I nod. This is where I can start making up for my deceit. The woman I was before Cane came into our lives is exactly who I was. And now Benjamin knows my secret, I have the strength to stand up to my brothers. As long as I have him, I can do anything.
Twenty-Three
My father’s beads slip over my wrist and I move to tighten my watch. The last thing either of us needs after these last few days is what we’re about to do, but it’s the one event I attend every year without fail. No one’s telling me otherwise. No possible threat. No scaremongering. No Yakuza scum on a trail for revenge, if they fucking dare. Fuck them. This is the one tradition my father honoured before me, and I carry on in his memory. Charity begins at home, he’d say. Yeah, well, there’s not much charitable about me, wasn’t in him either, but he always tried to give something back, an offer of peace to the poor in his neighborhood.
“Nice.”
My eyes swing back to the sound of her voice in the doorway, no emotion to show I’m the slightest bit interested in how fucking good she looks. She walks over, hands coming up to straighten my lapels.
“You always did look good in a tux,” she says, running her fingers across the silk. I stare at her as she does it, enjoying the edginess she’s trying to hide.
She looks pretty, sexy as fuck if I’m truthful with myself. Hair piled up, black dress clinging to all the right places, and more of those diamonds showing her worth. “The car’s downstairs.”
“You got your game head on?” I ask. She nods, saying nothing more as she leaves me, and heads out of the bedroom.
She’ll need it. She’ll need to be clear minded and focused for tonight’s event. They’ll both be there with their wives in tow, both of them thinking they’ll have a good night out at the fight. I walk out after her, reaching for my gun and holstering it beneath my suit. The move has me snorting as I reach for the main door, amused at what my life has become lately. Doesn’t seem so long ago I never bothered to carry. Guess that time’s passed now, relegated to a life I thought I wanted. Maybe I still do.
“You okay?” she asks, grabbing her bag and sweeping past me into the hall. Are we okay is what she means. No, we're not, but for tonight we have to be in front of Cane and the rest of the world. After that, fuck knows.
I slip an arm around her waist and keep moving towards the elevator, unsure if anything about us will ever be okay again. Life’s changed. Everything has. Her especially.
The doorman nods as we exit the elevator, bidding us a good night. A good night? I suppose a family gathering is a good night, not that the rest of the family know what’s coming for them yet. How I’d feel if someone told me they were my half sibling, I don't know. Might have some out there, I suppose. My father was no goddamn angel either.
“You look pretty,” I offer, holding the car door open for her.
That should be answer enough as to whether we’re okay or not. It’s all I’ve got to give her at the moment. I'm still half tempted to show her how pissing me off ends up for those who try it, but then that other part of me stops, changing the direction in my head.
I slam the door behind her and head around the other side, glaring at the fucking world for its intrusion into my life. Blood, guns, treachery, deceit. Lies are not something I forgive easily, nor are they excused by simply revealing the truth. It’ll take a while before this shit disappears from my thoughts, no matter how much I seem to be in love with her.
* * *
Lights blind me as I grab hold of her hand and hold her steady in my grip. She blinks at me for a few seconds as she gets out of the car, refocusing as the cameras take their shots for the daily rags. We’ll be all over them tomorrow, our faces showing the world how important I’ve become. Benjamin Vico—business man, philanthropist. Another round of cash tossed into the masses to prove that decency I’ve aimed for.
I smile at her and link our fingers, turning us up the red carpet and waving Torino and Eddie off. We won’t need them here. There’s more security lying around than even I can muster. Politicians. New York’s finest businessmen. Even the fucking mayor will turn up soon. He’s a dick, but he’s a dick who owes me favours. Always useful in this city.
Her eyes sweep the crowd, body moulding into perfect angles for pictures to make us appear charitable and giving. I chuckle at that and search for those Cane boys in the crowds, already bored with the pretence she offers so easily. My brow furrows at the thought as we wander through the foyer. I used to enjoy that about her, found it amusing. Not now, though. Now I want real. Honest.
