Foolish Games: Cartwright Brothers, book 3

by Lilliana Anderson

  “What kind of heavy stuff are you talkin’?” Outwardly, she seemed concerned for me, but there was too much interest sparkling in her eyes. I needed to shut this conversation down. I’d already said too much, and I wasn’t a snitch.

  “I honestly don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  “But you know something, right? That’s why you’re taking off.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I don’t know anything.”

  Fuck. I was trying to warn her away, not get her more interested.

  “Come on, Ronnie. These guys need to be taught a lesson. They can’t just throw their weight around without consequence. They have your car. You can’t do nothing. It’s about respect. When you and Johno took theirs, they retaliated in a big way. We need to do the same, but bigger.”

  “Need I remind you of the state Johno was in after they retaliated? And then, that Johno basically tucked his tail between his legs and ran away in fear? It’s the entire reason we broke up.”

  “Johno is weak. I hear he’s doing time now. Armed robbery. Dickhead tried to hold up a 7-Eleven with a carving fork.”

  “I heard he’d gone in.”

  “And did you hear that Dazza is working with a new crew now? They have a way better set-up. Smarter. You should tell him all you know and they can hit ’em hard and give you a cut. A nice chunk of change to start fresh, love. You deserve that.”

  “What the fuck are you promising her, woman?” Dazza grunted as he shuffled into the kitchen, giving his balls a scratch.

  “She has info on those brothers you hate for fuckin’ with your business. Time for payback, I reckon.”

  His eyes lit up and he pulled out a chair. “What kind of information?”

  Looking between them, I smiled uncomfortably, feeling even more trapped than I’d felt in that house. “You know, I think it might be better if I spring for a hotel. I don’t want to be in your hair.” I pushed back against the chair, but Dazza’s hand clapped down over mine.

  “No, missy. You sit right there and tell old Dazza everything ya know.”

  Holy fucking pissflaps. What have I done?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Castle Grayskull

  “Let me go, Dazza. You’re barking up the wrong fucking tree.” I looked to Maree for assistance, but she just sat back and looked on expectantly. Bloody hell, why did I come here? Why did I vent to her? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  “It’s no big deal, love,” she said, pulling out a new cigarette. “Those guys are obviously rolling in it. All we’re asking is that they share the wealth a little as compensation. And maybe then they’ll understand that they can’t push us little guys around and get away with it. Justice needs to be served.”

  I jerked my arm back, trying to break free. “And I’m telling you that this is a terrible idea. I don’t know anything that can help you.”

  “See, Ronnie,” Dazza started, shaking his head. “You’ve always been a shit liar, so I don’t believe you. The stench of bullshit is stinking up the joint. I know you know something. And we’re gonna sit here until you tell us.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I yelled, wincing as he gripped my arm tighter.

  He lifted my forearm then banged my arm against the table, pain radiating far more than I expected. “You can fuckin’ talk, or I can force ya. But we aren’t leavin’ here until I have something to take to my crew.”

  “Mumma wants a Bali holiday,” Maree said, rubbing her hands together and reminding me that a score was always bigger than friendship.

  Fuck my life. Why did I tell Maree anything about what had happened? I should have kept my big mouth shut, slept on the couch, and left tomorrow morning. Now I was up shit creek without a paddle to my name, and I had no idea what I was going to fucking do.

  Lie.

  I could lie.

  Or…

  My eyes landed on the full ashtray. Thank God Maree was a chain-smoker. Grabbing it with my free hand, I flung the contents at Dazza’s face, coating it in the black ash as he sucked in his surprise. He looked like Castle Grayskull with his mouth wide open and his blackened tongue poking out. A gasping wheeze took the place of his breathing as he released his grip and went into crisis mode. Although his crisis mode involved spinning in a circle and making a lot of noise.

  “What the fuck, Ronnie?” Maree shrieked as she jumped up to help him. He was wailing and spinning so much that each time she tried to help him to the sink, he ended up turning in the wrong direction.

