They’ve created an unbreakable partnership amongst the threats and betrayal surrounding us. They beat the odds and have earned my admiration, along with the slightest case of jealousy.
“To Hunter and Sarah, may your upcoming marriage be filled with peace—” which is non-existent. “Love—” that will make you vulnerable. “And friends and family—” who can easily stab you in the back.
“To Hunter and Sarah,” the guests echo, raising their glasses to drink away my poor excuse for a toast.
Finding the perfect sentiment to describe this moment is something I gave up on nights ago. We don’t do perfection. We do manipulation and lies. Deceit and danger.
There are no fairytales here. Only wealth derived from the death of many and the demise of more.
A presence approaches behind me, making me stiffen.
A man.
No, men.
There’s more than one, their proximity raising the hair on the back of my neck. But I show no fear. I can’t. Not in a room filled with security and people I’m supposed to cherish.
I have to pretend I’m safe. Although we all know safety is another illusion.
“You’re off your game, sis.” Cole gives a friendly nudge to my elbow, washing away my discomfort with his gruff voice. “I thought you would’ve bored us for hours with a gushing speech about love and commitment.”
I raise a brow in offense and wave a hand for him to continue forward. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
He smirks, and for a moment I glimpse the devil. The determination and unwavering confidence in his gaze is unfathomable. But there’s sterility, too.
He’s not entirely present. He hasn’t been for a while.
“I will.” He strides ahead, wordlessly demanding everyone’s attention.
Conversation dies a quick death under his muted authority. The crowd becomes enraptured, acting as if this man is their savior instead of the one threatening them to remain loyal.
“Thank you all for being here tonight.” He indicates the not-so-happy couple with a tilt of his chin. Hunter glowers, his irritation unrestrained, while Sarah glares, her eyes narrowed to spiteful slits. “Although neither of them were enthusiastic about having an engagement party—”
“Slight understatement,” the man at my back murmurs near my ear.
A shiver skitters down my spine. I know that voice. I’ve grown accustomed to the way it makes my pulse quicken.
No man has ever intrigued me the way Decker does.
“But through their adamant disapproval,” Cole continues, “I knew this would be the perfect opportunity to bring us together. All of you were invited today because you’re a part of the family. And right now, with our uncle still fighting for his life in hospital, we need to remain close.”
My heart snags beneath tightening ribs. The flash of Uncle Richard’s bruised and swollen face assails my mind. The broken arm. The cracked skull. The unrecognizable form in a crisp white hospital bed littered with cords and IVs.
It would’ve been more humane if he’d died. No man should’ve survived his injuries.
“Not only was his attack a blatant display of what others will do to try to tear us apart, it’s also an act I can’t ignore. I will fight for what’s mine, and I will find everyone involved.”
For the naive, Cole’s speech could be considered protective and inspiring. To those who know him, it will be heard for the threat it is. It’s a reminder to those in this room who have contemplated betrayal. A clear warning to anyone questioning their loyalties.
Remaining devoted is the only option for anyone who values the breath in their lungs.
At one time the sentiment frightened me, back when I was a child and the harsh words of a heartless father were something I whimsically hoped he’d outgrow.
I’m the one who outgrew the whimsy.
I adapted to my circumstances because there was no alternative. The weak don’t survive here.
Mentally or physically.
“I will not stand idle and watch my family be destroyed. With Hunter and Sarah’s engagement, we become stronger. We show outsiders how powerful we are when we work together.”
I drown out my brother’s words with another sip of champagne and scrutinize the vultures eagerly waiting for the scent of blood. They want Cole to expose a weakness. The slightest flaw.
“For a powerful man, Torian sure talks a lot of shit, don’t you think?” Decker mutters.
I stifle a chuckle, my morbid thoughts being ripped away by his comic relief. “You can leave at any time,” I murmur over my shoulder, not willing to make eye contact.
I know what I’ll find in his expression, and it won’t be the cold calculation I see from everyone else.
“Yeah… sure I can,” he drawls. “With a bullet in the back of my skull as a parting gift.”
I cringe, the visual hitting with vivid clarity.
“Besides, I couldn’t leave you behind. You’d die of heartbreak. Sarah, too, for that matter. How could I live with the guilt?”
I roll my eyes. “Does your best friend know his fiancée is the only reason you stick around?”
“Of course. I tell him often.”
I snort, earning the attention of my brother, who pauses mid-speech to shoot me a glower.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
Cole’s hard gaze slips over my shoulder, his stare intensifying for a threatening moment, before he turns back to the crowd and continues his dictatorial speech.
“You’re a bad influence,” Decker mutters. “Nothing but trouble.”
I bite my lower lip, my neck tingling with the need to face him.
I’m dying for another glimpse of that spectacularly fitted suit. The chocolate hair styled to perfection. The shadow of stubble along his jaw that begs for my touch, and eyes so dark and deep I could lose myself.
Sometimes I want to lose myself.
Instead, I have to ignore the escapism that comes when I’m around him. The playfulness. The banter. Getting mixed up in him isn’t smart.
