Devious Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 2)

by Charlotte E Hart

  Den walks in from the side as we reach the doorway, the brother in the same position as I am on his side. Gabby doesn’t acknowledge him at all, just opens the doors for us and hustles to the car as Quinn throws her the keys. I frown at that, wondering why she doesn’t give a damn, but then, like she said, not much of a family. And the dick caused all of this in a roundabout way. Greedy, fucking stupid. Risking his family for monetary gain.

  I watch her run over the dirt, bare skin and nothing but Den’s shirt to cover her body. The sight disgusts me, causes more vengeance to wreak havoc on my insides. She’s bruised, battered, that beautiful hair of hers matted together, parts of it torn from her scalp. Real men wouldn’t involve a younger sister in anything like this, no matter how good a thief she is. They would have kept her clear of danger, protected her.

  Perhaps I should have let that Yakuza bitch kill him.

  I stiffen at the thought of protecting her, trying to carry my own weight again so I can get to her, help her, but everything’s so fucking numb, like it won’t work anymore.

  Quinn heaves me into the car, lying me across the backseat, and then slams the door and jumps in the passenger side. Gabby’s already spinning the wheel by the time he closes his own door. I shake my head again, trying to focus and sit up a little, but I’m so heavy. And I can’t see properly, my vision murky.

  “You drive a manual?” he asks her. There’s no reply, only a clunk as I watch him lean over to her. “There, floor it.”

  “Where?” she asks.

  He knocks something into the GPS, and then looks back at me, a smirk settling on his face, as the car careers off at speed. “A hundred and twenty-five million, huh?”

  I smile a little and try to keep myself steady as the car powers on, bumps and jars sending me rolling about.

  “What?” she says, her head turning back to look over her shoulder. Again, I try to focus on her, see her clearly, but she’s all hazy, too, just like Quinn.

  “They’ll want that back,” he continues.

  They can go screw themselves.

  I slump back, giving in to whatever feeling I’m having, and close my eyes to listen to the pair of them rather than trying to focus any longer. Their tones mingle, making me smile again at the sound of them. One trusted, old, dependable in his own way—no matter how fucked up that might be. The other new and fresh, a future laid out for me should we choose that in the end. Not that I’ll ever be sure with her, but after all this I can hope.

  “What about a hundred and twenty-five million?” she says.

  “Seems like my brother’s a better thief than I gave him credit for.” Quinn laughs a little. “Better shot, too.”

  The jolts and jars start smoothing out at some point as I listen to them talk, and the ride becomes nothing more than a hum of engine noise beneath me. I can hear them vaguely, but they seem distant somehow, like they’re not with me. It doesn’t matter. I’m happy knowing they’re both alive, both breathing. Risked or not, we’ve won this small battle against the Yakuza, shown them we won’t be fucked with.

  I snort lightly to myself, head relaxed against the material of the seat as we drive on. Of all the things I planned this year, this wasn’t it. This year was supposed to be about harmony and safety, finding a way to watch Quinn get married to Emily, be at peace with that and let Josh go. Instead, we’ve waged a war. I’ve waged war, dragging us, whether I like it or not, back into a life I’ve worked so hard to put aside.

  It’s a fucking exhausting thought.

  Regardless of the blood staining my hands.

  I’m so damn tired of it all—tired of worrying about Quinn, tired of worrying about mother. And I’m still angry about father, too. That shit needs talking about. It does. Brawling like twelve-year-olds doesn’t get the words out that he needs to hear from me, doesn’t get them past my own lips. Or maybe it does. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen between us. He’s my brother after all. Cane blood. Loyalty until the end, proved by what’s just happened. I don’t know. I’m so goddamn tired.

  My eyes try to open, to find some clarity, but they’re so heavy I can barely prise them apart. Gabby’s alive. That’s all I care about. It’s all so blurry now, confused again. My mind, the feeling beneath me as we drive on, the hum of the engine. It all seems to lull me towards sleep no matter how hard I try to think. Maybe that’s best for now. We’re all safe, aren’t we? No concerns anymore. I can just sleep, let go for a while and finally stop planning. Relax.

