.

“Absolutely not, we won’t testify,” I deadpan.

Running a hand through the top section of his hair, Mason says nothing, just stares at me with a troubled expression. I know exactly what’s circulating through his mind. It’s the same craziness pumping my heart faster in my chest and running ice through my veins.

We testify, we’ll be killed.

We don’t testify, Alison goes to prison, and she’ll likely be killed anyway.

“Will testifying put them behind bars for good and get me out of a prison sentence? I don’t want to go to prison,” Alison chimes in, her eyes full of concern as she bites her bottom lip.

Roamyn answers the question on both our minds, even though I already know the answer.

No.

“We can’t guarantee they’ll serve out the sentences. But with your testimony and Lindsey’s, it’s likely many of them will go away for a long time. The DA might be able to take prison off the table, but you’ll still have to attend a drug rehabilitation clinic.”

Ali’s face turns ashen and she recoils into herself. Before I can blink, Roamyn is by her side, arms wrapped around her. A sob rips out of her and her chest heaves as tears cascade down her cheeks.

“Shh. It’s okay, I got you, babe,” Roamyn says softly in her ear.