Her eyes linger on my hand for a moment before drifting up to meet my eyes, and then she slowly settles back down.
“Who were you following?”
She rolls her lips inward briefly. “After my driver brought me home, I snuck out and took a cab back to the restaurant where Rory was at and followed two of his crew. They led me to you.”
I raise a brow. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“They were in the bar. Right behind you.”
I take a moment to process her words. “Why are you suddenly worried about me?”
“I-I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”
I almost laugh. “You pointed a gun at me and kicked me out of the club just a few days ago.”
I’m greeted by silence, yet again. She’s afraid to answer my questions. The fear flows up her spine and spreads across her face.
“He may have killed you if I didn’t do that,” she finally says.
“Well, I can take care of myself.” I scratch the back of my head. “How’d you know someone was going to come after me?”
“I overhead Rory talking about you after you left Friday, and I wanted to make sure his guys weren’t going to hurt you.”
This time, I do laugh. I don’t mean to be a douche like Corbin loves to call me, but what the hell was she planning on doing if two gangsters came at me?
I eye her, wondering if she’s packing heat. She’s in tall brown boots, which cover dark leggings, and there’s a cashmere sweater that hangs to her quads beneath the leather jacket—I highly doubt there’s a gun tucked somewhere beneath it all.
“This is serious,” she murmurs and rises to her feet.
I take a step toward her, but she stumbles, almost falling right back onto the couch behind her.
I shove my hands in my pockets and study her, trying to figure out this mystery of a woman. “So, what was your plan? If you were coming here to warn me, why’d you run?”
“I-I didn’t really have a plan. I don’t want anyone else killed because of me, but then I freaked when you saw me.”
There’s a somber look in her eyes—the look of a person who has suffered an unbelievable amount of pain in life.
“‘Anyone else’?”
She turns away from me instead of answering, and so I rest my hands on her shoulders. She flinches at the contact and my hands fall back to my sides.
“I appreciate your concern,” I begin when she still doesn’t say anything, “but I’m more worried about you right now than myself.”
“You don’t need to be worried.” She spins around so fast she bumps into me, her hands landing on my chest, and I can’t help but seize her wrists. I’m barely holding on, not wanting to scare her, but I also can’t get myself to let go.
She drags her eyes up to meet mine, her hands still pressed to my dress shirt. She swallows as her lips part a fraction of an inch.
“It doesn’t seem that way. It looks to me like you’re terrified.”
“I really need to go.” Her chest slowly rises and falls, but she keeps her eyes on mine. There’s so much intensity there. So much fucking depth.
“So, that’s it? You come here to warn me, then run off into the night? You’ve done your part, and now you can be on your way?”
“You make it sound—”
“Like what? The truth?”
She moves away from me as if she doesn’t want me to read her—to see the truth in her hazel irises.
She heads to the wall of windows, folding one arm under the other as she peers out the glass.
That’s my signature move of avoidance.
I come up alongside her, press a palm to the glass, and look out at the New York night. The city is glowing and alive, and for the first time in a long damn time, I feel alive, too. It’s been a while. A long fucking while. But there’s something inside my chest, and it’s like a slow burn splintering throughout my organs and lighting everything on fire.
“Tell me why you’re really here,” I say and continue to stare out the window.
This city never lies. It absorbs everything and will spit the truth right back in your face when you least expect it.
I’m still waiting for it to happen to me.
“I told you.”
“No. Some part of you came here because you want my help.” I step back from the glass and wait for her to follow suit, to fight my words.
Fear might rule part of her life, but she’s also bold. I saw it Friday night, and when she faces me right now, I see it in her eyes. Like me, there’s a fire inside of her, too.
“I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ve survived this life for ten years.”
“Survived?” I rub my jaw. “Is that what you want from life? Just to survive?”
She leans her back against the window. “I don’t have much of a choice.”
“And I’m trying to give you one,” I say through gritted teeth.
“And what would you expect in return for helping me?” She pushes away from the window, her eyes darting to mine as she shifts her sweater off her shoulder, showing me the top part of her black lace bra. “Sex?” She swallows. “Do you think I’ll screw you?” Her voice is harsh and bitter like the cold New York nights.
“No, Gia. I’m not a fucking monster.” I’m trying not to be, at least.
“Then what is it, Cade? Why help me? You don’t know me.”
“Can’t a person do something for someone without wanting anything in return?”
She shifts her sweater back in place and murmurs, “Not in my world.” She starts past me, but I turn and grab her wrist. “I just need you to help me get home unnoticed. After that, I never plan on seeing you again. I warned you, so now, you’re on your own . . . like me.”
“You can’t ask me to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Leave you alone.” I mean it, too. I’m invested now. In her health. Her life. My brother is right about one thing—once I’ve made up my mind about something or someone, it’s all bets on the table. And I’m showing my cards right now.
I might be emotionally closed off to people, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let this woman get hurt if I can do something to help.