  I listen for their voices again, wanting to hear them and remind myself what this has all been for. No more arguing. No more confusion or pain. We’ll be a team again, me and Quinn. Me and Gabby. Family. There’s a future out there. I can feel it.

  My head rolls to the side, eyes trying to open again. It’ll be fine. Fine. It’ll all be fine. I’m just gonna lie here and think of Bora, think of her in the water, pristine skin on show for me to see. We’ll be at the docs soon, so he can fix this shit in my leg. That’s where we’re going, I assume.

  I wanna go back there, to Bora. Wanna dream again and walk beaches hand in hand.

  Fuck, I’m tired.

  So tired.

  “Nate?” There’s my name again from her lips. God, it sounds good coming from them. Never thought it would mean something to me, but it does. I’d die to make sure that voice carries on, even if I can’t hear it. She should make new versions of herself, have children and keep smiling forever. They’d run along beaches together while we strolled behind them, laughing. “Nate?” A thief. My little thief. Sent to screw my morals over. “Nate?” I better tell her I love her soon. Make sure she knows that. Too tired now, though. I’m just gonna sleep for a while. Check out for a bit. I’ll tell her later. “NATE?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

  The mantra runs through my mind over and over as I watch the life drain from his face in the rearview mirror. He’s murmuring words that I can’t make out, and I split my concentration between the road in front of me and what I’m looking back at.

  “Quinn, tell me what’s happening.” He doesn’t. He stays quiet as the fear of god runs through me. Suddenly I’m awake. I can focus, and that’s all I need to do. Nate needs me to drive this car and get him to the doctor who will save his life.

  The time ticks down on the ETA to the hospital, and with every passing moment, I pray he makes it. I pull up outside what looks like an office block rather than a hospital. “Are we in the right place? Quinn?”

  “We’re fine,” he says calmly as he gets out. “I need to help Nate.”

  As I round the car, there’s a man in a white doctor’s coat approaching us, pushing a gurney alongside a nurse. He ignores me and goes straight to Quinn as another gurney comes racing out, too.

  “Gunshot wound. Lodged in his thigh. I suspect it’s hit the artery.” Quinn gives a clear and concise run down as if it’s not his brother he’s talking about.

  “Rita, we need him prepped for surgery. Type and crossmatch, FFP and page Doctor Neals.”

  The shirt I’ve been wearing since the warehouse blows open and I pull it around my body as I watch the doctor take Nate away. I follow quickly after, struggling to keep up with Quinn. The pain my body’s been struggling through creeps back to life, lighting up my nerves, but the sound of another car drawing in pulls my attention. I turn and watch as Andreas is hauled out of it, one of Nate’s team from the warehouse pushing him towards the doctors. Confliction is brief, and I head back for Nate without another thought. They wheel him directly to a waiting elevator, but it closes on me as I walk in the door.

  “Um, I’m with them. I need to get to wherever they’re going.” The woman behind the desk of the reception table looks up at me, and I see the expression on her face change as she takes me in.

  “Are you family?” she asks, raising her brow and tilting her face to give the impression she’s talking down to me.

  “Yes. Which floor?” I won’t have
this woman stand between Nate and me.

  “Twelfth floor. You can take the elevator over there.” She points behind her, and I manage a smile.

  When I exit, the corridor is clean, neat and nothing like any hospital I’ve ever been in. Glass walls, private rooms and plush seating.

  “Excuse me. I’m here with the man who was just brought up.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. If you’d like to take a seat. His brother will be out in a moment. Can I get anyone to see to you?”

  “No, thank you.” I head to the area she’s indicated and take a seat. There’s a sofa in the corner of what I make out as the family room. I take off my boots and tuck my legs under me, pulling the shirt around myself so I’m still decent, and wait.

  Quinn comes into the space a few moments later. “Is he alright? What’s happening?” I splutter out, legs dropping back to the floor as I try to stand. He holds a hand up at me, a scowl on his face.

