Giving him a few seconds to regroup, I grip his hair and jerk him to face me.
“Still listening?”
“Yesss,” he hisses, his eyes filling with a rare fear.
“But you did the same thing the night we met. You showed me your weakness because you didn’t see me as a threat, then or in the future, and you gave me everything I needed within a few words. And it was clear to me then—we weren’t playing the same game.”
He furrows his brows.
“Illusion is a powerful thing, Antoine. It can hide a lot. But you never really checked to see what was in my hand, not once, because if you had, you’d have spared yourself this humiliation.”
I shake my head and sigh. “I guess I should give you some credit for reminding me of who I am, of my purpose, but my weakness is not something you should have ever tried to fuck with. You were always an afterthought for me and never part of the picture. If anything, you were my first mark, not a worthy fucking mentor. You never once had my respect, my ear, or my full attention. You want to fucking be me, but I’ve learned true leaders have to humble themselves to evolve. They have to recognize their weaknesses and use them to strengthen themselves.” I avert my eyes to Sean as the aftertaste of my medicine coats my tongue. “And they have to know when to ask for help.”
Gaze lingering on Sean, I come to terms with that truth. Maybe at one time we were all phoenixes, baptized by our individual fires before rising from the ashes of our mistakes. But after the transformation, we declared ourselves a different sort of bird and managed to find our way back to each other. The truth of that is more comforting than anything I’ve ever felt. I was never alone, not once, and it’s so evident now. When one of us falters, when our wings fail us and we lose direction, there’s always another to coast us in.
Although I’ve spent years adrift, attempting to coast alone to save those around me from the destruction of my hidden path, they’ve refused to let me fly solo.
The synergy is back, and it’s powerful. I can feel it between us now as we crest on the same breeze, wings wide open, scars from our separation the same depth, shape, and color. Sean dips his chin, confirming my line of thought as we feel the absence of one, never to be forgotten. And it’s then I let the rage totally consume me.
“This is the illusion, Antoine. Ready? Watch closely.” I cup the king in my palm, making sure he sees it before effortlessly shifting the pieces with a sleight of hand. “But this is who I am.” I pinch the pawn between my fingers and lift it an inch from his gaping nose. “It’s who I’ve always been, and I accepted that early on.”
Cupping the back of his head, I press the chess piece against his gaping nose as he shrieks in pain, his body shaking violently in his chair as I lean in and whisper every word.
“But as I told you in the beginning, I never make the same mistake, twice. And because of that, you’ll die a coward because you showed me your weakness in our first meeting—ego.”
I glance at Sean, handing him the king. “Shall we feed his greed?”
Sean nods, taking the king from my hand as Antoine jerks violently in his hold while he shoves the chess piece in, breaking some of his teeth while forcing it to the back of his throat. Antoine begins to choke, his face beet red as he gags.
Sean allows him some air as he tries his best to spit the piece out, blood pouring from his mouth between gasps.
“So, let’s move down the checklist, shall we, Sean?”
“Let’s,” he says, as he holds a struggling Antoine in his iron grip.
“We stole his money?”
“Yep.”
“Palo took his wife?”
A nod.
“We’ve trashed his reputation?”
“He’s a fucking laughing-stock, but in truth, he did that himself.”
“We stole his kingdom and gave a set of keys to the lieutenant fucking his wife, and positioned him to our advantage?”
Sean’s menacing smile appears, and he nods. “Palo is going to have a damn good year.”
“Did I leave anything out?”
“His mistress just fled France.” He shrugs. “Something must have spooked her.”
Antoine snaps his gaze between the two of us, his features twisted in utter defeat as I step toward him and press the barrel of my Glock to the center of his forehead. “And I didn’t have to lift a finger because I’m just a pawn, who managed to find a queen and make her fall in love with me. But what good is a pawn, who can check, without a mate?”
I press the gun into his skull, tilting his head up, forcing his eyes to mine and pull the fucking trigger.
