Unholy Intent

by Natasha Knight

  I take a deep breath in and get up to get dressed. I towel dry my hair, and walk into the living room to find Cash standing at the door, exactly where I expect him.

  The woman who made my breakfast the other day and my dinner the night before is in the kitchen washing dishes.

  After greeting her, I pick up my coat and walk right up to Cash. I’m not sure he’s going to let me go. Not sure if Damian has forbidden it or something after last night. But before I can say anything, he opens the front door.

  “Same café?” he asks.

  Confused, I nod but go along, not wanting to screw up my chance.

  Lucas isn’t there when we arrive, and I wonder if I’m too late or if he won’t show. I order a cappuccino, just picking it up, when I feel the cool breeze of the door opening. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. That same sensation—icy fingers along my spine—are enough to tell me.

  I take my coffee, thank the barista and turn to find Lucas’s eyes on me.

  He’s tall, as tall as Damian, and has a presence that, like Damian, makes people sit up and take notice.

  Or maybe that’s his face.

  In a strange way, there’s a part of me that feels sorry for him. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just because of what happened to him. What he has to live with. The people staring in the café is just one example.

  But I shake my head because I need to remind myself that he’s ugly on the inside, too. It’d be outright stupid to let myself forget that.

  He shifts his gaze to Cash, and I do too, expecting interference. But the two just nod to each other. Lucas opens the door and gestures for me to exit.

  I look at the waiting car with the black tinted windows.

  I look back at Lucas.

  My heart hammers as I walk toward him. I hope I give the impression of being a little more confident than I feel.

  “You said you’d meet me here. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Cristina. I’m taking a risk too.”

  “Why can’t we just talk here?”

  “Because I’m not alone.”

  He turns to the car. I follow his gaze to the passenger side window. It slides halfway down and sitting inside is, of all people, my uncle.

  21

  Damian

  “Is everything ready?”

  “Just waiting on your call.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  I climb into the SUV and we head to the restaurant where I’ll meet Arthur Clementi at his request. The old man claims to have information for me. If it’s what I think it is, he will have bought leniency for his sons. I wonder if my dad would do for me what he’s doing for his boys.

  No, no need to wonder.

  I know that answer.

  The restaurant is about an hour out of town. Only three other cars occupy spaces in the parking lot. It’s closed this time of day and when I walk inside, I find the dining room empty but for the table in the back where Arthur is seated. At a quick count, I see he has the agreed upon number of men who are standing not so discreetly around the room.

  He’s scared.

  That’s good.

  Tobias and his men fan out and Clementi stands.

  “Arthur,” I say in greeting once I reach the table. He’s aged since I last saw him and now looks every bit his seventy-five years.

  “Damian.”

  He extends his hand. This is good. I take it, gripping it firmly.

  “Thank you for coming,” he says.

  “The men who set the fire are dead,” I tell him. He turned them over himself. Men who worked for his sons. A gesture of goodwill, or so he called it.

  “Short life spans in our business,” he says casually.

  “Not for all of us, I hope.” I wonder if the soldiers working for him know how easily they will be sacrificed if it comes to that.

  “Listen, Damian, my boys—”

  “Are not boys but men.”

  “They made a mistake. I—”

  “I assume I’m here because you have information you believe I’ll want?”

  I had a gut feeling about the contents of that container not belonging to the Clementi family. I’d been right. Arthur has left the running of the business to his sons for just over a year now. They’ve managed to fuck it up royally.

  Of course, that’s my opinion, but I can tell you after this, they’ll be out of business. In fact, they’ll be lucky to walk away at all. Well, hobble away.

  In this case, his sons had made the arrangements without their father’s knowledge. When things went south, they asked him to lie and told him it was life or death. And it will be if the information Arthur gathered doesn’t line up with what I’m thinking. Just not old man Clementi’s life. I’ll take one of his boys. They can decide which one between them.

  I remember Lucas suggesting the same thing just a few days ago, but if Clementi confirms my suspicion then I have bigger fish to fry.

  Clementi raises a finger, and one of the men—I guess his attorney because he’s definitely not the muscle—steps forward and produces a folder.

  “Thank you,” Clementi says, and the man steps away. He passes the folder to me, and I open it.

  “Cash trail. Your enemy is much closer to home than me or my family, Damian. My sons were used.”

  “Your sons let themselves be used,” I say as I leaf through the pages. I’ve known about my enemies being close to home for a long time. This just confirms it. “I appreciate you being up front with me, Arthur.” I close the folder and stand.

  He reaches out to place his age-spotted hand over mine. “I gave you the information. I condemn what they did. Let me punish them. My sons—”

  “I will punish your sons, but their lives will be spared. I gave you my word and you know I’m good for it.”

  I hope he won’t stoop to begging. My answer won’t change, and he’ll only humiliate himself.

  He nods his head. “I trust your word. Thank you, Damian.”

  I gesture to Tobias. A moment later, I’m back in the SUV.

  “Where’s my brother?”

  22

  Cristina

  I meet my uncle’s eyes as soon as I’m on the sidewalk. “Uncle Adam?”