  “He shouldn’t have held me down. I told you both no,” I yelled in return, backing towards the door. “I swear to you, Maree, this ends here. If either of you go anywhere near those brothers, I’ll rain bloody hell down on you.”

  “What are you gonna do?” she spat. “You’re a jobless, homeless nobody.” God. People loved throwing that in my face today.

  “Use your fucking brain, Maree. I won’t have to do anything. All I have to do is give them your names. I’m sure they’ll have a great time fucking with you, and everyone else you’re in business with.” I picked up my bags and opened the door. “Have a nice fucking life and thanks for nothing,” I said, slamming the door behind me.

  As I walked down the driveway towards the street, a slow clap punctuated the air and pushed through my anger. I swung my gaze to the sound, finding Toby standing against his BMW sedan with a smile on his face.

  How the hell…

  “Nice work.” He opened the passenger door as I got closer. “Now get inside.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I told him, continuing to walk.

  “You don’t really have a choice, Ronnie. You can fight me or cooperate with me, but you don’t get to walk away.”

  Stopping, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I really was trapped between a rock and a hard place. “How the hell did you know where I was?”

  “There’s a tracking app on your phone. I can see where you are, listen to what you’re saying, and who you’re talking to. It’s a brilliant tool.”

  “For a stalker.” Fuck. When would I catch a break?

  Looking the picture of a gentleman in his tailored pants and button-up shirt, he grinned my way then gestured for me to get in his car. “Come on, Ronnie. We’re not so bad once you get used to us.”

  “Because Stockholm Syndrome will help me to sympathise with you?”

  He chuckled and rubbed his fingers along his jaw. “I like you, Ronnie. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

  “Wish I could say the same for you,” I said as I headed towards his car, and possibly to my doom. “Are Abbot and Holland in shit for helping me?” I asked when he got in beside me.

  “That information can stay between you and me.”

  “Like how my living situation was supposed to stay between you and me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone about your living situation, Ronnie.”

  “Then how did Kristian know about it?”

  “He probably found it out himself. Maybe Abbot looked into you. I’m not the only one capable of putting two and two together.”

  That made sense. Still, I didn’t know how much trust I could put into Toby. I didn’t know how much trust I could put in any of them.

  “Toby?” I asked as we drove along the residential streets.

  He glanced at me and lifted his brow in response.

  “I’m never allowed to leave, am I?”

  His eyes momentarily left the road and met mine. “No, Ronnie. I’m afraid you know too much.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Do You Kill A Lot Of People?

  “If you’re always listening, why did it take you so long to find me? I’ve been gone for at least three hours,” I said as I stared straight ahead, being driven to the Cartwright’s main residence.

  “Listening constantly would be creepy as well as time consuming. Frankly, I’ve got better shit to do with my time.’

  “That doesn’t explain why took you so long to find me.”

 
; “Took us a while to realise you were missing. Nice touch with the trickling tap, by the way.”

  I bounced a shoulder. “I know shit.”

  “I don’t doubt that. But I heard the way you handled yourself in there. You could’ve told them everything but you didn’t. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m no snitch. I’m also not stupid enough to continue a war I know I can’t possibly win.”

  “This isn’t a war, Ronnie. If anything, it’s a recruitment.”

  “A recruitment? Why the hell would anyone want to recruit me for anything? I’m nothing to nobody—a pain in the arse, remember?”

  “I think you have a certain charm. Jazz does too. Actually, the whole family thinks you’re a good fit, even Holland, and she doesn’t really like any of us.”

  “What about the twins? Abbot seems to hate me, and I just told Kristian to shove your whole secret society up his arse. Am I really being welcomed back, or is this a lamb-to-the-slaughter type thing?”

  He chuckled. “I guess you just have to trust me.”

  “Like you trust me?” I took my phone out of my bag and held it up as my evidence.