“No, no, no. Come on, man, no!” Eddie all but shrieks as we enter his bar. I can’t help the laughter that bursts out of me as Tobias scowls at him. The last time we were here, Tobias all but destroyed this place due to our stand-off. From the looks of it, Eddie put the consolation money I left him to use. Glancing around I give him a low whistle. “Looks great in here. New lighting.”
Eddie towels off a glass. “Wonder how long I’ll keep it.”
A voice sounds up from behind us. “Chill, Eddie, we might only swing from the chandeliers once tonight.” I turn to see Jeremy at the door, a grin splitting his face as I rush him and he catches me mid-flight.
“Damn, girl, you only get more beautiful,” he whispers as he lifts me from my feet in a bear hug before gripping my arms. “How you been?”
I gesture over my shoulder and raise my brows.
“Yeah, I get it. He’s a jagged little pill, isn’t he?”
“Watch it,” Tobias snaps, and we both look over at him. He’s completely relaxed, a gin in hand, dressed from head-to-toe in a newly-cut Armani. For a second, I get lost in my attraction, and Jeremy slings an arm across my shoulders.
“Up for a game of pool?”
“I’m going to wipe the floor with your ass,” I promise.
“Either that or she’ll tap your nuts with her stick. It’s a dirty trick.” The sound of Russell’s voice has me turning out of Jeremy’s grip, a second before Russell sweeps me into a hug.
“You ass, I only did that once.”
“Twice, my nuts were counting.”
“Not that you need them. You’ll never settle down,” I say as he glances over at Tobias.
“Well, if he’s not willing to secure you long-ter—”
“Finish that sentence,” Tobias says evenly. “Please, finish that sentence.”
Russell rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to wrinkle that suit, Hugo.”
Tobias sets his gin on the bar and discards his jacket, rolling up his sleeves, giving me a shot of arm porn. Memories surface of my time here, of days gone by as the burn starts in my throat and Eddie brings out a pitcher of beer as Jeremy racks the pool balls. Stick in hand, Tobias glances over at me and lifts his chin in question as I nod in reply while my emotions threaten to take over just as “Wish You Were Here” begins to chime from the jukebox.
It’s not perfect and not altogether the reunion I hoped for. Some of us aren’t here. But this isn’t then. It’s in my love’s eyes I see the same hint of sadness, and we hold our gaze until we’re both strong enough to break it. For the next hour, I watch the three of them drink and bullshit, chiming in here and there. For the most part, my enjoyment comes from watching the camaraderie from nearly a lifetime of knowing each other, growing up together, a foundation built long ago before me. And while some things change, love remains the same. So we drink to that. We celebrate now, the new normal even as we tiptoe around the absence of a few irreplaceable Ravens—those that have passed and those that moved onto a different present as we all will when our time comes. And our time is coming sooner than later.
But we have tonight, and it’s enough.
Buzzed from a few hours of beers with the boys, I light my red sparkler as the band marches by playing Christmas carols and catch Tobias scanning the crowd for the umpteenth time from where I stand at the edge of the street. When the sparks run out, I walk o
ver to where he sits.
“If this makes you nervous, we can go.”
“We’re covered,” he assures me, his posture rigid as he sits back, bundled in a snowman blanket in a lawn chair we picked up on the ride over.
“Is that why you look constipated?”
“Yeah,” he says absently, and I burst into laughter and join him in the chair, kissing him in hopes of erasing the confusion from his expression. Instead, he tilts his head, returning my kiss, so he’s got one eye on the crowd. Laughing into his mouth, he pulls away and gives a sheepish upturn of his lips.
“We can’t live like this, Tobias.”
“Just give me some time to adjust,” he assures.
“How long?”
“Around seventy years,” he says matter-of-fact, and I shake my head and smile. He taps the plastic arm of the chair and I lift his fingers and kiss them in an attempt to quiet some of his anxiety.
“We’ve got eyes everywhere, so what is it that’s bothering you so much?”
