by W Winters
“I just don’t want them to have her.”
A withering, sad smirk tugs at Daniel’s lips, making him look even more miserable. “Our women.” He repeats my words and the tension tightens around my chest. “Is there a difference with what’s between Addison and me, and Aria and you?” he asks me in a voice laced with accusations.
“I love Addison,” he tells me before I can answer, his breathing quickening as he struggles to hide the pain of watching her leave him.
He looks at the floor for only a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets before looking up at me and asking me outright, “Do you still love her?”
A beat passes, but only one. A single beat inside my chest and I know the answer. I breathe the word at the same time as the door opens and one of my men enters.
“Boss,” Jett calls out my title while knocking on the open door.
“Do you have an update?” I ask him with an eyebrow cocked, looking at his knuckles on the door and wondering why he fucking bothered to knock.
Nodding his head and straightening his shoulders, Jett answers me without hesitation. Daniel’s restless, leaning against the window then kicking off of it as he listens to the soldier. Jett’s one of Eli’s men. Eli’s a lieutenant, the rank given to the men we trust implicitly to lead other men in our crime family. And Jett’s the soldier he left behind to see that everything fell into place with him gone.
The four of us, my brothers and I, we each have two lieutenants and the area we claim is split four ways. It keeps things clean and organized. All of the men who work for us call me boss though. I’m the one and only boss.
Yet this motherfucker listened to Jase. Jase gave an order that directly countered mine, which should have been absolute, and this asshole listened to him.
A tic in my jaw starts to spasm as I remember, feeling the heat and anger of what happened only hours ago stir hate into my blood once again.
I can see the moment Jett realizes I’m not over that little stunt. His pupils dilate, and he stutters over a word before talking faster. That’s what happens when you’re fucking scared.
I have to remind myself that they didn’t know. Jase is the one and the only person responsible.
“Eli and Cason are in the first car, and there are three decoy cars even though there’s no trace of anyone watching or following.” He swallows, and I can hear the dry gulp of his throat as I imagine tearing it out.
Jase defied me.
They followed his orders and didn’t know of mine.
I remind myself of that fact, bending down to snatch another book off the floor and rein in the rage. Someone needs to have the piss beat out of them for what happened.
Slamming the book on the shelf, I see Jase’s face. He let them go. Everyone will know that she put a gun to my head because of him.
“Would you like me to help— “
“No,” I cut him off in a single, low breath, devoid of any emotion.
“Does ‘anyone’ include Romano’s men?” Daniel questions and I watch for Jett’s reaction, setting another book on the shelf. “Or better yet, who knows where Aria and Addison are going and that they’ve left the premises? Name every single man.”
“Eli and Cason’s men, the ten of us,” Jett’s quick to answer him and then stands silently at attention again. His gaze darts between the two of us, waiting for any other question or orders. The way he stands is firm and upright, same as Eli. But there’s a nervousness about him that I don’t like.
“I want thirty men spread out on the blocks surrounding Sebastian’s place on Fifth,” Daniel tells Jett, although I know he’s talking to me. “The Red Room is on the northern side, so that street is already handled, but the other three sides of our territory are lighter on men and closer to Talvery than I like.”
“We need fifty,” I correct him. The east and south sides need to have a second row. If Talvery’s going to come for them, if my enemies find out where Addison and Aria are, I want more men.
“We can do fifty easy,” Cason answers as if it was a question and not a demand. He continues, “We just need to pull back on the lower east side, closest to Crescent Hills.” Jett licks his bottom lip as he looks past me, using his fingers to tally up men absently.
I take a moment to really consider him as he tells me that “place” is always causing problems, but if we back off the problems take care of themselves anyway. As in the people we tend to have to control in Crescent Hills, simply kill the people that cause them issues if we don’t step in.
I know that he’s right because it’s where I’m from and that’s how it was when I grew up, but it pisses me off. The idea that we can move out of areas we’ve only just begun to take over and let them kill each other off because it’s not worth it… it hits me in a way that it shouldn’t.
Only because it’s a place I used to call home. I know that’s why, but it doesn’t help control the rage that boils inside of me.
“Fifty then,” Daniel answers and crosses his arms. From here I can feel him looking at me, but I’m still focused on Jett as he rambles on about which men can go where. I’m going to start calling him Mr. Calculus if he doesn’t shut the fuck up soon. My jaw is clenched so tightly I think my molars will crack from the pressure.
I could see me taking out my displeasure on Jett. I can already feel how his jaw would crack under my fist. It would take more than one punch without my brass knuckles.
“Carter,” Daniel says, and it breaks the vision of me beating the piss out of this entitled fuck. An asshole who didn’t grow up the way I did and doesn’t give a fuck about anyone in that city.
“What?” I don’t hide the irritation as the word comes deep from my chest.
“Put the poor book down,” he tells me, glancing at the book I’m practically ripping apart in my hand. Slamming it into its place on the shelf, I run my hand down my face and then brace my hands against the carved wood details of the bookshelf. I stare at the empty place still waiting for the books to be replaced.
“Ever the fucking comedian,” I mutter under my breath, trying to relax and shrug off the need to let all my rage out.