A flash of hesitation passes over her face. “Don’t get involved with me. Look where it’s gotten you so far. Any more time with me will only get you killed.”
“And what exactly will happen to you if I let you walk out of my life without a second thought? What will this son of a bitch do to you?”
She shirks free of my grasp, and I let her, because I’m not like Rory. I won’t keep my hands on a woman if she doesn’t want me to.
I move, giving her some space.
“Is there a way out of here for me? I need to get home before anyone realizes I’m not there.”
Back to avoidance.
I contemplate my options, but locking her away in my office until I can figure out a way to keep her safe isn’t going to fly.
“I’ll have my driver pick us up in the garage. No one should see us,” I say, but I’m nowhere near done with this conversation—she just doesn’t know it yet.
“Thank you,” she says.
Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting in my limo, and Gia is positioned across from me, her eyes outside, observing the city as it blurs by.
I raise a glass to my lips and swallow the shot of whiskey, unable to take my eyes off of her, and it’s killing me that a woman like her—hell, any woman—should be living in fear.
When her eyes catch mine in the glass, she rips her gaze away.
“Please, be careful,” she says in a soft voice. “Rory doesn’t give up.”
“And neither do I.” My grip tightens around the glass as my other hand clenches into a fist in my lap, my eyes falling shut.
How has she dealt with the guy for ten years? Ten fucking years.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Her accent thickens. “I will get away from this life.”
And why don’t I believe her?
Why do I feel like I’ll see a picture of her dead body on the front-page news someday?
The mob.
No getting out.
Not alive, at least.
My eyes open at the rustle of material. She’s lifting my blazer from her lap, holding it out to me, and I catch sight of the angel wings on the inside of her wrist as the jacket sleeve slides up a little.
I almost shut my eyes again as a memory—a recognition of some sort—tries to resurface. It’s like a thin veil has dropped over my mind, taunting me with only fragments, a puzzle to figure out.
“We’re here, Mr. King,” my driver says after opening the glass partition.
I had instructed him to park around the block from the location Gia gave me. Hopefully she won’t be noticed. And as far as we could tell, we didn’t have a tail.
But before she leaves, there’s something I still need to know. “How’d you get involved with Rory in the first place?” I finally take my jacket from her, and she reaches for the handle.
“My father,” she says before getting out and closing the door.
And it’s in that moment everything comes to me.
The memory of her from my past . . . it blankets my mind, wrapping around my head like a tight bandage. It cuts through me to my very soul, if I even have one.
“Jim, I need you to follow her and see what apartment she goes to. Don’t let anyone see you.”
I grab my cell from my pocket so I can call Jessica as soon as Jim has information.
I can’t be too late to help.
I need eyes on Gia. I need her safe. Alive.
I screwed up eight years ago. I can’t do it again.
6
Cade
My sister never comes to my office. She hates the place. She considers it the Seventh Circle of Hell. And I don’t blame her. My father made her a prisoner of this place.
He chained us all to the family name and business. I’m just the only one who decided to stay. Did I ever have a choice but to become married to the business, to the life, though?
He started bringing me to the office when I was home from boarding school every summer. I even had my own briefcase, although, when I was younger, it was mostly stashed with Twizzlers.
Grace sits on the sofa next to her husband, Noah, and I realize she’s nervous about something. Or maybe excited. I haven’t mastered my sister’s tells yet. I need to work on that. Or even better, I could just ask, do that whole communication thing I’ve heard about.
“So, what brings you here?” I sit across from them, but I become distracted by thoughts of Gia. I can almost smell her sweet, but not too sweet, perfume, even though she hasn’t been here since Monday night.
I’ve been getting regular check-ins from one of Jessica’s men about her, and every time my phone beeps from a text, I’m worried he’s going to give me bad news.
Owen, whom Jessica tasked to be on the team, is a good friend of Noah’s. He was a Navy SEAL, too. Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone who works with Luke and Jessica are former military. Owen normally works down in Charleston, where he also owns a tavern, but he’s one of the best guys on Jessica’s payroll, so I requested that he fly up yesterday, since Luke is out of the country.
Thanks to one of Jessica’s contacts at TSA, she found out that Rory’s not in town, and his flight won’t get back until Friday. At least I know Gia has a few days to breathe before that asshole comes home.
But I need to focus on my sister right now—on the sudden paleness of her skin.
Noah wraps a hand around the back of his neck and eyes Grace.
Something is off with her.
“What’s up with all the extra security?” Noah asks when Grace still doesn’t speak.
Yeah, I need to talk to Noah about that, but I’d prefer to do that without my sister within earshot, especially since she looks—
Grace is on her feet before I can finish the thought, and she’s heaving into the trash bin by my desk.
Noah’s at her side, and he’s rubbing her back.
“You sick?” I go to the bar and grab a bottle of water and paper towel.
The color has returned to her face now. Actually, it’s more like a glow.
She wipes her mouth and tosses the towel in the trash. “Not sick in the normal sense of the word.” She takes a drink. “Sorry about your trash. Apparently, morning sickness is not always in the morning.”