“Cecelia, I do want to marry you.”
I turn in his lap and look him over to see his expression is grave.
“Color me confused, Frenchman, but you don’t seem too excited about it.”
“That ends now. I’m not going to push important shit to the back burner anymore, and I’ve kept this confession to myself long enough. This is a conversation we need to have.”
“It can all wait, Tobias. I’m not…I mean…put it this way, my biological clock is completely silent for the moment.”
“I’m kind of hoping you’ll wait on a different clock.” He swallows. “Before we do anything permanent.”
I frown. “What?”
“I’m…” he shakes his head, emotion flitting over his features. “I would marry you right now, Cecelia. Right fucking now, I would give you a ring, a wedding, big or small, pledge my love, but I can’t give you those promises because I might not be able to see them through, to keep them.”
“If we’re talking about fidelity, I may just fucking shoot you.”
“I may be sick.”
My body jars as volts of shock slice through my veins. I can barely manage to get the words out. “What do you mean sick?”
“You know. You’ve always known.”
Two seconds is all it takes as he conveys to me the truth in his eyes.
“For everything I do, there’s a reason behind it.”
His reasoning for a lot of his actions all those months ago is the shame shadowing his features—his true weakness, the fear that plagues him the most.
My love.
My fucking love.
How blind I’ve been. How wrong I was in assuming I knew the totality of his fears, especially that day in his office when he let me walk out of his life. I always believed it was the danger that kept him pushing me away, nothing but the danger he could be to me. Over the years, I have been forced to assume a lot of his reasonings because of his evasion, and that’s on him—but I’m done playing the blame game of where we both went wrong.
From this moment on, I’m done with assumptions because with this man, nothing has ever been what it seems. And in doing that, I can see the reasons for some of his past actions.
“You’re afraid of schizophrenia? You’re afraid you’ll get sick like your father?” My eyes pour over.
“The woman I’ve been speaking to, Sonia,” he pushes out as if he’s terrified of the words themselves, “was my father’s psychotherapist at the mental institution. While he was being treated there, she started conversations with me. She could tell I was struggling with the fear, with my own issues. She’s been helping me find my focus when my mind sometimes betrays me. There’s no genetic testing for it…but some of my behavior is indicative that there’s a possibility I could get sick.”
“It’s anxiety and OCD. There’s a huge difference. He was twenty-eight when he was diagnosed, Tobias. You’ve lived almost ten years past that, already.”
“It could still happen.” He swallows. “I’ve got seven years until the ‘what if’ clock ticks out, and even after there’s a chance. There’s a real possibility it could happen, Cecelia. And I do lose myself sometimes. Especially in the paranoia.”
“It’s to be expected with the line of work you’re in.”
“That’s what she says.” His eyes are cast down, and it devastates me—he’s so deeply ashamed. “But she’s more realistic than you are. There’s a chance, Cecelia. I need you to acknowledge it.”
“Okay,” I close my eyes and hate the fact that I called him a coward just months before because the battle he faces daily makes him more heroic to me than anything ever could.
He shifts me on his lap, his knuckles running along my jaw.
“You know my…habits. You saw me get lost in my head in Virginia. I’ve been in several questionable states like that…” His eyes shine with fear as he looks to me, completely lost. “I have no control over if this happens to me. I’m not going to put you in the position my mother was put in, a young child to raise while her husband went fucking mad.”
“Is this the reason you refused me when I showed up?”
“One of them. You’re young, Cecelia. I’ve already robbed you blind. How much more could I take? I’m not that greedy.” With that statement, my heart shatters into a million pieces.
“You take everything, Tobias, because I’m no good for anyone else. I won’t ever be. It’s only you. And I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, I won’t. I’ll never leave your goddamn side. Never for that reason. Not ever. So don’t ask me.” He remains silent, his eyes dropping as I again force him to face me.