“Keep a watch on the two of them and tell us if they want to leave,” Daniel gives Jett his orders, but what the dumb fuck says next pushes me over the edge.
“What if Aria wants to go home?” Jett asks, concern evident in his gaze.
“What’s that?” I can feel my own gaze narrow in on him as I push off of the bookshelf. The room feels hotter, smaller, and adrenaline races through my blood.
The soldier doesn’t pick up on my anger. He doesn’t get that what he’s suggesting is going to get his head bashed against the fucking wall.
“Get out,” Daniel speaks up as I take two steps toward my prey.
Jett goes still at Daniel’s command, looking back at him as if wondering if he heard right. “She’s not going anywhere,” Daniel tells him as he stalks forward, pushing his hand against my chest for the second time tonight. The harder, darker side of his soul shows as he grabs Jett by his throat and pushes him against the wall. So hard I hear a crack, although I’m not sure what it was that made the sickening sound.
Jett’s body sags in Daniel’s grasp.
“Both women will be there temporarily.” Although they’re of similar height, it feels as if Daniel’s towering over Jett as he nods and quickly agrees with Daniel, staring him in the eyes and making sure his voice is clear.
“Of course. They’re there temporarily. I know that.”
“Make sure you don’t forget that.” Daniel’s parting words are sneered as he releases Jett and the man struggles to steady his feet. “Get out of here.” Watching him yell in Jett’s face eases some of the tension. Only some of it.
Jett doesn’t pause or wait for anything else from either of us. He must have some sense in him after all.
“I wanted to bash his head in,” I tell Daniel as the sound of that fucker racing down the hall to get away dims.
“I know,�
�� Daniel says with his back still to me as he rolls up his sleeves. “That’s why I had to do it.”
The ticking of the clock marches steadily between his last words and his next. “With the war coming, we need all the men we can get.”
Chapter 60
Aria
When I heard Eli say we were going to a safe house, this wasn’t what I was expecting.
It’s on the far end of the city, away from the hustle and bustle, in a quieter area and close to Main Street with a few shops within walking distance. There are a few quaint houses that line the street, but nearly a quarter mile separates each of them on this street.
This isn’t like the safe house my father has. This house is in plain sight, but it’s built for war if only you look closely enough at the exterior.
The three-story building is made of stone, with a concrete fence around the property, covered in beautiful ivy. The front door is all steel but beautifully etched with what looks like a Celtic pattern. I only got a brief glimpse before I was led here to the second floor, and each floor seems to be self-contained, so multiple families could live here and never even see each other. I’m in absolute awe, although it doesn’t take the pain away in the least.
The kitchen is open to the living room. The center of the room is focused around a stone fireplace with a darkly stained, reclaimed wood mantel. Its ruggedness matches the iron and spicewood chandelier. But it’s at odds with the clean sleekness of the all-white kitchen, just behind us.
We’re stuck here, with a large L-shaped chenille sofa and matching armchairs that hug the fireplace until the guards say otherwise.
“Only a few minutes,” is what Cason said. But more than a few have already passed as we linger in the beautiful gilded cage.
I’m biting my tongue though; I don’t dare say a word to Addison as I pace behind the sofa. Addison’s still pissed, but it seems fake to me. Like she’s just trying to be angry at being locked up here rather than being brokenhearted over what happened.
She’s been staring for the last ten minutes at the clothes she dumped on the sofa, trying not to cry. I can’t stand seeing her on edge like this.
I’m an asshole, but I’ll admit I’m grateful to be distracted by her. If I was alone, I’d be huddled in a ball crying on the floor.
“This is bullshit,” she grits out the words, still staring at the clothes. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I was leaving!” she screams to no one.
“He said it would only be a week or so, right?” I ask her carefully, trying to calm her down just the slightest.
She nods and visibly swallows before rolling her eyes, seemingly remembering that she’s annoyed with being held here rather than given free will to leave.
“For our protection.” Addison picks up a dress and balls it in her hands before throwing it back down on the sofa. Pushing her hair out of her face, she leans her head back and takes a deep breath. She does that a lot, the leaning her head back and deep breaths. I’ve seen her do it a few times when she gets worked up.
“Is that like a meditation practice or something?” I ask her, wanting to change the topic if I can, to something… less devastating. I’m exhausted from crying, but tired of being exhausted from crying. I don’t want to hurt right now; I need a distraction for just a moment. Just a moment to breathe before I face my reality again.
She nods her head, barely moving from the position and takes a moment before telling me, “It’s a yoga thing, really, I don’t know that I can meditate.” She reaches for the duffle bag on the floor and picks up the clothes on the sofa, one piece at a time, to toss them back in. “My mind is always wandering, and I have to get up and do something.”
I nearly smile, happy that she’s talking to me about something else. It was silent in the car ride here and the tension has been suffocating me.
“Yeah, I get that,” I answer her. “I tried meditation a while ago and it was not my cuppa.”
“Cuppa?” she questions with her brow furrowed, and I stifle a small smile at her curious expression.
