A Worthy Opponent: Wicked Villains #3

by Katee Robert

  Understanding hits me. The shit we intended to pick up this week. All of Tink’s shit, aside from the stuff she has stashed at our place. I press my hand to the small of her back, the only support I’m sure she’ll allow. “How bad?”

  “They destroyed everything.” Fury and sorrow comes off Meg in waves. Her hands clench and unclench, and she holds herself just as still as Tink does; as if she wants to offer comfort but knows it won’t be accepted. “I’m so sorry. We’re working on finding the responsible party, but—”

  “There’s no need.” Tink takes a shuddering breath. She’s shutting down, tucking herself behind her massive walls, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but a curious blankness I still sometimes see in my nightmares. She hasn’t worn this expression since she was still trapped under Peter’s thumb. “It was Peter.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I do know that, Meg.” A thread of anger in her voice, but she shuts it down immediately. “He’ll come at me in any way he’s able to. Since I haven’t been available as a target, he went after something that matters to me.”

  I stroke my hand up her back. I can’t help it. She’s shuddering the tiniest bit, the only indication of how deep this cut goes. “We’ll replace it.”

  “Don’t be absurd. That’s five years’ worth of investment. Not to mention the commissions I’m going to lose because of the works in progress lost.” She shakes her head. “No, this is a blow I won’t recover from.”

  Meg glances at me. “It happened on Underworld property. We failed to protect it, so we will replace it.”

  “Some of those fabrics were custom dyed. It’s impossible.”

  “Tink.” I put enough snap in my voice that she finally looks at me. The emptiness in her eyes scares me more than anything to date. It’s exactly how she looked at me when I desperately offered her an escape. I keep my tone abrasive. “Stop being such a fucking martyr and accept help that’s being offered. This is important to you. We want to help, so let us help.”

  “It’s my problem.”

  Meg makes a sound perilously close to a snarl, but I’m already talking. “That’s bullshit and you know it. We’re married, remember? What’s yours is mine, baby, and that means he stole from me, too. That can’t stand, so sit down, shut up, and make a list of what you need to fix it.”

  Anger flickers across her face, shattering the numbness into a thousand pieces. “Fuck off.”

  “Get off your ass and make me.”

  “Children,” Meg murmured.

  I hold up a hand without looking at her, keeping my focus on Tink. “Don’t test me, Tink. I’ll have you on your knees and choking on my cock before you can finish the next sentence.”

  She presses a single finger to the center of my chest. “Try it and see what happens.” She bares her teeth at me. “I’m a biter when I’m riled.”

  I’m aware of Meg watching us closely, ready to step in. I could tell her that her interference is unnecessary, but I won’t waste my breath. In the end, I don’t give a shit about Meg’s comfort. I only care about Tink’s.

  I can bring her back from the edge. We’ve already started, though I’m certain she’ll slide right back into that numbness the second her mind wanders. Dominating her now will help, but it’s a Band-Aid, and it also runs the risk of her checking out completely. No, inciting her to fight me is just as likely to harm as it is to make anything better.

  “Give us a minute, Meg.” I still don’t look over.

  Meg hesitates but finally takes a step back. “Mind the cameras.” With the reminder that someone will be watching should things get out of hand, she turns and leaves the room.

  I barely wait for the door to swing shut to pull Tink into a hug.

  Tink goes rigid. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “It’s called comfort.” I don’t let go. She’s not fighting me; she’s fighting herself. I lean down a little and speak directly in her ear. “No one’s here but us. You don’t have to be strong right now. Let it out.”

  “Fuck … you.” The last word comes out as a sob. Then her arms are around my waist, and she buries her face against my chest.

  I hold her as she shakes. She was right before. There’s no fixing this completely, even if everything is replaced. What Peter did is a violation as surely as if he reached across the distance and struck her. He’d made her feel unsafe.

  She fists the fabric of my shirt at my back. “I hate him.”

