by Ruby Vincent
“Kieran.”
I saw his jerky nod out of the corner of my eye.
“The day after our meeting, I received a phone call. I did not recognize the voice.”
“Deep. Guttural. Mocking.”
He gripped my shoulder. “He called you as well?”
“No, Richard. He opted to meet me in person,” I said, “while I was out with Adeline. The bullets did most of the talking.”
“Was Miss Redgrave harmed?” Damned if he didn’t sound genuinely concerned.
“Yes.”
A heavy pause blanketed the car.
“Did she survive?”
I hesitated. “Yes.”
He released me. “Thank goodness. I would’ve truly regretted if she died as an indirect cause of my actions.”
“Would you?” I pressed.
“Yes. She is a lovely young creature. Smart. Unique. The world is a more interesting place with women like her in it.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. I turned down a side street, considering my words carefully.
“You’d know from the private, quality time you’ve had with her.”
“She told you,” La Roche stated.
“Yes,” I forced out. “Adeline told me everything.”
“I could not help but sympathize. Like her, I have a few indiscretions in my past. I wasn’t as wise in my youth. I was learning—sharpening my skills. And there were mistakes along the way. Kieran dug up all of them. One page in his ledger holds the power to destroy my life and send me to prison. When whoever that was called demanding I tell him everything I knew about the Merchants, I had no choice but to give him your name.”
“You had a choice.” I slammed the brakes, flinging him at the dashboard. The red light taunted us both. “The name George Flanders would have done just as well.”
“Risk everything I’ve built to protect you?” he asked, lips curling. “Why should I? I figured a Merchant can take care of himself.”
“I’m not—”
He slashed his hand through the air. “Please, Killian, let us dispense with that foolishness. I knew the second you put that ring on my desk. How easily you forgot I know you. Know your style. Anyone else would’ve handed over the damn vase, but you got inside Vega’s head. Picked apart his weaknesses and exposed them bare. That job was a Killian Hunt masterpiece signed with a flourish.”
“I’m losing my patience with you, Richard. You drag me out in the open after blatantly admitting you gave me and my girlfriend up to die to save your own skin. Tell me what you want now, or I’ll drop you in the worst part of Rockchapel and we’ll see how far you get in that two-thousand-dollar suit and platinum watch.”
He gave me a flat look. “We have left the world of gentlemen thieves behind.”
“We did that when Adeline almost died jumping in front of a bullet meant for me.” Anger bled into the reply. Real. Corrosive. Consuming.
Rage that anyone would dare hurt her. Fury that after everything, when the time came, I couldn’t choose Kieran over her.
But she unapologetically chooses her hidden alliances over me.
I was a fucking fool. Worse than Sinjin ever was for dragging the woman into our lives in the first place. At least he didn’t know she couldn’t be trusted. I did, and I went back.
La Roche had the decency to look away. “I called you because I accept. You delivered your end of the bargain. The deal is made.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said you would deliver Kieran, and you have. He and the ledger are within reach. Get it for me, and this is all over.”
“Kieran is within reach? Do you know more about your anonymous caller than you mentioned?”
“He isn’t important,” he replied, a touch impatient. “Don’t you see? Enzo, Killian. Lorenzo Bianchi is Kieran.”
I abruptly drove out of traffic and parked in front of a bistro. “Impossible. Lorenzo is no more than five years older than me. A seventeen-year-old did not take over the city, and throw it on its head.”
“Of course not! It wasn’t Lorenzo who retired his fixing days, and turned to blackmail. It was Angelo Castillo.”
I made to speak, and closed my mouth.
“Angelo was Kieran the whole time. After he was dredged up like flotsam, the battle between Kings went down not because they never heard of a democratic election, but because their race was to find the ledger first. Once Enzo did, his last standing opponent backed down. Or do you not think it strange Thiago Pais hasn’t taken revenge?”
I was quiet. Very, very quiet.
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense, Killian.” His voice echoed strangely in my ear. “Kieran’s reaction after I demanded Enzo keep our original terms was a bit uneven, wouldn’t you say? He threatened to destroy me, and tried to kill you. Neither of which would’ve gotten Enzo what he wanted.
“Killing one Merchant wouldn’t prevent me from making a deal with the survivors, or from taking my products elsewhere. Putting me in prison doesn’t grant him my business. This retaliation isn’t the mark of the intelligent man who stayed ahead of everyone for decades. This is—”
“The act of a bold, young man suddenly flush with power. We had him,” I said to myself. “We had Kieran in our grip and we lost him.”
“If you Merchants can kill one Kieran, you can kill another.”
I raised my head.
“This is what we agreed. Get rid of Enzo, bring me the ledger, and you’ll be bigger than the Kings ever were.” He held out his hand. “Can I trust you? Gentleman to gentleman.”
I shook.
ADELINE WAS SITTING up in bed when I returned. Wary eyes trailed me placing her sandwich, chips, and juice on her lap.
“Something interesting happened today.” My tone was light. Conversational.
I dragged the chair beside her bed, waiting.