  “We’re the ones with everything to lose. From what I can tell, you have a hell of a lot to gain. Can’t blame us for being careful.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” I muttered.

  “It will.”

  When we returned, the entire family was convened in the formal lounge, sitting around the L-shaped couch—couples flanking the twins—while Jasmine remained standing, resting her forearm on the mantel.

  “Welcome home,” she said with a smile when she saw us. Home?

  Toby placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me into the room. Then he left me standing and approached Jasmine, saying something quietly in her ear before he took a seat on the arm of the couch next to Sam.

  Jasmine examined her nails while I just stood there, feeling like I was in one of those dreams where you’re standing on a stage and look down only to realise you’re naked and everyone is snickering at you. It was horrible.

  “If you’re planning on killing me, just get it over with. No one is going to miss me, anyway.” It had become exceedingly more obvious of late exactly how alone in this world I really was.

  “Go and sit with Kristian please,” she said.

  My stomach reacted for me, dropping a little because I was still really pissed at him for being such a douchebag. On top of that, nerves jittered beneath my skin. I didn’t understand what their deal was and desperately wanted all the cards placed on the table.

  Turning towards the gathered siblings, I moved to the couch, startling a little when I realised Kristian and Abbot were wearing exactly the same thing.

  What kind of mind fuckery is this?

  Frowning, I looked between them. They were almost a carbon copy of each other. But that was for people who hadn’t spent any time with them. And I’d just spent the past week studying every inch of Kristian’s body and two weeks in his constant company. I was very familiar with him.

  “Is this some sort of fucked-up test?” I asked, looking between them. One shrugged, the other licked his lips. Besides the freckle on the chin, there were other subtle differences in their appearances—a softer jawline in one, a tiny bump on the nose of the other, hair that grew differently. But mostly, it was the way they carried themselves that set them apart. I could tell at a glance, even without the simmering heat in Kristian’s gaze.

  I stopped in front of Abbot, my bare legs brushing against his bare knees. If they were going to mess with me, I was going to mess with them too. “Am I supposed to sit on his lap?” I turned and asked Jasmine.

  “Do whatever you like.”

  I turned back and let out my breath as I leaned forward and placed a hand on Abbot’s shoulder. He knew I could tell them apart. I didn’t once think he was Kristian back at the shack before he gave me money. What gives? “Can you move, Abbot? I need to sit beside Kristian?”

  A grin curled the edges of Abbot’s mouth while Kristian let out a relieved chuckle. “I fucking told you,” Abbot said, pointing his finger in his twin’s face.

  Kristian handed over a hundred dollar note with a shake of his head.

  “You bet against me?” I asked, deeply offended.

  His gaze swept over my face, softening with each passing moment. “Not against you. Against your actions. I said you’d probably spit in my face, Abs said you’d try to fuck with us. He was right, I was wrong.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “You were almost right, I considered it.”

  “Sit down, doll,” Kristian said, taking my hand and pulling me to his side. Despite feeling churlish toward him, electricity simmered beneath the surface of my skin.

  Why does his touch need to feel like that?

  It was like heat against ice, a breeze against hot skin, instantly changing my temperature and providing relief at the same time. I closed my eyes. “I’m still pissed at you,” I said, pulling my hand free.

  He grinned and placed his arm on the back of the couch, meaning that in order to sit, I was forced to be within his embrace. I huffed out my breath. So fucking sure of himself. He knows exactly what he does to me, and I hate that I don’t stand a chance against him.

  “Sit please,” Jasmine said with a clap of her hands. “We’ve got a lot to get through. Needless to say, this information does not leave this room.” She hit a button on the side of the mantel, causing the windows to change from clear to opaque and the lights to dim. A whirring sound caused me to search for its source, finding a screen lowering from the ceiling. Are we watching a movie?

  “Relax,” Kristian whispered near my ear, the warmth of his breath feathering my skin. “This is what you wanted.”