  “I know, beautiful girl.” I hug her tighter. I might not always say the right thing, but I sure as shit know how to comfort with my body, even when fucking isn’t on the table. Sex isn’t what she needs right now. She needs someone to lean on, just a little bit, until she gets her feet under her again.

  Heaven help Peter once that happens.

  I press a kiss to her temple. “We’re moving up the timetable.”

  “I didn’t know there was a timetable,” she says against my chest.

  “Give me a little credit.”

  She hesitates and gives a tiny, pathetic chuckle. “A tiny smidge of credit.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.” I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I keep talking. “You can stay here while I handle this.”

  “What?”

  I roll right over her protest. “You’re safe in my home, but you’re safer here.”

  “Did you miss the part where Peter got to my things here?” She clings tighter to me, still twisting the fabric of my shirt. “You asshole, you can’t honestly think I’m safer here than I am with you.”

  “We both know that Hades and Allecto are taking this breach personally and will do everything in their considerable power to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.” Peter wouldn’t risk coming here again. That I’m sure of.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I force myself to take her shoulders and nudge her back a step so she can meet my eyes. “No, Tink. I don’t think you’re safer anywhere more than you are with me. Because I know for a fact that I’ll do whatever it takes, no matter the cost, to keep you that way.” I should have stopped ten minutes ago, should have had the control to keep my mouth shut when she’s already reeling from me dropping “I love you” this morning. Too fucking much, too fucking soon. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to this woman.

  She licks her lips. “You really meant it this morning, didn’t you?”

  No need to ask for clarification. She’s thinking about the same thing I am. “Yes.”

  “Wow.” She huffs out a sad little laugh. “We are so fucked up.”

  I can’t exactly argue the point, but … “What makes you say that?”

  “You insist on seeing parts of me I’m not willing to show anyone, on seeing me as a whole. And no matter how often or hard I push you away, you bounce back like a goddamn frisbee.”

  “Pretty sure frisbees don’t bounce.”

  “I’m not finished.” She reaches up and traces her thumb along my bottom lip, pausing at my piercing before continuing. “I should want a normal person. Maybe not the white picket fence dream, but stability. Someone who isn’t a criminal.”

  “Probably.” I can’t argue this either. This woman deserves the world. I know I’m not good enough for her. I made my peace with that a long time ago. “But that normal person isn’t going to understand you the way I do.”

  “That’s the crux, isn’t it?” Her smile turns bittersweet. “When the wolf comes howling for blood at my door, you’re the one who will meet him there with an ax. Only a monster can kill a monster.”

  It stings that she recognizes me as a monster, even if it’s the truth. “Yes.”

  I won’t say I wish there was another way. It’s worthless to wish on stars. The only thing that matters is action, and I can’t bring down Peter through legitimate means. I’ve tried. Fuck, I tried. He had too many important people on his payroll, people he ensured looked the other way when it came to both his illegal activities and his a
busive treatment of the people under his control. The only thing those assholes respect is power and money, so I ensured I had both when I went to take over paying them to look the other way. It makes me no better than he is, but it’s a burden I’ll have to live with.

  I am a monster.

  Tink nods. “There’s no way out but through.”

  The same conclusion I came to years ago. “Yes.” I have to ask, though. I may want her chained to me in every way I can, but I don’t want Tink broken. That was never the plan. “If you need to go, I’ll find another way.”

  She looks at me, really looks at me. “So you’re going to, what, put me on a train and send me out of Carver City? Maybe give me a pat on the ass for the good fucking in the meantime?” She snorts. “Please. We both know that’s not an option.”

  “Do we?” Why do I keep asking her this shit? I should take her words at face value, but that’s the fucking problem. I tied her to me, but I want her to want to be there. “I have enough money to get you a fresh start.”