“Damnit, Frenchman, you don’t get to hide from me anymore. Do you understand? Tell me you believe me, Tobias. I will never purposefully leave you for that. What hurts you, hurts me. What scares you, scares me,” I murmur to him as he runs his nose along my jaw. “If we fail,” I assure him, “we’ll fail together. You’ll never be alone again. Not ever.”
Red-rimmed eyes lift to mine. “If there ever comes a time where I can’t…”
“Stop. We aren’t going to do that.”
“This is where you let me be realistic.”
I concede due to the sheer determination in his eyes. “We do it together unless I become incapable, which brings me to my next point. You decide.”
“Decide what?”
“When to go back in, if we go at all.”
“And what about what you want? What about my king?”
He nuzzles me. “Still in the making. For now, the queen is the one in control of the board.”
Opening the hotel door, I pause when I hear the familiar melody of “K” by Cigarettes After Sex. My woman is in a mood. Grinning, I shut the door and stalk into the living room of the suite in search of her. A freshly made drink waits on the antique bar cart, and I retrieve it taking a healthy sip.
“Trésor?”
As expected, I get no reply. Walking into the bedroom, I see it’s also empty aside from the garment bag laying on the bed with a note attached.
Tailored for a king.
Merry Christmas.
X
Setting my drink down on the dresser, I walk over to it and unzip it, revealing a classic Armani with a skinny tie and freshly starched white pocket square.
“Trésor,” I sigh, running my fingers over the material in appreciation, I can’t help my grin.
It’s fucking perfect.
This woman knows me, my story, my beginning and my middle, my flaws, the history of my scars—my strengths and weaknesses. She sees so clearly past my armor and is the only one capable of going further, penetrating flesh and blood to get to the beating heart beneath. I gave that power to her, to hold it in her hand and do what she will with it. And even with it—knowing what she’s capable of doing to me—she continues to love, accepting the burden fully while remaining loyal and faithful.
The liberation that comes with her acceptance is one I unknowingly searched for and
found in her. In these precious seconds, I bask in the understanding that I have someone to share myself with, a partner, a lover, confidante, and friend. Her love is all the validity I’ll ever need.
Just beneath the collar lays a small leather box. I pick it up and open it to see two custom-crafted cufflinks, painstakingly molded in great detail. A raven, wings fully stretched. Any doubts I had about her message vanish as I begin to shed my clothes.
Cecelia
Anticipation thrums through me as I run my keycard across the screen and open the door. The melody still plays as it did when I left it hours before. I abused my powers today—as Tobias has so many times in the past—to execute my personal plans. Over the past few hours, I used my birds to track his movements, knowing when he would arrive.
Sure in my stride, I walk into the living room to find it empty, but it’s the lingering scent of spice that has me changing direction—the hairs on my arms spiking to life as heat gathers at my core. Entering the bedroom, I come up empty but see the patio door open. It’s when I step in, I spot him on the far side of the balcony, and it’s enough to make me pause. The sight of him with his back turned, one hand resting on the balcony, the other cradling his drink, robs me of breath—knocking me into an immediate state of arousal. His hair is slicked back just enough, longer now with the ends curling slightly around his ears. It’s when he turns to face me fully that I’m rewarded in whole.
Jesus Christ.
Timeless, intimidating, formidable, and a brilliant menace. The most incredible picture of unrest. The flames waltzing in his eyes slam into me. He’s the most alluring of men and the most lethal. The heat radiating between us is already too much. The fact that he is more than capable of burning when he touches has me gravitating toward him, all too ready to thrust myself into his inferno. I’ve spent an entire day being waxed, polished, dyed, and cut, specifically for the reward of the look in his eyes. With a subtle lift of his chin, he orders me forward, and I obey, taking the strides toward him and discarding my jacket along the way without breaking my gait. His eyes drift up my frame pausing at the spiked leather boots and trailing up the sheath dress that hugs my every curve. Simmering in the possibilities, I’m granted the payoff for my efforts when he thrusts his hand through my hair, gripping it just enough so I feel the sting.
The Finish Line Page 40