Truthful.
She stiffens as we round the corner. It’s the first sign of honesty I’ve seen from her so far tonight. She’s scared, nervous under all that bravado. Fuck knows why. It’s a statement. That’s all. I’m your sister. I head for the main auditorium, more than amused at that because I can’t wait to see the looks on their goddamn faces. No amount of getting into my systems told them that bit of information, did it? Not one fucking thing would give them the ability to have that over me.
A ruckus of sound comes from behind us as we weave through the crowds, shouts and screams for a name I don’t know. I swing back, pushing her to the side to avoid the trample of guests rushing to get a view.
“It’s Rocket,” she says. I look back at her, confused. “You know, Britain’s newest pop sensation?” No. I don’t know. Nor do I give a fuck. “Guess it’s a good job you’ve got me to inform you of life outside, Benjamin Vico.” Apart from the lie she’s been living.
My brow must conjure the right amount of disdain for her tone, because she defers her eyes to the floor for a second or two, checking herself. Better.
“Vico,” I hear shouted across the room from somewhere. I turn to the right, searching the crowds again, and eventually find Nathan and Gabby at my table close to the ring, his glass of champagne raised at me. Quinn sits beside them, Emily on his knee, apparently not the slightest bit interested in my arrival. He’s too busy all over his woman and laughing at something to worry about me, or his champagne. It’s cute.
They’re fucking cute.
“You think that’s what love is?” I muse to Hope, nodding my head at them and making my way down the steps.
“It is for them,” she replies, finger twitching in my hand as she follows. “Not for everyone, though, I suppose.”
Not for everyone.
I look back at her for that, focusing on the last of the words. Everything drowns out but her face. The crowds. The noise. The beams of lights around the place. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the look of her, slightly lost in thought, her hand trying to pull from mine for some fucking reason. I half let it go, pissed that my damn head can't make up its mind. “You want that shit?”
“I want you,” she says quietly. A good answer. The right answer. Still, I stare, doubtful of everything she is. We’re not that anyway. Never have been. I wouldn't even know what that shit is or how to deliver it if she did want it. “However I can have you, Benjamin.”
Yeah. She wants that shit.
Doesn't damn well deserve it, though.
My head shakes at her, and I turn for the boys again with a fucking spring in my steps. Jesus Christ. The hell is that? Bouncing? I’m a goddamn mess of fucked emotions. Should've killed her, and instead I've got this crap in my head screwing with logic. I straighten my tux tie and offer my hand to various people on the way down. Polite greetings are needed—a politician’s son, the governor’s daughter, more people I neither like nor give a fuck about—until we eventually get to my table.
“Boys,” I call out, reaching for some drinks. I pass one back to Hope, pulling out a chair for her. “Starting early?”
“You’re late,” Quinn says, finally getting to his feet to slap me on the back. “We were bored waiting for you.”
Were they? I smirk and look up at the ring, oddly not caring that they started drinking before me. Maybe that’s what friendship does when you finally trust someone. How the fuck that friendship’s gonna pl
ay out by the end of the night, I don’t know.
“Hope was deciding what to wear,” I counter, shaking Nathan’s hand. “It’s an important night for her.”
“Why?” they both ask, looking down at her.
The whole place dims with only whispers of light, then erupts into some fucking music as the main beams focus on the ring in front of us.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Dominion Event. On behalf of the GAA Fight Night, the most anticipated bout of the year is brought to you by…
Cheers echo off the side of the building, the whole room standing to welcome the fucking idiots who are about to knock each other’s heads off for a few hundred grand. The noise makes me smile and turn for the entrance, waiting for the fighters to swagger in.
“Never have understood this,” Emily suddenly says by my side. I look down at her and widen my smile.
“Not your scene?”
“No. Quinn enjoys it, though.” Of course, he does. He’s a killer, like me. Bet his blood’s riling up inside him now, hoping to let loose at something. I look at him, watching as he bounces his shoulder off Nathan’s. They laugh, enjoying each other’s company.
