“Of course. Looking at them, I can see you’ve sustained quite heavy trauma to the face, but most of that has come out in bruising.”
“No. It’s not just my face. Can we go to another room?” Panic starts to choke me as I fear admitting the true extent of what happened to me. I’m sure Nate must know but having to admit it will make it all real. Real between us.
The doctor’s expression softens, and I hope he’s caught on to what I’m trying to say. “Of course. This way.” He smiles at me, but my hand is still in Nate’s.
He pulls on it, getting my attention. “Tell me, Gabby.” There’s steel to his voice that wasn’t there before.
I shake my head again, not wanting to see the admission hit him. Tears sting my eyes as I raise them to look him in the eye. He knows. He knows what I’m going to say, but he’s going to make me say the words anyway.
“I was raped.”
We stare at each other for a moment and I can see his body tensing, the cords of his neck tightening and strength returning to his fingers as he holds onto my hand for dear life. We’re caught in our own silent conversation, avoiding the world around us.
The pain that cuts me open every time I think about what happened to me, shines back at me from Nate. But there’s something else behind his eyes.
Rage.
“You should leave with the doctor, Gabby.” Quinn steps into the room and crosses to the bed, as if he can read his brother just as well as I can. I nod, but my feet don’t move. Not right away.
“Gabby,” Quinn prompts.
I leave with the doctor and close the door behind me. It’s not enough to keep the deafening thunder of Nate’s rage from reaching me. He roars in anger, shouting so loudly I want to turn around and go back to him. His pain amplifies mine and there’s nothing that will fix it. I can’t hear the words he’s shouting at his brother, but I know they will be filled with vengeance. He tore up a room full of people to get to me. A big part of me wants nothing more than to go back into that room and prove I’m alright, but if I don’t do this now, I won’t find the courage again. Quinn is with him.
“Can we do this quickly, please? I’d rather not leave him for long.”
“Of course. I’ll get a colleague to do the exam.”
Chapter Thirty
I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but the blur of light as I come round blinds me. My hand goes up, trying to shield myself from whatever’s irritating my eyes. It gives me enough of a break to squint into the room. It’s different from where I was last time I was awake. Bigger.
“Gabby?” my voice croaks out.
There’s no response, nothing but an occasional bleep and the dull sound of a machine whirring beside me. I struggle to pull myself up, back propped on the headboard as I take stock of wherever the hell I am. It looks like a hotel room or suite, double doors at the end opening into a lounge area.
A nurse walks in, a smile on her face as she approaches.
“Good to see you awake, Mr Cane,” she says, picking up a chart from the end of the bed and coming to my side. She holds up a tube running out of my arm, flicking it and writing something down on the pad. “I think we can take this out now.”
“Where am I?” I ask, watching as she draws the needle out of my arm and takes the tube with it. “Where’s Gabby, my brother?”
“Recovery.”
That’s all I get. She just walks back out of the room again, slotting the clipboard back into place as she goes. I frown, glancing around the luxury room again, golds and creams on show, and then try to lift my legs from the bed. Pain sluices through my right side, knocking the breath out of me and sending me straight back to the headboard.
“Fuck.” That shit hurts.
Someone chuckles, clicking damn dice following the sound.
Asshole.
“Where the hell am I?” I ask, still dealing with the pain and waiting for him to come around the corner through the double doors. He does eventually, a smile plastered across his face as he looks me over. “And where’s Gabby?” He scowls at that, the smile dispersing as fast as it came.
“Not here.” He walks to the window beside me.
“Why?”
“Because I told her to go.”
“What?”
“Take a look at yourself, Nate. You know how close you were to dying?” The hell’s that got to do with anything? He rolls his dice some more, frowning. “About six seconds and fuck all luck helping you.” He turns to look at me, throwing his dice onto the bed by my hand. “You had worse odds than even they could give.”
“And that has something to do with Gabby because?” I try to move my legs again, bearing the pain this time and managing to swing them to the side so I’m looking at him. “You call her and get her here. Now.”