  She gives a sad little smile. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Jameson? There is no fresh start for me. Wherever I go, whoever I interact with, I’m still me. I’m still hauling around all the scars from my past.” She presses her fingers to my lips when I start to argue. “I’m staying. Stop wasting time trying to convince me to go and focus all that impressive will of yours on fulfilling your promise to provide me Peter’s head on a platter. The sooner the better.”

  She’s still raw, still shaking, but she doesn’t look lost any more. I smile against her fingers. “As my lady commands.”

  Chapter 21

  Tink

  After ten minutes of arguing, Meg finally allows me to see what Peter did to my things. They were stored in one of the rooms off the garage that the club uses for large shipments before they’re organized and sent up to their appropriate destinations.

  My belongings are entirely ruined.

  I stand in the doorway, conscious of Hook’s comforting warmth at my back, and take it in. Peter—or, more likely, his flunkies—went through the space with a vengeance. My backup sewing machine is in a thousand smashed pieces. My chest gets tight just looking at it. It was the first purchase I made for myself after I saved up from working at the Underworld. The first thing in this world that was truly mine that no one could take away.

  Except Peter has done exactly that.

  I drag my gaze away, taking in the bolts of fabric. They didn’t bother ripping or cutting them. They simply dumped some kind of chemical all over everything. It looks like Drano; something thick and blue and impossible to clean.

  My actual clothes … They set them on fire.

  Hook takes my shoulder. “Enough.”

  I want to fight him out of the sheer perversity of doing it, but he’s right. Standing here a second longer will only be flogging myself with what I’ve lost. I can’t focus too closely on that. Not if I want to keep moving. “Let’s go home.”

  “Tink.” A new voice behind us. I knew he was coming at some point. No way could something like this go down in Hades’s place without him making an appearance.

  I take a slow breath and turn to face him. He’s as perfectly put together as ever in his black on black suit. Hercules stands at his shoulder, and a distant part of me is proud to see that the guy is finally taking my fashion advice and dressing in a way that shows off his impressive physique instead of baggy T-shirts and jeans. He’s wearing a suit I designed for him, slate gray over a lighter gray button-up shirt. Hercules opens his mouth, but Hades speaks first. “We will make amends.”

  Not this again. “It’s fine.”

  “Tink.” He sinks enough warning into my name that I have to fight back a shudder. Hades raises his brows. “You know how this works. Pick a fight with your husband if you need to assuage your bruised pride. It’s not my concern. This insult done on my property is.”

  His rebuke stings exactly as much as he meant it to. Worse, he’s right. Hook’s offer to replace everything is surprisingly sweet, no matter the motivation behind it, but I know exactly how much money will be required to balance the scales. Hook has it. No question there. But if I’m really staying, that means looking out for the good of the territory the same way he does. That money can be used in a variety of different ways to benefit the people we protect.

  Which means letting Hades foot the bill.

  “Fine. I’ll send you an itemized list.”

  “Much obliged.” He studies my face before his gaze flicks to where Hook’s hand rests on my shoulder. It’s an innocent enough touch, though it’s the only thing keeping me anchored in the here and now. Hook’s presence is a flame against the night that continues to seek hold inside me. I don’t want to check out, but the self-defense mechanism isn’t something I can fully control. It was the only thing that got me through being trapped with Peter, being able to disassociate enough that he didn’t break the last piece of me I held close.

  Being in proximity to physical evidence of how he plans to punish me … I shudder.

  Hook squeezes my shoulder. The barest press of his fingers against my skin, but it gives me the strength to meet Hades’s gaze. “If that’s everything?”

  He nods. “Allecto will provide an escort to the border of the Underworld’s territory.” He turns and heads back toward the elevator.

  Hercules steps forward and pulls me into a hug. “Good luck.” He releases me immediately as if he’s sure I’m going to bite.

  Two hugs in one day, three if I’m going to count the one in Hook’s bathroom earlier. What the hell is this world coming to?