  “He’s in surgery. We’ll find out soon.” His eyes don’t make it to mine, and I’m struck by how different he is to the man I first met in the casino. He had a charm about him then. Now, I can see the raw emotion brimming under the surface like he’s trying to wrestle something into submission. Pain lingers in his eyes.

  It’s a pain I’m familiar with. Seeing your brother hurt can be terrifying.

  He starts to pace. The room isn’t long, so he walks in and out, past the reception desk, turns and comes back. He has something in his hand, something clinking quietly as it turns. It’s distracting in a way, a hypnotic movement keeping pace with the slow movement of time.

  My eyes try to close, dropping down as I fight the exhaustion my body is wrestling with. But I can’t risk missing news of Nate. Hell, I don’t even know what happened to Andreas.

  “Quinn?”

  He stops his pacing and looks at me, impatience at my interruption clear on his face.

  “Is my brother alive?” I blurt. Until now I’ve been so focused on Nate but seeing the look in Quinn’s eyes pulls my attention to my blood family. He huffs and snarls at me, irritated at my questions.

  “He’s here. In recovery. Through and through to the shoulder.”

  “Thank you.” The relief isn’t as clear as it should be. Now I’m torn between wanting to find Andreas and staying for Nate, although why I care a damn for Andreas now I don’t know. He watched them attack me, rape me. What family does that? My body throbs with pain and my head pounds as I contemplate the last few days. Nothing will be the same again, not for any of us.

  So many questions drift through my foggy brain. I’m so tired it’s hard to make sense of them all. If only I could sleep.

  The woman from the desk stands in front of me. “Is he alright? Did anything happen?” I might not have been asleep, but I certainly checked out for a while.

  “He’s fine. He’s still in surgery. They should be finishing up soon.”

  “How long has it been?” My vision blurs as I try to hold her attention.

  “Oh, maybe an hour or two?”

  Quinn is still pacing. He’s lost the jacket and has his sleeves rolled up his forearms.

  “Quinn?”

  He doesn’t acknowledge my presence but continues his ritual until I fall back into listening to the pacing. When he doesn’t come back into the room as normal, I start to worry, breaking me of the haze I’ve hidden in. Voices sound in the hall. I ease up from my position, all my joints struggling with keeping up with the movement I demand.

  Quinn is talking to the doctor, both their brows furrowed. Frustration sparks inside me as I realise how left out I am. Quinn’s only acknowledged me when I’ve asked a direct question; other than that, he’s seemed hostile, cold. I have no significance here, yet my heart tells me Nate is the most significant part of my life.

  The woman approaches me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Look, if he’s still in surgery, you have some time to go look after yourself. Take a shower andclean yourself up. I can get you a change of clothes?”

  “I want to be here when he wakes up.” I can’t imagine not seeing Nate after coming through something major. Not anymore.

  “You’ll have time. I promise. It looks like you need to take a few moments for yourself.” Her eyes are kind, and I see the sympathy she’s offering.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, unsure how steady my voice will be.

  She takes me through to an area where there’s a private bathroom and shower, kindly leaving a set of clean scrubs on the chair as she disappears.

  The mirror dominates the room. There’s no way for me to avoid seeing my reflection, but I wish I could. My skin is a rainbow of colours, each hit and punch making a patchwork of colour over my skin. Red, puffy eyes look back at me. I grit my teeth and rise above the woman in the mirror. She’s not the real me. She’s the me who survived.

  I tear the shirt off my skin, disgusted with it. My blood-stained knickers I kick to the side, along with my bra. If I could, I’d burn the lot, eradicating the memory and turning it to dust.

  The water is a soothing balm to my skin, washing away the dirt and grime as I scrub between my thighs. But it gives me pause to take in the events. The pain. A sob breaks free, and I let it. I’ve held back the tears that may show my weakness, but there’s no one here to see them. Not even Nate.

  The first wave of emotion is gentle, but it doesn’t stay that way. Violent heaves and gasps pour from my throat as I scream my anguish. The tears are lost in the water from the shower, but my body feels the relief from letting them out. It makes room for the anger and hurt, the worry and fear to rush in and clog up my mind.

