The two men smoking by a blue transit van take their time to notice my approach. Finally, they look up and clock me heading right to the entrance. My feet march right past them, only stopping long enough to rip open the front door and step inside.
A neat little reception office conveys the proper surroundings for the furniture business the building doubles as. I walk right on in and up the stairs before anyone even thinks to challenge me. The ‘manager’ sign on the door gives me a clue and I burst in. I pull out the faux-leather chair opposite Andreas and kick my feet up on his desk before he has time to greet me.
“Make yourself comfortable, hermana.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I intend to.”
“Have you brought my diamonds?”
“Not what we need to address right now. I just walked right through your business and up to your office with no questions asked. And you are meant to have a hit out on you. Care to explain?” Andreas sits back in his chair, mimicking my own pose.
“They knew to expect you. If it were anyone else, you’d have never reached me.” His bravado won’t work on me.
“Really? Well, glad to see you value your life. Was it really necessary for me to come to your aid? Hmm?”
“What the fuck, Gabby? I’m your brother.”
“Yes,” I state, standing and leaning over the desk. “You are my brother. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“Are you done? Have you got them? My diamonds?”
“My diamonds, hermano. I am the one who gave you the means to deal in stones and look where it got you.”
“I don’t know what the fuck went down. That’s not on me.”
“Of course, it’s your fault!” I slam my palms on the wooden surface of his desk and make sure Andreas has no room for confusion. “You let a bunch of armed men raid your deal and make off with half the payment for your partner. This was your deal. You should have known all the elements, all the potential players. Who you were dealing with, who might be interested, how they might disrupt the situation, who your future buyers could be, your competition, your allies. Do you want me to go on?” I tilt my head to the side and wait for his response.
“Don’t come in here and pretend that you know what you’re talking about. Getting some forged documents and a few million in blood diamonds is hardly the biggest deal I’ve brokered.” His smug grin makes my palm itch to slap it off his face.
“If you weren’t so self-centred and cocky, you might be able to see where you went wrong. You fucked up, Andreas. So you’re going to listen to me and take my help. It only comes one way. All or nothing. If you choose nothing, then the diamonds and all my connections walk. We will be done. For good.”
“Big words from you.”
“Feel free to test me. I assure you, after this, we are done anyway.”
“And the deal?” It’s the first time he’s shown any sign of real concern.
“That’s now up to me. I’ll run the deal. I’ll make the decisions. All I care about is that this Mortoni guy lifts the hit on you.” I walk around Andreas and his desk and wait for his answer.
“You were much easier to please as a little girl, Gabriella. I sometimes forget that you are a grown woman now.”
“You forget a lot, Andreas. Now, explain the deal, all of the details, and I need Mortoni’s phone number.”
Half an hour later, I leave Andreas and head back to the hotel. Everything I need is on my phone, including a recording of our conversation. Detail is key when planning anything, and I need to be able to recall and know the finer points of my brother’s world as readily as he does.
After making two laps of the hotel and a ten-minute stop in the lobby, I make my way to my room and lock myself inside. My first job is to make contact and set the meet in motion with Mortoni. How he reacts and what his rules are will determine the rest of my actions. The priority is to keep my brother from his grave.
For now.
“Mr Mortoni?” There’s no answer as the phone connects.
“Who is this and how do you have my number?”
“My name is Gabriella. I believe we met a few weeks ago. Or rather, we were due to before being rudely interrupted.”
“Andreas’ sister.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“And what can I do for you?”
“You can start by removing the hit you have out on my brother.” I turn around in the room and look out the window at the road lined with traffic.
“That won’t be possible. Unless…” He elongates the word, ramping up the slimy feel to his voice.
“Unless?” I snap, not wanting to get sucked into any games.
“You have what was promised to me. A simple trade.” He does it again, drawing out the vowels of the words.
“I have half the original package. Don’t play games with me, Mr Mortoni. I’m not like my brother.” I hang up, hoping I haven’t just pissed him off. The diamonds are mine for now. If—and it’s a big if—Mortoni doesn’t play along, then there are other ways to clear my brother’s debt.
My phone rings and I leave it for three more rings. “Hello.”
“Miss Alves, may I suggest you don’t fuck with me,” he snarls down the phone.
“Now I have your attention. And now you know I’m not like my brother. I suggest we meet and we can clear the matter up.”
“And why am I speaking to you and not Andreas?” I can hear the question in his voice. My stunt worked.
“All business associated with the Alves family and diamonds is now under my direct control.” The words are as crystal clear as I can make them, stamping all of my authority over what my brother has cultivated. Andreas can keep his empire if he must, but the diamonds are mine and mine alone. Certainly until I can get my brother out of the position he’s in.
“Gabriella. May I call you Gabriella? It seems only fair if we are to be doing business together.” His voice oozes fake charm like I’m a cheap date he wants to butter up before groping me under the table.
“Of course. But you need to repay the courtesy.”