“No. This is all her fault. It’s done. She’s gone and you’re safe, for now.”
“I swear to god, Quinn, if you don’t call her I’ll—”
“What? You’ll what?” I lower myself to the floor, ready to find my phone and call her myself. Screw this crap. My legs buckle, my right side giving way completely under the pressure of my weight. He’s caught me and dumped me back on the bed before I can take another damn breath. “Stay there.” He picks up a glass of water and tries to hand it to me. “Drink.”
“Where the hell is she?” I snap, trying to get down again and knocking the water away. She’s been raped, and he thinks I want a drink of fucking water? He pushes his sleeves up, rolling them as he watches me and frowns. “It was all for her, Quinn. All of it. You think you can just send her away now it’s done?”
“You’re goddamn right it was,” he says quietly, pushing on my shoulder to stop me. “And you nearly died because of it.”
“And?” I push back, no strength there to force him off of me. “That’s what Cane is all about, isn’t it? Killing anything that gets in the way of our route forward?” He frowns again. “She’s my route forward, Quinn. Call her or give me my fucking phone.”
He backs off after that, me hovering on the side of this damn bed unable to move, and him scowling back at me as he crosses to a chair. He chuckles after a few minutes as if something is funny. As far as I can tell not one goddamn thing is funny.
“You should have seen yourself in there, Nate,” he says, his head tilting at me. “You made big brother proud.”
“Fuck you.”
There’s nothing to be proud of about what happened in that warehouse, certainly not me. The only thing of any relevance is that Gabby got out alive—us, too, if that has any merit. “You called Frankie and Jon’s families yet?” He scowls and looks towards the window. “Didn’t think so.”
“They’ll be compensated.”
Compensated? What a fucking thought. How do you compensate someone for the loss of a life? I look down at my bare legs, the bandage wrapped around my thigh proving my fault in this. It’s all my fault. I can’t even blame Quinn this time, have his conscience take the damn toll. I organised this, not him.
I sigh and look at the floor, not knowing what to say in the aftermath short of fuck you and thank you for backing me up when my plan didn’t work. Stupid Yakuza honour. Why the hell the woman didn’t just give me Gabby and take her money back I don’t know. “I’ve always hated what you do. You know that, right?”
He nods slowly, giving me nothing more than that.
“The violence of it—you never hid it from us. I’ve resented that my whole damn life. You drew me in, Quinn.” He smiles slightly. I don’t know what at. Perhaps it’s that he never really drew me in to anything and he knows it, no matter how I want to blame him. I was young, ready to give it all for Cane and follow his lead. I tried the moral high ground, tried to leave the violence to him, but I saw it all the damn time, was part of it, short of the killing. “I just wanted us to be a success.” My feet give the floor another go. “I didn’t want any of this shit.”
There’s silence for a minute or so, old feelings haunting the air between u
s as I look at him. He doesn’t back down or speak. He can’t, can he? Wouldn’t even if he could. I don’t even know what I’m expecting him to say in return. We’d probably be dead if it weren’t for him—either from what’s just happened or past encounters he protected us from. I hate that, though, hate what it’s turned him into. He was a cool big brother a long time ago, a decent one.
Still is, I guess. In his own way.
“And now?” he asks, his lips tipping up into a smirk.
“I still fucking hate it.”
“Of course, you do.” He stands and walks across to me, scooping his dice from the bed and sliding them into his pocket. “But you don’t get to be a Cane without getting your hands dirty, Nate.” He turns and grabs a wheelchair, pushing it in front of me before wrapping an arm around my back to help me to it. “Thought you knew that.” He shuffles me sideways, finally letting go as I land in the chair. “Our world will never be free of what we are, whether you like that fucking thought or not.”