“What the hell do you love about him?” Emily’s eyes shoot up to mine, hands covering her ears at the deafening sound of new music that drops in. She’s too cute. Completely fucking lost in here. I swing to look at a fighter coming in, gloves throwing jabs about as the crowd jeers him on.
“Strange question,” she shouts. I sip my drink and dump a load of cash in the baskets being passed around. Not to me it’s not. They’re completely at odds with each other, and yet so fucking attached. “What’s that?” she asks.
“Charity.”
“Oh. Really?” She digs in her bag and nearly equals what I’ve just put in there, a smile on her face. “Not something I’d imagine of you, Benjamin? Charity?” I guess not. I smile again and look back at Hope.
“I’m not all monster.” Emily giggles. That’s fucking cute, too. I pull my eyes from Hope’s stare and glance at this woman who’s somehow managed to tame a beast like Quinn. “You’re a strange pairing, Emily Cane.”
“Aren’t we all?” she says, walking away towards Gabby.
The night goes on, blood and fists flying around the ring in front of us. Quinn’s all over it, his body front and centre as he absorbs the atmosphere around him. Nathan, too.
They’re like two teenagers suddenly forgetting their place in society and just enjoying a night off. The women sit off to the side, talking, but Hope’s still edgy. The sight of her fills me with an element of compassion for her situation, reminding me of what she once was because of these boys. Still is, I guess. Her eyes flit to me every so often, a frown on her face, and then go back to whatever the women are talking about.
I hail a waiter and sigh, asking for another round of drinks. He scurries off and leaves me to lean back in my chair. I could be tired if I thought about it. Worn out. My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose, rubbing the tension away. Her. What's happened. The way she looked as she begged for forgiveness— the one fucking thing I don't know how to give. All that's gone down, perhaps even Tony, is because of her. Why should I forgive her? For love? Fucking sonnets or some shit?
Her hand lands on my shoulder out of nowhere, lips gently coming to my cheek. “You all right?” she asks, brushing her hands down the front of my chest.
“Tired.”
“Well, we haven’t had much sleep lately.”
Yeah. I sigh again and look at the boys, willing some of that sleep back. I’ll never get it, certainly not for a while. We’ve still got a bitch to find and destroy, and a Yakuza empire to obliterate entirely. We might have made a good start, hit them hard and pushed them back for a while, but it’s not over yet.
Not by a long shot.
“You should get on with telling them,” I mutter. “Never know what’s coming lately.” Perhaps that’s why I’m letting this shit go with Hope and them. No one knows what’s coming. None of us. Every fucking turn is another threat, another concern.
We could all be dead tomorrow.
Our drinks arrive as I stare, champagne and scotch being put on the table beside us. I nod at the scotch bottle, asking her to get it for me. She does, and I down it, hoping for a goddamn pick me up of some kind.
“I will,” she says, rubbing my arm. “Later.”
My eyes close at the feel of her touching me. Soothing. It’s nice when I forget the rest of it, especially with all this fucking sound around me. I draw a long breath in, enjoying the moment, but the moment I do, I feel sick. The room spins in front of my eyes. I close and open them again, frowning, trying to shake the feeling. The fuck is that?
My heart rate kicks up at the feeling, heat travelling through me. I glance around and stand, searching for something as my breathing quickens, too. “What’s the matter?” she asks. “You don’t look good.” She blurs in my vision, her face swerving about. Drunk? I haven’t been so drunk that I was sick in years. I grab onto the back of the chair, confused, and rip at my bow tie to loosen the restriction.
“Benjamin?”
My eyes go to the glass I’m holding, wondering what the fuck I’ve just drunk, then to the bottle on the table.
“You pour from that?” I snap out.
“No. There was a double already there.” Fuck
“Don't drink any of that shit,” I snarl, reaching for the salt and heading from the table. “None of it.”