“Marco. Now, Gabriella, I have some business this week, but I’d very much like to move to the part where I get my diamonds. There are some…clients I have business with. I’d like them for that meeting.” There’s a pause, silence making me frown. “Two days’ time. Can I count on you being available?”
My fingers wander over the back of a chair. “Well, that all depends. Where is themeet?” Marco isn’t the only one who can turn on the charm when needed, although it galls me to even bother.
“Chicago. Of course, I don’t want travel to be an issue for you. I’ll send the jet to collect you. But only you, Gabriella. These are my terms.” Chicago. My eyes flutter closed at the thought. Great. “After our meeting, we can discuss the future of any business between us.”
Of all the casinos in the world, it had to be the one place I associate with Nate.
“Chicago? Is the place confirmed with your other associates?” If I don’t have to travel to the place, I’m not going to. The likelihood of crossing paths with Nate is minute. Practically impossible. He’s an accountant.
Who plays the craps tables really well.
“This is the only option for you, Gabriella.”
An icy tone chills his voice and I know I’ve found his limit. “If you say this is the meeting place, I can be flexible with my own plans. Chicago isn’t top of my list of places to visit, but I’m sure I can make this an exception. I’ll only need the plane one way.”
“Good. I’ll send you the itinerary. I very much look forward to meeting you.”
He ends the call and leaves me more distracted than I should be.
To pull this off and set this correctly, I can’t be pining for a man I had a holiday fling with. I need to be the sharpest, hardest and most ruthless I’ve ever been.
That’s the only way.
Or I might as well shoot Andreas myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Chic
ago
My jaw stretches, teeth grinding away the ache that Quinn put there—again.
Asshole.
Maybe we needed it, though.
We didn’t talk. We fought. Plain and simple. Brawled our way around that jet like a pair of twelve-year-olds with nothing left to lose, until his skull bounced off the door and some element of sense came rushing back to me. Ten minutes of me backing away and dodging and he was wound up enough for me to land one final punch to the fucker’s cheek.
“Still all Cane,” he said, some smug satisfaction in his tone.
All Cane.
I stare around my lounge, looking at its minimal design, unsure what to do with myself. Normal protocol has me dressed and out of the door by six thirty most days, at the office an hour later, but that hasn’t been the case since I’ve come home. I’ve stayed here all day, choosing this outlook rather than sinking straight back into the office, but everything seems upturned somehow, like even the space around me is chaotic regardless of its clean lines. And I can’t concentrate properly. I’m lost in thought as I attempt to process numbers like I always do, part of me still hoping for relaxed beaches rather than cold calculation. I’ve even tried breaking into the FBI’s cyber security again, just for the hell of it, in the hope of diverting myself. It hasn’t worked.
It’s her. I know it is. She’s still inside me somehow, making me see things differently. I long for colourful prints to be laid on my bare surfaces, for laughter to echo through the desolate expanse of wealth I’ve created. It’s all so fucking cold here—the air, the December chill beginning to creep into Chicago’s gloomy sky. My home. There’s nothing but the mechanics of my computers, my systems, the protocols I’ve lived by, and the insular intelligence that affords me.
I might as well live inside the web itself for all the emotion I’ve allowed myself here.
The thought has me standing and walking towards the window to gaze up at the main house illuminated by the night lights, perhaps hoping for inspiration to tell me what to do. Quinn’s still not moved in. He’s chosen to stay in his own place on the grounds. I’m not sure why. Maybe when they’re married and he gets her here full-time, he’ll change his mind. Or maybe the fucker is a little more occupied with the image of killing our father than I thought.
Mother.
I gaze at her window, wondering if I should go visit her. I haven’t been since I got back. For some reason, I’ve found the thought difficult. Not that she will have even noticed I’ve not seen her for nearly a month, but I should check, make sure the nurses are doing their jobs correctly. I snort and turn back into the room, grabbing my coat as I head for the door. I don’t know why I’m worrying. Everything will be as it always is. Safe and secure. Her meds exactly as they should be. If there’s one woman Quinn does love, it’s our mother.
The fresh chill hits me square in the guts as I step outside and walk towards my car. I half halt and look at her room again, then shake my head and open the Jag’s door. I’m not in the mood for her. Not ready to hide my feelings from her. She knows me too well in her moments of clarity, sees inside me quicker than anyone can—Quinn included. And last time she asked me about Josh, asked where he was. I didn’t have any answer for that.
Still don’t.
The drive is as silent as it always is. No music. A gentle lull in the engine beneath me. Nothing more than that. I never push its power or give in to its abilities. I’m not like that. I used to find it peaceful, use the silence to focus my thoughts on whatever fucked up plan Quinn was amassing into Cane life. Now I find the stillness around me disrupting. It gives too much space for my brain to remember dreams rather than focus on anything productive.
I turn the radio on, punching at buttons until some monotone drone tries to disperse the air. It doesn’t work. I’m still as infatuated with the sound of her voice, her eyes, and her laughter, as I’m pretending not to be. It’s all her, has been since the moment she disappeared. And it still makes no fucking sense at all.