And I’m always smart.
“Stop playing games,” I murmur.
He chuckles, the subtle sound smooth and too damn cocky. “Life is a game. If it isn’t fun, what’s the point in playing?”
There’s a beat of silence where my heart lodges in my throat, then the crowd raises their glasses in unison. “To Hunter and Sarah.”
I follow suit and take another sip of champagne, this one longer than the last.
Decker’s scotch glass grazes my peripheral vision then disappears from view. I imagine his throat working over the liquor. The swipe of his tongue against his lower lip to lick away the moisture.
My mouth dries.
My skin prickles.
This man stokes to life a sexual appetite I’ve deliberately kept starved for years.
“I’m going to speak to the happy couple.” I hold my head high and saunter away, not wanting to test myself more than necessary. His warmth fades, leaving me chilled. My fake smile returns, and the sterility of my existence along with it.
“You’re hating every minute of this, aren’t you?” I ask Sarah in greeting.
“Yes.” She crosses her arms over her chest, fending off well wishes from guests with her hostile expression. “Do we look like the type to get giddy over an engagement party full of thugs?”
I cock my head in mock scrutiny. She’s beautiful, and not merely in physical form. She can be brutal and kind in the same breath. Vicious and caring. This woman is truly remarkable. “Will you strangle me if I say you’re not the type to get giddy over anything?”
Her lips twitch. “I’m not going to strangle you for an accurate assessment. But this—” She jerks her chin at the vultures. “This is in no way a reflection of what I’d like to be doing to celebrate our engagement. I have far more important things on my mind.”
“She means fucking,” Hunter adds, deadpan.
I grin. “Yeah, I figured.”
�
��Torian is right, though.” He pivots away from Sarah to watch my brother approach the bar. “Tonight was a good opportunity to get everyone together. We need to lock this shit down before the whole operation unravels.”
He’s referring to the attack on my uncle and how it makes our family hierarchy appear fragile. Especially when my father hasn’t shown his face in months. We’re teetering on shaky ground, but this isn’t the first time. And it won’t be the last.
“Has there been any news on who ran him down?” I hedge. “You know Cole doesn’t tell me much.”
“And that’s for your own safety.” Hunter’s response is gruff. “He’ll tell you what you need to know. When you need to know.”
My pulse increases with the placation. I despise being seen as the clueless little princess. But perception is everything. “Would your fiancée accept that type of overbearing protection?”
He holds my gaze, his eyes narrowing.
We both know Sarah would demand complete transparency. If kept in the dark, that woman would create havoc. I’d love to hold a fraction of her warrior’s reputation. To be known for strength instead of weakness. To be seen as an asset instead of a liability.
We are regarded in entirely different light, but in reality, we aren’t all that different. At least, that’s what I’d like to believe.
“I don’t like secrets, do I, handsome?” Sarah places her hand on Hunter’s chest and winks at me. “Don’t worry. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
He snags her wrist in a tight grip. “If you hear anything, you’ll keep your mouth shut, woman.”
She smirks. “Now you’re just turning me on, big guy. Do you want to take this macho bullshit some place private?”
His nostrils flare.
“Speaking of being turned on…” Decker appears beside me. “Have I told you ladies how gorgeous you look tonight?”
Hunter releases Sarah’s wrist and clenches his fist. “Don’t push me, Deck.”
“What did I do?” Decker holds up his hands in surrender. “It’s not like I told them I’m going to be picturing them while I’m all alone in the shower. I actually restrained myself this time. What more do you want from me?”
Sarah rolls her eyes, and yet again, I can’t help appreciating the lack of apprehension I feel around the joker beside me. Decker is a loose cannon. He’s the guy who eases tension with his endless sarcasm. He’s also the guy who will get himself killed for running his mouth.
I’m still trying to learn who he is. Piece by piece. Day by day.
I’ve witnessed a glimpse of honor and protection. But like all the others in this room, his actions could be for underhanded reasons.
“I want your respect,” Hunter grates.
“I respect you, buddy. Otherwise I would’ve taken off with your girl a long time ago.”
Sarah laughs. Long and loud. The sound is contagious. “Decker, you wouldn’t know how to handle me.”
“Maybe not, but I’m willing to learn.” He waggles his brows.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Hunter takes a threatening lunge forward.
Sarah grabs her fiancé’s hand and entwines their fingers. “You touch him and it means we have to stay here longer explaining the bloodied mess to Torian.”
Decker clucks his tongue in another taunt. “That’s a good puppy, Hunt. We all know Torian is as forgiving as I’m—”
“Intelligent?” Hunter interrupts.
“Sophisticated?” Sarah adds.
I want to add a sarcastic contribution and say unattractive, because God knows this man is as sexy as he is comical, but instead I offer, “Socially aware?”
“Jesus.” He retreats, and from the corner of my eye I see him slap a palm over his chest. “You don’t understand how much your words hurt.”
“My fists will hurt a lot more.” Hunter cracks his knuckles.
I smother a laugh under an unconvincing cough. “I’m going to get another dr—” My sentence is cut short by a burst of noise.