My feet claw up the stairs towards the gents, my heart racing like it’s about to fucking explode. I snatch a clean glass from another table and run the rest of the way, eventually crashing through the bathroom doors to get to the tap. It’s filled with salt and water and downed so quickly I barely register it happening. My guts heave within seconds, arms braced on the sink top as I stare at the blurred image reflecting back. One second, two, three, and then it all comes back up. I retch and heave repeatedly, trying to purge whatever it is out of me.
“Vico?” Quinn’s voice rings in my ear.
I heave again, more of it coming out to splatter into the sink. Fuck. My legs give way, ass dropping to the floor and chin ricocheting off the surface as more vomit comes out. “The fuck, Vico?”
I can feel him all over me, checking me. My pulse, his head at my chest, his fingers in my mouth, but I can’t move to stop him. Can’t talk either. He shakes me, hand twisting my face about as Nathan’s voice bursts into the room somewhere.
“The hell?”
“Call an ambulance,” Quinn shouts. No. The women.
I try to move, try to show them what I need. Get Hope. Keep her safe. But nothing moves. Nothing will do what I want it to. My mouth tries to open, words sticking in my goddamned throat.
“Put the phone down, Nathan.” My brow twitches. Who’s that? A woman. I try to see through the blur in front of me, try to move again.
Everything goes silent for a few seconds. No noise. Nothing.
“The fuck have you done?” Quinn suddenly bellows, his hands pulling me closer to him.
“Can I suggest you calm down? This will be a lot simpler without a scene in public.” American. Educated. I try shaking my head, clearing my vision, but it’s getting worse not better. My body sags into Quinn, fucking useless without his support. “Guns, gentleman, please.” I feel my own being taken from me, the sound of it skimming across the floor as Quinn moves us around and then throws his. “Yours too, Nathan. We wouldn’t want a reminder of the last time we were all together.”
“Bitch,” he spits.
“Hmm. But I am a bitch with the power again. Lift him. We’re all going on a drive.” Quinn growls. I feel it reverberating off his chest as he begins trying to get me upright. Another arm comes in from the side, hoisting me upwards and starting to drag me. “And don’t worry about your little girls. Andreas is bringing them along, too.” The thought of Hope in trouble has me fighting whatever the fuck is inside me with more hatred as my muscles try to get moving again. Quinn st
ops me, holding me still.
“Fuck you, Hisa,” he snarls out, towing me with him.
“All in good time.”
Near silence then, just the faint sound of the music and cheers in the main auditorium. I’m half dragged, half hauled somewhere, my feet dragging over the carpet beneath me. The damn feeling pisses me off, priming my muscles to wake the fuck up. They struggle a little, feet trying to gain leverage against the floor.
“You hear me,” Quinn whispers, lifting me onto his side again and clamping hard into me. I grunt, unable to get anything out through my lips. “You stay down. You keep it quiet until you’re back fully.” Intelligent. I nod to myself, trying to focus on the carpet, walls, anything to bring my eyes back into line. Nothing comes, but the dizziness is wearing down, and my heart is slowing, as we keep moving.
“Cunts,” Quinn mutters as my body is taken from him.
Doors slam around me, my ass being put somewhere, and then engines start, several of them. I listen, trying to hear Hope, Quinn, or Nathan. There’s nothing, though, only the low purr of engines and quiet talking in Japanese. Fucking Yakuza scum. This bitch, whoever she is, is not going to survive the night. None of them are.
Twenty-Four
Quinn and Nathan rush after Benjamin, both of them concerned about what's happened, and all I can do is stand and watch. My feet are frozen in place, and I watch it play out. In my mind, I know I should follow him, check to see if he’s all right, but I can’t move. My fear grounds me. I gave him that drink. I handed the glass to him. There was no way I could know what was in it or that it wasn’t right, but will Benjamin think that? Will he see that I’d never do anything to hurt him? Or will he only see the blame and revenge I’ve been after and now put him in the middle of?
Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3 Page 23