A car overtakes me, barely avoiding crashing into me as it cuts back in front. I snarl at the white BMW, my foot hovering on the accelerator ready to shunt the fucker into the middle of next week. But that’s not what Nate Cane does either, is it? No. Nate stays controlled and looks for the simplest solution, tracks the odds of engagement before he goes headlong into something without a plan. My fingers tighten on the wheel, though. They grip on, grinding the leather between my palms as my foot presses the pedal a little more.
Fucking cars and noise.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m tailing the dick, car ramping up to eighty-five with barely ten inches of distance between us. I can see his eyes glancing back at me, a look of uncertainty in them as he tries to swerve around and get out of my way. I press down further on the pedal, revving the hell out of the engine and crawling in closer until I feel the touch link us together. Fury embeds itself in me for no fucking reason at all. It rises inside, sending visions of that missing rucksack reeling back into my mind.
His break lights flash, which only makes me increase the pressure and start turning my car slightly, pivoting him off to the left towards the railings between the freeways. The fucking eyes widen then. They keep flicking back to me. That’s fear right there. I know it well. And for some reason, and maybe for the first time in my life, it excites me. Enough so that I press harder still, pushing him closer and closer to the rail with no care for what the end result might be.
Metal grates as he crunches into the rails. It screeches and churns, infiltrating my eardrums and bringing some clarity to what I’m doing. I blink, fingers loosening a touch as I watch the sparks jump around the front of his hood and spray into the wind behind us.
The hell am I doing?
I ease off slowly, a sharp pull of breath trying to calm me down as I watch the BMW regain control of itself and taper onto the shoulder alongside us. I stare at him as I go by, steely resolve iced into my features to let him know who he just pissed off. He looks scared, frightened. I’m not surprised. He should be thankful it wasn’t my brother driving this car. Lucky is what he is.
Damn lucky.
By the time I get into Chicago I’ve barely reached a decision as to why I’m even here.
I pull into the office bays then swing the car straight around and head back out onto the road again. I can’t think. There’s nothing in my mind but her and why the hell she disappeared. Over and over I’ve churned the information, analysing the shit out of it. Why the hell it’s so important to me, I don’t know, but it’s the only thing occupying my thoughts. I’m pissed at her. Aggravated. I need a reason, something to end it correctly rather than have it strung out with no conclusion. Fuck. It was easy when I knew there was an end point for us. Easier still when I thought there might not have been one at all. But this shit? Running off and leaving me with no explanation? That shit is not acceptable.
I need to find the bitch.
I need a fucking drink.
I’m heading back along the freeway towards The Regent and calling Quinn before I’ve given any consideration to what I’m going to say, or what the hell I’m thinking about.
“We talking again?” I sigh, still not entirely sure we are, but needing him nonetheless.
“Fuck you. I need your help to find someone.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Why?” he eventually asks.
“I’ve got unfinished business with her.” I hear the breaths pull in on the line, the steady click of his dice biting my nerves as he weighs up that option. He’s trying to work out if me being fucked up over a woman is detrimental to the company or not. It’s a damn good point, one I’m trying to get my own head around.
“What’s her name?”
“Gabby.”
He chuckles lightly. “That it?”
“Yeah.” I sigh at that, too. That’s all I’ve got. All the shit we did together, all the fun and laughter, and all I’ve got is a
first name. Jesus. “Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
More silence, both of us probably knowing exactly what needs to be said but neither of us saying it. Let it go and move on. Get your head back in the game regardless of what’s happened. I know it, and so does he.
Cane must move on.
“Better get your head straight, brother. You’ll be needed back soon.” I frown and nod at the phone, hand steering me round the corners and up to the front of the casino.
“Yeah. I know.”
He ends the call without any goodbyes just as I pull to a stop, and the concierge is by my side in eight seconds flat, fingers pulling the door to the car open before I’ve taken a damn breath.
I glare at him, not ready to go in there and fuck her out of me. I know it needs doing. I need to find my whores and enjoy them until I forget the dream with Gabby. One night and it’ll disappear from memory. One night with my dick stuffed inside something else and I’ll be able to level my thoughts back to the control this business needs from me.
Home. Cane. Business. That’s it. That’s my life.
It’s all I’ve got.
Damn her and her running.
The walk through the casino doesn’t conjure up anything new. Same people, same faces. Same whores. I scan around, noting some of Marco’s minions hanging by the bar. That doesn’t surprise me either. Since we aligned, Quinn has half our people in Mortoni’s places, too, as if we’re all constantly second guessing how aligned we actually are.
We’re not. Not completely.
Even I know that, regardless of Quinn saying I know nothing.
Marco Mortoni’s always been out for his own deals. It’s the reason he let Quinn kill his father after all. But I nod at one of them anyway for congeniality’s sake, and cross to the other bar, not interested in discussing anything other than the fucking I need. I’m not ready for business yet. I’ve got to get her gone, out of my mind. I’ll be useless at conversational acumen until I’ve rid myself of the dream she ran away from.
Devious Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 2) Page 12