  “We should get off the street before anyone sees us together. Get in the car. It’s safe,” my uncle says.

  I turn from him to Lucas and back. “With him?”

  He nods.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Please, Cristina. We don’t have much time.”

  Lucas opens the back door and after a moment’s hesitation, I climb in. Although I’m not sure it is safe because I’m not sure I trust my uncle. But I need to hear what Lucas has to say.

  As soon as he closes the door, I lean toward the front seat. “What’s going on? Why are you here with him?”

  “We’ll talk soon,” he says, half-turning his head, the look on his face worried. I notice he has a few more grays around his temples and the line between his eyebrows seems to have deepened.

  I watch Lucas walk around the car to the driver’s side door. Cars honk their horns at us. Lucas is double parked, blocking traffic and from the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. He gives the man in the car behind us the finger, then climbs into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and pulls away from the curb.

  I look over my shoulder into the café. “Is Cash going to follow us?” I can still see my bodyguard sitting in the same place, sipping his cup of coffee.

  “No, why? Is that going to be a problem? If you need a babysitter, we have your uncle. He’s a real joy to be around.”

  “Well, he’s supposed to stay with me. Damian said—”

  “I doubt Damian knows you called me so I wouldn’t worry about what he has to say.”

  “So, he’s just going to let you take me?”

  He glances back at me. “Don’t be dramatic. I didn’t exactly take you. You walked out of that café and into my car of your own
free will.”

  “Won’t Damian find out?”

  “You weren’t going to tell him? You seem to tell him everything else.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  I look out onto busy Manhattan traffic. “Where are we going?”

  “Your uncle’s place.”

  I’m surprised, but I guess it makes sense. No one to see us or overhear us there. Liam will still be in school and there’s no one but the maid.

  It’s a twenty-minute ride, Lucas parks his car in the garage beneath the building, and he and my uncle both climb out when we get there. I can hear how hard my heart is racing when I’m alone in the car. My hands, still clasped around my coffee cup, feel clammy as I unclasp them when Lucas opens my door.

  “Are you coming?”

  I put my untouched coffee in the cup holder and undo my seat belt to climb out, ignoring his proffered hand. My purse is strapped across my body. Touching the small bag, I remember I have protection if I need it.

  I glance at my uncle before following Lucas to the elevator. We ride in silence. Lucas is the only casual one among us. He’s humming a tune and scrolling through his phone like he hasn’t a care in the world.

  When the elevator doors slide open on arrival, my uncle steps out ahead of us. Lucas gestures for me to go ahead of him, but we remain standing there for a moment as we study one another. I’m still awed by how similar he and Damian look but also how starkly different. The look in Lucas’s darker eyes is one of those differences. It’s harder. But also, more defensive or secretive as though he’s protecting something. Like he’s protecting himself.

  I walk off the elevator and through the open front door of the apartment. It’s familiar and foreign at once and I feel like a stranger. Like I don’t belong here. Or maybe it’s that I’m not quite welcome here. Was I ever truly welcome?

  I turn to my uncle who looks so uncomfortable it’s almost painful to watch him.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Lucas asks me, crossing the room to the bar as though he owns the place.

  “I’m fine. What’s going on? Uncle Adam, why are you with him?”

  Lucas pours himself and my uncle a whiskey. “Sit,” he tells me.

  It feels strange to be invited to sit in what was once my home, but when my uncle doesn’t intervene, I take a seat, resting my hands on the purse in my lap.

  My uncle remains anxiously standing against the far wall, not answering my question. Not even looking at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking or where his head is. All I know is he looks about twenty years older than last time I saw him.

  Once Lucas sets the bottle back on the bar, he turns to face me, expression curious.

  “Isn’t it early for that?” I gesture to their drinks.

  Lucas shrugs a shoulder and sips. “Life is short. Carpe diem and all that shit.”

  “Why are we here? Why is my uncle here?”

  “It’s his house.”

  “Don’t be a jerk. I called you because you promised to tell me the truth. Are you two working together against Damian or something?”

  “We’re doing what’s best for you,” my uncle says.

  “All of you seem to think you’re doing everything for my benefit, but I get the feeling none of you actually are.”

  Lucas glances at my uncle, then sits on the chair closest to mine, facing me. “Ask me your questions.”

  “You’ll answer me truthfully?”

  “I will answer the ones I’m able to truthfully.”

  “Why is my uncle here?”

  “Because he’s concerned for your safety,” he says flippantly.

  “Dick,” my uncle mutters, then turns to me. “Damian did something that puts the foundation at risk. That puts you at risk.”

  I don’t miss that he mentions the foundation before he mentions me.

  “What did he do?”

  “We’ll get to that,” Lucas answers after my uncle shifts his gaze to him almost in deference.

  My uncle turns to refill his glass. I watch his back, then shift my gaze back to Lucas. Okay. We’ll get to it. I won’t leave until I know.

  “What happened to Annabel? The accident, I mean,” I ask.

  Lucas surveys me over his drink as though he’s surprised that’s what I ask. “She and Damian were playing in the solarium. She fell from the gangway and sadly lost the use of her legs after that fall.”