Glass shatters. People scream. Pop, pop, pops echo from the street, and I stand frozen as gunfire peppers the night like rain. Guests scatter, running, shoving. The lights go out, bathing us in darkened madness.
Decker barrels into me, knocking me to the ground, stealing the air from my lungs. I gasp for breath and fight to break free.
“Don’t move.” He shields me with his body, his head low, his gaze darting around the room as he pulls a gun from beneath his suit jacket. “Hunt, you good?”
“We’re good,” Sarah replies.
“Torian?” Hunter yells.
There’s no response other than women hysterically wailing and men shouting.
I struggle to get out from beneath Decker’s hard body, his weight becoming heavier. I’m trapped while my siblings could be lying in a pool of blood mere feet away.
“Cole,” I scream. “Layla.”
A shadow rushes toward us, my brother’s face coming into view. He’s panting, his gun in his hand. More pops ring out, but they’re different. Maybe our return fire.
“Get her out of here.” He doesn’t look at me as he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to Decker. “Guard her with your life or risk losing your own.”
2
Decker
I clench the car fob in my left hand, my gun in my right, and scramble into a crouched position.
“No.” Keira shakes her head. “Not without Layla.”
“I already told her to run. Now get moving.” Torian rushes toward the shattered windows of the restaurant, Hunter and Sarah following close behind.
“You heard the guy.” I hold out a hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
She rolls onto her stomach and scans the room. “I can’t leave without seeing Layla first.”
“You can. You will. And you are. Either on your feet or over my shoulder. It’s your choice, pumpkin.” I grab her wrist and tug. “You don’t want to be here if the shooter comes back.”
She struggles to her feet in the long evening dress, the tight material restricting the movement of her legs. Once upright, she continues to scan the darkness, the streetlights from outside the only illumination. “Layla.”
I pause, waiting for her sister’s shout, but there’s no reply. Only the sound of panic and hysteria as guests scramble like mice.
“Come on.” This time I yank her hard, pulling her into my side and trapping her there with an arm around her waist. I drag her toward the back of the restaurant, ignoring the trail of blood on the floor.
Keira remains strong, a mere shudder of breath and wide eyes her only show of fear.
“Keep walking.” I hold her against me and push through to the kitchen where women huddle in corners and hide beneath steel counters. “Get out of here. Escape out the back.”
They rush to follow my command, eager for any leadership.
“You okay?” I murmur near Keira’s ear, not appreciating her silence.
“Yes.” One word. One syllable. No emotion.
I can’t tell if she’s totally badass or so tightly wound she doesn’t know how to express the fucked up shit running through her head.
We make into the fresh air as the small crowd of females flee the employee parking lot in a mass of sobs and clicking heels.
It’s then that Keira plants her feet and turns in my arms. “Layla wouldn’t have run without me. I need to go back.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong. Fear does crazy things—”
“There’s no more gunfire. I’m going back.”
She takes a step, and I block her path. “It was a drive-by. How hard do you think it is for them to turn around and go for round two?”
She narrows her eyes on me, her pupils almost eating up all the pretty blue. “Who’s to say they’re not trolling the back streets trying to gun down those who escape through the alley?”
Good point. Unfortunately, not good enough to convince me to let her go.
“That’s a risk we’re going to
have to take.” I drag her to the black Porsche parked a few feet away and unlock the doors with the fob Torian gave me.
I don’t even get her door open before the unmistakable wail of police sirens poisons the air.
The sound is close. Too close.
They were watching.
Fuck.
“We need to move.” I yank open the passenger door and wait.
She blinks at me, her breathing labored. “Please, Decker, let me stay.” She tries to wear me down with puppy dog eyes, her master manipulation working for more seconds than I care to admit.
“Get in the damn car.” I pull her forward and have her huddled inside before she can pummel me with another protest. Then I’m sliding into the driver’s seat, placing my gun in her lap, and starting the engine while red and blue flashes through the sky.
I don’t turn on the headlights. I drive down back alleys in darkness until we’re blocks away and I can risk returning to the city streets.
I have no clue where I’m going, I just drive, her constant anxiety-riddled glances out the rear window a torturous companion as adrenaline pulses through my veins.
I check the mirrors and don’t find anything suspicious to worry about. “We’re not being followed.”
“How do you know?”
I pull to the curb and let all the vehicles in the vicinity pass. Then I take the next left down a side street. “See.” I jerk my chin at the mirror. “Nobody is tailing us.”
She keeps her focus on the rear window, poised to prove me wrong even after I turn left along a desolate road, then right down another.
“You okay?” I switch on the radio, letting the soft murmur ease the tension.
“Stop asking me that.” She settles into her seat, her hands delicately stroking the barrel of my gun.
My gaze keeps returning to her fingers, the nails polished in a feminine light pink to match the darker color of her dress. “Do you know how to use it?”
Her movements pause, those soft hands shifting to her thighs. Her nails dig into the shimmering fabric along her legs, betraying her tightly guarded distress. She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t give me an inch.
Decker Page 2