“What?” she asked.
“I spoke to La Roche. He told me you went to him for help with an indiscretion.”
No reaction.
“Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, the sum of two hundred thousand counterfeit bills was brought up.”
“And you believe he gave that money to me, and I gave it to Tara Duncan the day I blew her up in a park like a raving psychopath.” She made a harsh noise. “Tell me, Killian, why kill her if I had access to a counterfeit stash to keep her occupied. Seems an awfully big risk.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons.”
Her gaze hardened. “I didn’t do this. What will it take for you to believe me?”
I leaned in, peering deep into those swirling, enigmatic eyes. “Answer this next question honestly.”
“Kill—”
“Do you love me?”
She froze—mouth open as if the question surprised her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You know I do.”
Enzo. Kieran. And that twisted, sallow face burned in my mind.
“Then, play a game with me,” I said. “Equal or higher value.”
She stared at me for a while. “Okay. You first.”
“Fine,” I said. “When I was five, I was diagnosed with leukemia.”
That brought a reaction. Surprise flickered in her eyes, breaking the mask of innocence.
“My parents were desperate. They had the circus to run, kids fostered and theirs to raise, and no health insurance. I don’t need to say it was a bad situation. No story with this beginning has a good ending.”
“But... you beat it. You’re here.”
“I am,” I said. “My folks brought Merriman back to Cinco. We stayed here for two years while I got the best treatment money could buy.”
“How did they afford it?”
“Loan shark.”
She winced.
See? I said this wasn’t a happy story.
“All treatments covered in exchange for repayments at thirty percent interest, but believe it or not, the loan shark wasn’t the trouble. Maybe he had a soft spot for bald,
puking kids, because he agreed to a reasonable payment plan. Two years in, he died and the business passed on to his son—who decided his future was meant for better things. All the outstanding loans were sold.”
“Sold?”
I nodded. “Passed off to other loan sharks willing to pay the remaining balance. They’d take over collections from there, using whatever methods they chose.”
“Your parents’ loan ended up in the hands of someone unreasonable.”
“My parents’ loan ended up in the hands of Kieran.”
Adeline clapped her hand over her mouth. I can’t say why I sensed she wasn’t faking, but deep down I did. Her horror was genuine.
“Kieran didn’t want money. What he needed was a couple hauling big vans and tons of equipment across state lines legitimately. In the space of time it took to buy a loan, he had his couple.”
“What did he want moved?”
“Guns.”
She nodded, as if that was the only thing it could’ve been.
“They were forced to run Kieran’s guns for ten years. That’s how long it took for him to finally call the debt paid.” The words were bitter on my tongue. “Afterward, it was whatever product he needed moved on a whim, and the price was not turning them over to the police.”
“When did you find out? You were a child when all of this started.”
“My parents hid it from us. There were caravans we weren’t allowed to go inside. Locked crates we couldn’t go near. That the secret survived Sinjin’s many attempts to break in was a miracle in and of itself,” I said. “I didn’t know a thing, until Kieran called and told me.”
“Wha—” Adeline sat up and regretted it instantly. Grimacing, she eased back down. “He called you?”
“I still remember the day that mechanical voice poured in my ear. I was sitting in the quad, eating a quick lunch before class. I dropped my sandwich, staining my pants with mustard at the word ‘gunrunners.’
“He blackmailed me with my parents’ past, squeezing every ounce of guilt that they were forced into that life to save mine.”
“What did he want from you?” she cried. “Why come out of nowhere?”
“He doesn’t give explanations or a line to call for complaints.” I forced out the rest. “But in this, I believe the fault was mine. I was grifting to pay my way through school. Conning marks with pretty creations I whipped up in my downtown apartment. I must’ve conned the wrong person. Someone tied to Kieran.
“He tracked me down, found out who I was, and—as luck would have it—there was another pair of Hunts in his little black book. It’s the only explanation for why his demands were that I leave the forgery business and repay him ten grand a month.”
“A month? Every month?” she repeated. “How long have you been paying him?”
“Years. After two months, I dropped out of med school. Shortly after, Sinjin and I formed a team, that eventually became a group, that grew into a gang called the Merchants. I had to make money someway.”
“I’m so sorry, Killian.”
The sympathy brushed off me.
“After all of that, you don’t know who he is?”
“No contact is required to make a monthly bank transfer. Though, I once thought I could force one by... skipping payments.” The sheets fisted in my grip.
I made up my mind to do this. Get it out.
“I tried once to force him into contacting me. Figured if I missed a few, he’d have no choice, and this time, I’d know what to do. I’d track him down.”
“Did he call?” she asked when my silence stretched past comfortable.
“No, Adeline. What Kieran did was send a bunch of guys to beat the shit out of me on a basketball court while my girlfriend watched, screaming for them to stop. They didn’t hurt her, but they tied us both and locked us in the trunk of my car.”
The night came back in sharp focus. A curse of my above-average memory. Their blows breaking bones, shattering cartilage, spurting blood. Ophelia’s screams. My shoes scraping the ground as I was dragged to the car. Her desperate, panicked breaths.