Morning sickness? “You’re pregnant?”
Noah’s hand slides over her stomach.
“How? When?” I rush a hand through my hair, smiling. “I don’t need to know the how part. Sorry.”
She laughs.
I’m not good at this, but shit, I go up to her and pull her in for a hug. And then Noah and I do that one-armed manly kind of hug thing where it’s more like a good job kind of slap on the back.
“How far along?” I ask, once I’ve tied up the trash and given it to my admin, who deserves another bonus now.
“Four months.” She smiles and sits back down. “But there’s more.”
“What?” I ask, nervous.
“We’re having twins. Boys.” Noah grins. The man couldn’t look fucking happier, and I don’t blame him. He’s already a father from a previous marriage, a great one from what I hear, and he’s the kind of guy who could probably have ten kids and keep his sanity together.
How can I ever be a father after the role model I’ve had?
“But the doctors need to keep a close eye on me. I have placenta previa. They said it should correct itself, but I need to be extra cautious.”
“Placenta what?” I ask.
“It’s not a huge deal, but whenever there’s more than one baby, plus this issue—you gotta be more careful.”
“So what the hell are you even doing in my office right now? You should be in bed!” I snap, not meaning to, but I don’t want anything happening to her or the babies.
“I’m okay. I promise. I was hoping to tell Corbin, too, but he texted me that he’s in Vegas.” She frowns. “Another race?”
I want to lie because she doesn’t need the stress. “Yeah,” I finally admit.
“Oh. Well, I haven’t told Mom or Dad yet, and I, uh, don’t know when I will.” Her lips tighten. She didn’t invite our parents to her wedding since they were opposed to her even dating Noah. I can’t say I was exactly enthusiastic, either—but I was dead wrong about him.
I’m wondering, though, if Grace will let them know about her pregnancy.
Mom pops into New York every few months. She mostly stays in L.A. with her younger boyfriend since our parents split. And Dad’s in Paris with someone a third his age, the last time I heard. They still haven’t even gotten divorced. Maybe they won’t. Who knows? Who cares?
“I won’t say anything to anyone, but, do you mind if I have a word alone with Noah?” I ask.
She smiles. “I should freshen up, anyway.”
Noah squeezes her hand and she leaves the office, pulling the door closed behind her.
“So?” Noah tucks his hands into his pockets.
I go over to my desk and press my palms to it, trying to find the right words. “I need you to take Grace out of the city. And you should probably take Lily, too.” It’ll be tricky to work that out with his ex, but if something happened to his daughter because of what I’m planning to do, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He’s at my side before I know it, waiting for some kind of response, some sort of explanation that makes sense.
“I’m sure everything will be fine, but I don’t want to take any chances, especially with Grace pregnant. You need to get her to some safe place with a good doctor to keep an eye on her.”
“Slow down a second.” His hands are raised in the air between us, his eyes narrowing.
I arch my shoulders back for a moment. “I pissed off an Irish mobster last week, and I’m about to make shit worse,” I say this as casually as I can without alarming
him, but I’m pretty sure there’s no way to sugarcoat my words.
“Are you kidding?” He shakes his head and drags in a deep breath.
“Have I ever been one to make jokes?”
“Right.” He grips the bridge of his nose, and my eye catches the titanium band on his finger.
“I have Jessica and Owen helping me out, but I’d feel better knowing that Grace isn’t in the city in case anything backfires.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Probably better if you don’t know.”
“You need backup?”
I know he’s capable, but . . . “I’d rather know you’re protecting Grace and Lily.”
He nods. “I’ve gotta figure out how to get them out of here without scaring Grace.”
I hate this. I hate that I’m putting him in this situation, but what choice do I have? “I’m sorry, man.”
“Yeah, okay. Keep me updated.” A quick smile flashes across his face. “And try not to die. Grace wouldn’t like that.”
“Will do.”
* * *
“We have everything in place, but who knows how long this will all take to go down. It’s a little different from our normal jobs,” Jessica says.
Kidnappings. Protection. Even terrorism. Why not add organized crime to the résumé?
“Still hard for me to believe all of this started because you went to Jerry’s bachelor party.” She cringes. “The idea of Jerry and some stripper . . . ugh.”
Jessica is friends with Jerry’s fiancée, so I guess I can’t blame her for getting offended.
“This kind of stuff happens at bachelor parties.” I smile. “What? Women don’t get stripteased?”
“No comment.” She chuckles. “But, I don’t know. Jerry is such a straight-edge good guy. Can’t picture it at all.”
“Yeah, well, how about we discuss what you’ve found out since we last talked, instead.”
“Got it, boss man.” She winks at me before holding the tablet up between us.
A picture of Richard McCullen, Rory’s father, appears on the screen. Long silver hair, tied back, green eyes like Rory’s, and a hardness to his face—he’s got the look of a man you don’t fuck around with, but he’s not in power now, so he’s the least of my concerns.
My Every Breath Page 4