He pushes me from the room without another word on the matter, and regardless of the fact I want a goddamn argument about it, I’ve got nothing to argue with. He’s right, probably always damn well has been. We might have manoeuvred our way out a little, stayed clean, but this shit is gonna follow us our whole lives, isn’t it? Maybe the next generation can have some peace, but not us. We’re still living it, morals or not.
“I’m not doing it again, Quinn,” I snap out as he opens the main door and rolls me into a corridor. It’s all clinical and streamlined, nothing like the luxury we’ve just been in. “I just want out. I want what I had in Bora again. And I want Gabby. Where the hell is she?” He chuckles and keeps me rolling, heading towards an elevator.
“You don’t get to get out, brother,” he says, pushing me in and hitting the buttons. The lift descends as I glare the reasoning away, doors finally pinging open to give me some fucking air. “Especially since you just stole a hundred and twenty-five mil from them.”
“Where is she?” That’s all I damn well care about.
“Tenacious much?”
“You’re damn right. What have you done with her?” He carries on pushing me through a large foyer without another word. If I could get out of this fucking chair I would because I am seeing Gabby again. I’m not doing what I’ve done and then not getting the reason I did it all back in my arms. “She’s been fucking raped, Quinn. What the fuck have you done with her?”
“Alright. Calm down. What makes you think I could do anything with a mouthy bitch like that anyway?” He spills his retort as he rolls me around a corner. A small courtyard of gardens comes into view through a wall of glass beside me, greenery replacing the tepid clinical outlook of the corridors around us. “She’s worse than Emily.”
“You said you’d made her go?”
“Tried,” he huffs, reversing me as he pushes on some doors with his back. I look over my shoulder at him. “Fucking woman.” He drops a blanket on my knee as he turns me into the fresh air and smirks. “You’re welcome to her snide little ass.”
More mutters come from his mouth as he rolls me forward along a path. I don’t know what about. I’m too busy searching the garden for the woman I’ve done everything for and smiling at whatever her mouth must have delivered to the great Quinn Cane.
“They’re not worth it, you know?” he mumbles.
Yes, they are, and he wouldn’t be half the man he is without Emily calming him down lately, regardless of the man he was in that warehouse.
“You don’t mean that anymore,” I reply, smiling weakly at the thought. “We should double date or some shit.”
“Fuck that.”
It makes me laugh a little as he stops the wheelchair and parks himself on a bench, hauling me backwards towards the side of him. He chuckles and looks me over, nodding at himself about something and then frowns with a sigh.
“You know we’ve got to deal with Yakuza, right?”
I turn to look back out at the garden, infuriated with the thought of more death and carnage, but knowing he’s right. I just stole a hundred and twenty-five mil from them. That shit isn’t going away anytime soon.
“Yeah, I know,” I eventually reply.
“I’ve been keeping them at bay for months now. Trying to keep us away from what’s coming.” My eyes widen, head swinging back to him.
“What?”
He sighs.
“I thought you were just irritated with them, not that we had real fucking problems.”
He chuckles, as if he knows something I don’t. “It’s why I was so wound up before you left. They’ve been getting too close, threatening us.” He looks contrite, for him, and gets his goddamn dice out again to spin them a little. “I couldn’t keep them off our territory. They’re after all the ports, our access in Chicago included.”
“You know that bitch?” He nods. “What the fuck, Quinn?”
“Business, Nate.” He says it like it should mean something to me. I stare at him, noting the concern in his eyes again. “I just wanted you away from it, so I could negotiate without you being involved, try to get us clear of the shit that was coming again.” My eyes narrow. No wonder he was all over the place. “Our new generation was fucked the moment they started pushing for more control over Chicago.” He sighs. “I won’t let them have it, Nate. I can’t. We haven’t built this strength to be taken over by Yakuza scum.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“Didn’t want you involved. Nothing you could have done would have made a difference. Turf war was what was needed.” He sighs again and looks into the garden. “It meant, still fucking means, returning to old school ways. Not something you would have condoned then or now.” I’m silent as he speaks, knowing it’s true, regardless of all that’s just happened. “Had to get you gone for a bit, make you think you weren’t wanted. You ever tried hiding something from you? You’re like a fucking freight train when you keep coming at me asking for a straighter route through.” He’s damn right I am. It’s what’s kept us so powerful all these years. Team work. Whether he likes that fact or not. “Guess you’ve given them that now anyway. War.”