“Kieran couldn’t have known Ophelia had asthma. Or the stress of my beating and the trunk would trigger an attack she couldn’t alleviate.
“She died right next to me. Close enough to touch, but unable to help. I haven’t missed a payment since.”
“Killian,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more than... say I’m sorry. I see now why you kept me at arm’s length.”
“I want you to know, I didn’t get you involved in this thinking something like the other night could happen. Ophelia was a tragic accident. The Kieran I thought I was dealing with, wouldn’t have involved you.”
“Why did you get me involved? I wonder now how much I helped you.”
“You were there for La Roche, not me. You were my means.”
Her brows shot up. “Means?”
“An old painting by a forger years out of the game was never going to get me in with him. He needed to know he could take something I care about if I ever betrayed him. I thought I was smart having the woman I didn’t give a shit for pose as my weakness. My bases were covered since I had no intention of betraying him.”
“What the hell does that mean? Take something you care about? I’m not a fucking piece of canvas and paint, Cash.”
There’s that fire. There was just no dousing it.
“La Roche is a different class of criminal,” I said. “Taking you from me would be old-fashioned seduction and piles of money to dump me, and sprinkle my secrets in his ear. If you were just another grifter like us—the role you played to perfection—you would have taken him up on it.
“Again, I did not predict in any scenario that this would happen.”
“Would it have mattered if you did?” she returned.
“Yes.” The truth burned my tongue. “I had him, Adeline. I had to make a choice, chase down Kieran’s man, or save you. And in the end, it wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t leave you there.”
My hand inched across the sheets, reaching for hers as she reached for mine. Our fingers laced.
“I love you,” I stated. “I don’t trust you. I don’t believe a single fucking syllable that comes out of your mouth. But I still love you.”
Tears spilled, soaking her cheeks. “Killian...”
“Your turn, Christine.”
She looked at me—lips trembling. Hand shaking. And for the first time, I knew exactly what was going on in her mind. I watched the battle, felt the strain, wrenched in the struggle, and witnessed the final result.
“Killian, I wish there was more for me to give you,” she whispered. A tear caught and painted her lips. “You’ll never know how much. But I’ve told you everything.”
I broke free of her grip, pulling away from a hand trying to hold on to me.
“My mother. My abuse. That is my truth. They’re the events that shaped the woman you can’t trust. There’s nothing else I could tell you that could be of higher value.”
“Tara Duncan,” was all I could manage.
“Please, Killian.”
And again, I knew what she was saying.
Please, Killian. Don’t make me lie to you anymore.
“So,” I began.
The walls slid into place.
“This is your answer.”
“This... was always my answer.”
The line rubbed away. The mask settled where it belonged.
“You understand that this is the end of us.”
More tears filled her eyes. “I do.”
The disease was purged from my mind.
“Then, you should know what happens next.” Cash spoke, not Killian. “Today is the last day I come here. Starting tomorrow, one of my men, Lucky, will be looking after you until you’re on your feet. The apartment will remain locked till we have the funds to move. I suspect your true skills are formidable and you’ll put them toward finding us, but I intend to bury our names and location
so deep, even I’ll need a reminder of who we are.”
She choked on a sob.
“Goodbye, Adeline.”
“K-Killian, please.” She stopped me at the door. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I shut it behind, leaving those feelings inside the room with her. Cold, hard Cash—the man who made real the nickname—walked out.
ADELINE
I cried all day and into the night, then I fell asleep to strange, twisted dreams.
I dreamt every night I slept in my new home. Odd for someone who rarely dreamed at all. I assumed it had to do with the painkillers Killian had me on.
Killian.
My eyes filled.
I had no choice but to lie to him. The truth wouldn’t have saved us.
I didn’t try to run from my captors because I planned to learn everything about your gang structure, slit your throats, and run it myself. I changed my mind after falling for you, and accepting I could achieve the same result by letting you find the ledger for me.
Oh— And about the ledger. It’s mine. Cinco City is mine. And love you as much as I do, I don’t plan to share my crown.
What was Killian going to say to that?
“Thanks for being honest, baby. Let’s go home now.”
Whatever picture he holds of me, it’s not of a woman who plans to betray him. She still has his love if not his trust. The woman I truly am.
She would have neither.
I heard a noise in the apartment.
Pushing myself up, I listened close to the door swinging shut. Then a thud of something hitting the counter.
My heart thumped in my ear.
“Cash?” I called.
“How long do I heat this shit up for?”
That was not Cash.
The door flew open. A man in a plaid shirt and light jeans stood in my entrance. Long brown hair fell to his shoulders, framing a young, pleasant face. Brown eyes and full lips.
“Hey, mama,” he greeted.
“I’ve got instructions to give you this soup.” He shook the container at me. “How long in the microwave?”
Red-rimmed, swimming eyes beheld him. “Who are you?”
“Jaden,” he said. “Everyone calls me Lucky. How long?”