  Meg gives me a brief smile. “Take care of your business, Tink. I expect to hear about it very soon over drinks.” Then she links her arm through Hercules’s and follows Hades through the parking garage to the elevator.

  I barely wait for it to close before I turn to Hook. “Let’s go.” I have to keep moving or I’m going to fall apart. I may be farther from that breaking point than I was thirty minutes ago, but it’s still close enough to taste on the back of my tongue.

  For once, Hook doesn’t have a snarky comment to offer. He simply falls into step next to me. We head to the waiting car and slip into the backseat. Colin’s driving, and he takes one look at our faces and apparently decides that conversation can wait.

  Hook leans forward between the seats. “They’ll provide escort.”

  A calculated risk—an escort could be translated into us being too weak to protect ourselves—but as long as we’re on Underworld territory, we don’t have the ability to refuse Hades. Especially when it’s a reasonable request.

  Still.

  The thirty minutes it takes to navigate the traffic back to Hook’s building are some of the tensest in recent memory. It’s everything I can do to keep my eyes forward and not rubberneck around, looking for an attack. I know it’s coming. Peter destroying the majority of my worldly possessions is as much a declaration of war as sending a signed letter. Not knowing when he’ll strike? It’s enough to drive a person mad.

  I jump as Hook laces his fingers through mine. He’s not looking at me, his dark gaze intent on the street outside his building. We make it into the parking garage without issue, but he still doesn’t relax. Why should he? Peter infiltrated Hades’s parking garage just hours ago.

  Hook waits for Colin to shut off the engine. “Sweep the place starting from the ground up. I don’t want anyone in the building who isn’t meant to be here. No girlfriends, no boyfriends, no fuck buddies, no delivery people. No one.”

  “Will do.”

  He squeezes my hand, and I obey the silent command to follow him out of the car. It’s not until the elevator doors slide silently shut that I realize he kept his body between me and the entrance to the street the entire time. Protecting me. I look at our linked hands and tell myself to release him, but my body isn’t obeying my mind.

  Or maybe I just flat out don’t want to.

  “This is going to get ugly.”

&nbs
p; He finally looks at me. “It was always going to get ugly. The only way to eradicate an infection is to lance the wound and dig it out so it can heal cleanly. Peter is a wound in this territory, and I have to bear the burden of letting him live five years ago.”

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that. He did let Peter live and, yes, that’s put a number of people in danger now. But what’s the other option? “You’re not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “I wasn’t then.” His smile is empty and cold. “People change.”

  The doors open before I can come up with a response to that. We barely make it a single step out before Nigel waylays us. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “Now’s not a good time.” Hook shakes his head, already turning away. “Colin is organizing a sweep. I want everyone who isn’t ours out.”

  But Nigel doesn’t budge. His expression is more serious than usual. “It’s Gaeton.” The barest of hesitations. “The Man in Black is dead.”

  “What?” The word escapes before I can wrestle control of my mouth. The Man in Black rules—ruled—the largest slice of Carver City. He’s the only one strong enough to manage that much territory without incident, and he’s sure as hell the only one capable of holding both Gaeton and Beast’s leashes. He’s also Isabelle’s father.

  Hook touches the small of my back. “Send him up in five minutes.”

  I manage to keep my mouth shut until we’re in his room, and then I spin on him. “This is a mess. He’s a cornerstone of Carver City. Knock out that leg and the entire thing topples. If someone gets it in their head to test his untried eldest daughter—and they will—it could be a domino effect to send us all to war.” The only reason the power structure works in this city is because it’s perfectly balanced. The small internal squabbles and changing of leaders doesn’t make a difference in the overall city because it doesn’t affect the overall territory boundaries, so everyone has approximately the same amount of power. There hasn’t been a territory grab or a war in … I don’t even know. Decades, at least. Since the Man in Black fought and killed the leader of the territory to his eastern border, and brokered with Hades to create the neutral territory in the city center. If someone decides to get greedy now, none of us are safe.