Guess I have.
“Didn’t give you any goddamn right to punch me,” I snap, moving my blanket around in disgust.
“No.”
“That was out of order, Quinn. Not fucking acceptable.”
“I know.”
“Anything more than one fucking word answers?”
“No.” Asshole.
“Another apology would help.”
“I did what I thought was best, brother,” he says, leaning back onto the bench. “Who the fuck knew you’d find your diamond thief to get you into the middle of it anyway.” At least the beating makes a little more fucking sense now, but really?
“You could have just talked to me.”
“What, and have you try to calm me down? You’ve seen them in action now, Nate. They do not give one fuck about doing anything without violence. There is no honour. That shit is only the beginning, no matter how much you want out. They’ve got Miami if what they said about Andreas is true, and now they’ll want us gone. Me, gone. Dead preferably.” He chuckles. “You too now you’ve stolen all that fucking money. Why haven’t you done that for us before by the way?” My head shakes, some clarity coming back now I’m starting to see his points. “At least you’ve warmed them up for me, readied the goddamn storm that’s coming.”
“So, you’ve known all along?”
“About Yakuza, yes. But not what they were really after, not until you came back and mentioned Andreas. That led me along the paths back to the ports, then Marco and the diamonds, and then, eventually, Yakuza again.” He stands and walks in front of me, dice spinning. “That’s why I was so pissed when you went to Antwerp. I’d only just worked it out and you decided to go off on your own?” I’m fucking gobsmacked. And annoyed. And more than ready to get out of this goddamn chair and—“That was fucking stupid of you.” I have
to concede to that to some extent. “I was too late to get to you before they got to her.”
Nothing else is said as he lets me organise the information in my own mind. What a fucked-up web. And all because we didn’t work together. I’m not even sure I’ve got anything to say in response anyway.
“You can go play happy families for a while if you want, but they’ll be back, Nate. You know that now, and you need to protect yourself. We all do.” I nod at that and tilt my head back, eyes rising up the expanse of glass that climbs into the sky. “Emily’s on her way. I suggest you organise your head and find somewhere to lie low. I’ll start this ball rolling again.” Lie low? A fucking beach sounds like my idea of lying low. “First stop is someone you’re not gonna like.” I roll my eyes at the multitude of acquaintances he has that I don’t like. It could be anyone.
“Where?”
“New York.” My snarl tells him everything he needs to know about that response, not that he gives a damn. He’ll do what’s best for us, and whether I agree or not, at this point, he’s probably right. This is his turf again now. War.
“And have a team with you this time, brother. You don’t need me anymore but get your game head on. You make your own call and let me know where you are.”
He stands after that and looks up into the sky with me, one hand resting on my shoulder. It squeezes gently for a few seconds and then lets go, his body turning with the movement. Nothing else is said between us; nothing needs saying, and I watch as he pockets his hands and wanders back off through the garden, not an injury on him from our battle with Yakuza. Quinn Cane. My brother. Finally letting me go.
He doesn’t need to. I’m standing right where I always am—at his side.
“Hang on, where the hell is Gabby?” He points up to the second floor, over to the left of where I was looking, and walks back into the building without any other conversation.
She’s there behind a window, blurred at this distance, both hands planted on the pane of glass separating us. I smile and pull in a long breath, instantly happier for seeing her again. Not that I wasn’t happy, but she brings a sense of joy with her that no other person holds for me. It’s deep inside now, rooted, and as I watch her walk along the corridor, eyes still fixed on mine, the thoughts of death and Cane life disperse for a while, just like they always do.
Devious Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 2) Page 27