“Cup of tea.” I shrug and add, “It wasn’t my cup of tea.” Staring at my own duffle bag on the armchair, I add casually, even as I feel the weight of my heart seem to grow and sink into my stomach, “I like tarot cards better.”
“Oh!” The excitement in Addison’s voice is not at all what I was expecting. Maybe she’s better at pretending life is all right when it’s in shambles than I am. “And like palm readings?”
I have to smile at her enthusiasm.
She keeps talking as she finishes gathering the clothes. “I went to see a gypsy in New Orleans once.” She peeks over at me as I walk closer, taking a seat on the far end of the sofa. I have to, so I can hear her over the sound of the guards still walking through the safe house to make sure everything is in place. As in, cameras. I know those fuckers are putting up cameras.
I have to keep my mouth closed, my teeth grinding against one another at the thought, and keep the anger from showing as she tells me her story of the woman she met by Café du Monde. I swallow thickly as she tells me about New Orleans, a place I’ve never been.
She’s still feigning an upbeat attitude and I’m trying to keep up. I wonder if she can pretend like this when she lies down. When there are no distractions and sleep evades her. Just the thought of what my mind will do to me tonight, makes me grab the throw blanket on the sofa and wrap it around me as if it could protect me.
“I wanted to get my coffee grounds read and all that too, but I didn’t have time.”
“Seven kids?” My brows haven’t moved from their raised position since she casually mentioned that little fact the palm reader told her. “She said you’re going to have seven kids?”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said about the reading as I stared off absently, pretending to listen but really thinking about tonight and how I know I’ll cry again. I feel helpless, hopeless, and pathetic.
Addison’s expression pales and she purses her lips before she carefully says, “Pregnancies.” She doesn’t hide the pain in her eyes when she clarifies. “She said seven pregnancies. She also said they wouldn’t keep.”
Fuck. I can’t even look her in the eyes as I struggle to tell her I’m sorry. She only shrugs it off before pulling up on her bag to close it.
The sound of her zipping up the bag is accompanied by the sound of Eli walking back into the room. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, the tattoos on his arm are on full display. They’re all in black and white with lots of detail. A compass that fades up his left arm catches my attention, but the tone of his voice brings my gaze up to his.
“The rooms are ready. We’ll be downstairs at all times.” Eli’s blunt and has a hint of some accent. Irish or British maybe, I can’t tell. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
“I don’t want to stay here,” Addison tells him again. Her shoulders rise and fall quickly as her breathing quickens. “I’m not with Daniel anymore.” Her voice cracks, but she continues, “And I don’t need a safe house. I need to leave.”
Eli’s expression is unmoving. I almost question if he’s heard her as the silence stretches between them. The only sounds are from the other men behind Eli in the hall as they walk downstairs to their section of the safe house. “I understand.” Eli’s initial response takes Addison by surprise. She even flinches slightly, but then he adds, “There are some precautions that need to be taken first. But in one week, give or take, we will take you to wherever you want to go, and leave you alone.”
Alone.
I hate that word.
“So, we’re supposed to stay locked up in this fucking house?” Addison’s anger rises as she asks the question, each word getting louder than the last. I watch as her blunt nails dig into her palms as she fails to rein in her anger.
“Main Street has several shops and a few restaurants. We have no objections to you walking the block… however, someone will be with you at all times.”
My mind has been reeling all
night with everything that’s happened. I’ve been here for nearly two hours, and I’m only just now realizing why we have to stay here under house arrest with guards for one week. And then we can go free.
One week.
“He’s going to kill them.” With my gaze fixed on the sheer curtain, draped in the moonlight from outside the window, the crushing feeling in my chest returns. “One week until the war is over.”
Addison turns slowly to face me, and I sink back further into the sofa.
“I’m being held hostage until my family is dead.” My throat closes slowly like it’s suffocating me, and my eyes burn hotter as the pain diffuses through me.
I’ve lost Carter. I’ve lost the chance to influence him because I failed.
And now I’m trapped in this beautiful place while everyone I love is murdered. My vision is blurred as I picture the house I grew up in, the blood on the walls, bullet holes in the doors. Licking my lips, I taste my salty tears. “Eli, can you answer me a question?” I ask him with a short breath I’m barely able to hold on to.
The lightheadedness floods my mind as he nods his head, yes.
“Is there someone to clean up everything you leave behind?” I struggle to breathe as I look him in the eyes and continue, “Or when I ask to go home in a week, will I be the one who has to clean up the bodies of my family?” My voice shakes on the last word, but he hears me. I know he does.
I picture my cousin, Brett, and his wife and their baby. In a moment, they’re right where I last saw them during the holidays. And in a blink, they’re lying dead on the floor, their eyes staring back at me as if seeing me for who I really am.
And I hate what they see.
Some of my family may be cruel like Carter, but not all of them are and so many people will die. I know what to expect. I’ve seen it before. I can’t sit here and do nothing.
I refuse.
Eli stares back at me, assessing me and judging me, but I don’t care. As long as I can hold on to the strength of my mentality, I don’t care what he thinks. Knowing I can’t and won’t sit by and do nothing is all that matters.