  I always thought that it would be impossible to cry all your tears away. But it’s not. After my hands turn wrinkly, my breathing is back under control, and there’s no more venom to purge from my body, I turn the shower off. The drops of water splashing into little puddles is all I concentrate on as I let my skin adjust to the cool air.

  Sluggish.

  Everything hurts, but right now that’s not what I need to focus on. I don’t care what Quinn says; I need to see Nate and he won’t stop me. Not after everything I’ve endured.

  The material of the scrubs scratches against my skin, but they’re clean and cover me. I emerge from the room and make my way back to the lady who directed me to the shower. She’s busy tapping away at her keyboard as I approach.

  “Hi, I’d like to see Nate.” My voice is calm and firm.

  “Of course.” She steps out and ushers me down the hall to what I assume is a private room. Quinn is still pacing outside, his hand still crunching something.

  “Thank you.” I dismiss the woman. I don’t need an audience for this.

  I walk over towards the door, but Quinn manoeuvres to block my path. “Excuse me, please.”

  “He’s resting. He’s still coming round. No visitors.”

  “No. He needs to be around the people who love him. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

  “He was nearly dead because of you,” he spits out, his body finally squaring up to me as his hands drop to his side. Aggression is in every line of his body, firmly directed at me. “And he’s not damn well alone. Never has been.” My heart sinks a little, the thought of his words confusing me. He’s right, I know that, but Nate did this for me. For me. I refuse to not be there for him when he wakes. “Why don’t you just fucking leave?” he mutters.

  I stare him down for a few seconds, anger and all the pent-up confusion finding strength in me that will not be moved, no matter how harsh he seems.

  “Move, Quinn.” I step around him and open the door, but before I can enter he bars my path with his arm, nearly pushing me out of the way. “You might be his brother, but I love him, too. Don’t fucking shut me out,” The words hiss out of me, trying to stay calm as my eyes glare into his. “I’m in this with him, Quinn. With you both.” He raises his chin, making him seem impossibly tall in front of me. I don’t care. I’m going in that room. “Get out of my way.”
r />   “There’s my girl.” A hoarse sounding Nate speaks up from within the room.

  “Nate!” I rush over and take his hand. He opens his mouth to say something. “No, shhh. You need to rest.”

  “You’re both here? Quinn?” he slurs as his eyes drift closed again.

  “I’m here.” Quinn lingers in the doorway, propping himself against the doorjamb with a scowl on his face.

  “Excuse me, Sir.” I turn to see the doctor come in past Quinn. “Good to see you back with us Mr Cane.” He checks a few monitors and the chart at the end of the bed. “He’ll be pretty groggy for the next few hours. He lost a lot of blood.”

  “But he’ll be okay? He’s awake now? He’s not in any more danger?” I wish I didn’t have to question this but seeing Nate so vulnerable has my heart in my throat.

  “He’s through the worst, but we still need to monitor him.”

  “Stop fussing. I’m fine.” Nate opens his eyes and squeezes my hand.

  “Very well. The nurse will continue to monitor him.”

  “Excuse me, Doctor?” I catch his attention before he makes it past Quinn.

  “Yes.” He turns and looks at me expectantly, but the words dry up in my mouth, and I swiftly lose my confidence to speak.

  “Can I speak to you privately?” I let go of Nate’s hand, but he grabs my arm before I have a chance to slip away.

  “You’re not leaving my side. Whatever it is, just say it.” His eyes are still cloudy, but he’s more alert than he was a few moments ago. I shake my head and clench my jaw, hoping he’ll let this go.

  All he does is grip my arm tighter and move to re-capture my hand.

  “Doctor…” I start. I lock my eyes with Nate and think back to our time together in paradise. Where nothing but us mattered. Before pain and grief and violence had a chance to sabotage what we had. “I’d like you to examine my injuries please.” I look the doctor right in the eye, silently pleading with him to take that and move me out of the room.