  I knew that from what Liam told me. It must have been awful for her. “I heard you say something yesterday. In Damian’s study.”

  “I said many things. Which in particular are you curious about?”

  “Something about accidents. A lot of them happening around Damian.”

  “I don’t think he pushed her, if that’s what you’re getting at. He loved Annabel. But I know he felt guilty afterward. And I know our father blamed him for allowing it to happen. Blamed him for a lot of things.” He sips his drink, looking over my shoulder. “That wasn’t quite fair,” he adds on, surprising me.

  “Then why did you say that yesterday? About a lot of accidents happening around him?”

  “Did you have your ear to the door?”

  “You were loud.”

  “I was fucking with him. That’s all, Cristina. And you should be asking different questions. Questions like what’s going to happen to you after your year is up.”

  I feel the blood drain from my face.

  “Christ,” my uncle mutters. His face is a little flushed, the bulbous tip of his nose red like the last time. I wonder how much he’s already drunk today.

  Lucas stands to grab the bottle of whiskey and another tumbler. He pours a glass and hands it to me before resuming his seat.

  “Don’t worry, my brother won’t go through with it.”

  I sip, shifting my gaze back to his once I’ve swallowed a good mouthful of the burning stuff. Courage. I need to be strong.

  “With killing me?” I say, my voice higher than usual.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what you intended? All these years?” It’s surreal.

  “Not me. My family. Well, my father to be more precise.”

  “Why? What would it do? I was a little girl when that accident happened. What would it do?”

  He shrugs a shoulder so casually it pisses me off.

  “It wouldn’t bring her back, would it? It won’t bring any of them back.” I feel sick. It’s a combination of being back in this house, Lucas and my uncle seemingly in cahoots, this conversation. Hell, it’s this whole situation.

  “We don’t need to keep talking about it. You’re obviously uncomfortable.”

  “How would anyone be comfortable with this topic? My God, are you even human, Lucas?”

  “He won’t do it. That’s all. He has other plans.”

  That makes me stop. “What other plans?”

  My uncle drinks.

  Lucas just studies me.

  “What other plans?” I push.

  Nothing.

  I exhale loudly and weave my fingers into my hair.

  “I like it short by the way,” he says.

  I get to my feet, exasperated. When I turn to him, he leans back in his seat and puts his feet up on the coffee table as he sips his whiskey.

  “You’re pretty. My brother got lucky there, too.”

  “Are you for real? Is this a fucking joke to you? Is my life a joke?”

  “I was just giving you a compliment. Relax.”

  “Relax? When you’re spinning stories and confusing me even more than I already am?”

  “I’m not spinning stories. That’s my brother’s area.”

  “This was a mistake.” I walk to the door.

  “Sit,” he commands, his tone darker. Not joking.

  I give him the finger and keep walking, unzipping my purse as I go and hurrying my step when I hear him get to his feet. I reach inside to take out the switchblade and push the button to open it just as he catches my arm.


  “Get your hand off me!”

  “Cristina!” My uncle’s eyes grow wide.

  Lucas looks down at the knife, cocking his head to the side. “Careful with that, sweetheart. It’s sharp. I know. I made it.” He sounds casual. Like me pulling a knife on him is nothing. “Now put that away before you hurt yourself and sit down.”

  “I said, let me go.” He doesn’t. I keep the blade pointed at him. “I agreed to get in that car with you because you promised to give me answers. Honest ones. You’re jerking me around, and I don’t like it. We’re finished. This is a waste of time. You want to fuck with me just like your brother does. I don’t know why I thought you’d actually tell me anything. And you.” I turn to my uncle. “I don’t know what you’re doing with him. I’m not even sure I want to know!”

  “I’m trying to save you,” he says. “Put that away, Cristina.”

  “You’re trying to save me? Or are you trying to save yourself? Tell me something, did you only take me in because they paid you to?”

  “You’re my brother’s daughter. Of course not.”

  “But it didn’t hurt that you got a better-than-new apartment and money and whatever else they gave you. And you made sure not to break any of their rules. Is that why I wasn’t allowed to date? Or to even hang out with friends?”

  “The point is moot, isn’t it?” Lucas says.

  I turn from my uncle to Lucas. “Fuck you. I’m done.” I tug to get free, but he tightens his grip.

  “Cristina,” he says, voice so low it’s more a rumble.

  “Let. Go.”

  “Poor little rich girl. You finished feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Before I can even open my mouth to reply, he spins me around, locking my arms painfully behind my back. All it takes is a twist of his hand to have me crying out in pain as the knife falls to the Persian rug beneath my feet.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re going to break her arm! Let her go!”

  My uncle’s warning comes a beat too late as he’s still across the room. Why isn’t he hauling Lucas off me?

  Lucas ignores him, leans his face so close to mine that I feel the scruff on his jaw against my cheek. “We’re finished when I say we’re finished. You summoned me. I came. Now, you do as you’re told, and you sit your ass down.” He releases me so abruptly that I stumble forward, almost falling.