  I turned and met his eyes. “Are you sure about that?”

  His eyes smiled for him. “Positive.”

  “We’ll start from the top for new members and the lesser informed,” Jasmine said, looking at me then Holland as she stepped in front of the screen. In her hand, she held a small device that when clicked, made a photo of four men appear. “Meet our local drug lords. Heroin is their game.” She lifted the device in her hand and a small blue dot appeared on the forehead of a solid-looking man with receding brown hair and a Tom Selleck moustache. “Robert Conway. He’s the main man behind the curtain. He controls almost eighty percent of the drug’s production in the country. And will do anything to keep it that way. He’s rarely seen in public, but when he is, he’s flanked by his personal security.” She moved the pointer along the photo as she continued. “Yani Verboten, the man to his left, is ex-SAS, and Thomas James on his right is a thug for hire, trained pretty heavily in both weapons and hand-to-hand combat. The man in front, Bruno, is no longer of consequence.”

  I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Veronica?”

  “Why?”

  “We killed him,” she stated simply.

  They killed him. “Oh.”

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “He was a drug dealer, right?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Then, no. Not really.”

  Jasmine smiled. “Good. Moving on.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “Previously, Nathaniel was supplying these men with only a fraction of their raw product. Even so, since a fire decimated that crop, we’re paying them for what they consider loss of revenue, and frankly, it’s bleeding us dry. These men need to go. Their organisation needs to go with them. I think we’re all in agreement there.”

  I raised my hand again.

  “Yes?” Jasmine asked. Was that a twitch in her eye?

  “Do you kill a lot of people?”

  “Only if they keep interrupting when I’m talking,” Jasmine said, that pleasant smile still fixed upon her face.

  My mouth made an O shape then I pressed my lips together and did the locked-lips gesture.

  Kristian chuckled and leaned in. “Relax, doll. We’re thieves. Not killers.
This is just a necessary evil to repair some old damage.”

  “So, you don’t get rid of people who know too much?”

  “We’re careful who knows what, but if that person poses a threat, yeah, that’s a real possibility. The family always comes first.”

  “I see. And how many girls came before me? What did you do to them?”

  An amused burst of air left his nose. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought home. And you have nothing to worry about. You’re mine. No one’s gonna touch you.”

  You’re mine.

  Mine.

  Most girls longed for three little words. All I needed was two.

  You’re. Mine.

  Fuck. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Then I reached over and slipped my hand in his.

  Mine.

  Someone wants me. I could forgive this man anything as long as I was his.

  God, I was a pushover with this guy.

  Lifting our joined hands, Kristian pressed a kiss to my knuckles then rested both hands against his thigh. I leaned a little closer then turned my focus back to what Jasmine was saying.

  “The problem we face is that it can’t look like us. If we can find something on Conway, someone he’s pissed off, or owes something to, then maybe we can use that to our advantage. I’m open to suggestions, but this is what we have so far.” She clicked through a few slides, verbally detailing ideas. I was a little off balance due to the fact I was sitting in the middle of an organised crime meeting talking about plans to kill people. But other than that, I was doing OK because of all the handholding and whatnot. I got the gist of most of the ideas, which all had their pros and cons. First and least favourite was replanting the poppy field to re-establish supply. It would take some time, but it would release everyone from the monetary strain and feed more income into the family. The catch there? We’d be right back where they started, beholden to Conway and his crew.

  The next idea was to ask them for an exit figure, then liquidate Cartwright assets to meet it. It turned out they had an absolute fuck load, which when liquid, was in the many millions. Obviously, that idea was met with grumbles about needing to work twice as hard to rebuild. No one wanted to go backwards. My personal favourite was hiring contract killers to go in there and decimate the lot of them. It’d bring a shitload of media attention and was certainly the most risky, but it would get the job done, and if all the breadcrumbs were swept up, we’d be free.