I smile at the lot of them and lean on the doorframe, checking them all over. Nate’s fine. Logan, too, but for some cuts on his face. I look at his knuckles, watching as Gabby cleans them off. He did well out there from what I saw, handled himself just like a Cane should. Effective. Merciless. Maybe he’s grown into a good call in the time I’ve been ignoring him.
“Carter?” Emily says, walking over to me. “Sit down. I’ll check you over.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Have you seen your face?”
No. I don’t care either. The only thing bothering me is how Fia feels and the fact that I don't know how the fuck to help her. Everything else is fine. Emily suddenly jabs me in the rib, and I buckle sideways from the pain that rips through me. “You’ve broken that again. Stupid, Carter.”
I laugh and peel my jacket off, dumping it on the chair so I can go see what Quinn’s bitching is all about. He looks straight at me as I approach, a frown on his features.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod and look at the makeshift bandage on his thigh, disturbed by the amount of blood seeping through it.
“You?”
“Would be if someone would get me a goddamn drink.”
“No drink!” Emily’s stern voice snaps through the air.
I laugh again and nod. “You don’t get to drink until the doc gets here. Then we’ll both drink. A lot.”
“Is it clean outside?”
“Not yet. I’ll go help.”
I turn and walk away from him, ready to get on with clean up now I know he’s alright.
"I'll come, too," Logan says.
Good. More hands. Less time.
I’ll deal with Fia later. First, this shit needs locking down and loading away in case some young cop decides he’s above Cane law and tries coming out to investigate all the noise.
“Carter?” I look back at the sound of Fia’s voice, taking in her messy appearance and this time not happy about the outlook. She doesn't look at me, just carries on fussing with Quinn. “Thank you. For protecting me.”
I nod and leave because those words were colder than I’ve ever heard from her. They were polite and nothing more, empty of the passion I know she owns. That’s not a part of her I want to talk with. Not a part of her I fought for either.
* * *
An hour after sending the team on their way, dead bodies wrapped and ready to dump, I’m rolling through the phone numbers of their wives and partners from Quinn’s office. Some of them hadn’t been on the payroll long; others had been with us for years. A long breath blows out of me as I work the names into accounting systems, apportioning pensions to faceless names. It’s what we’ve always done if shit goes south—look after the spouses and kids. Never had to do this many, though. One or two here and there over the years, but it’s been quiet for so long, and the only one who's been doing any necessary deeds through that time has been me. Still am doing.
I toss the phone and stand to peer out into the dimly lit gardens, unclear about the future now she’s here. This world isn’t filled with the pleasantries she’d like it to be. Neither am I, as proved by the dead bodies currently being hauled over to the Canadian border for burial. All because of her and her father. Thank fuck Quinn’s alright. Not sure what I would have done if he’d been killed. Pretty sure it wouldn’t have involved Vico leaving this place alive, though.
Whether she witnessed it or not.
My hands tighten the track pants around my hips, and I head quietly into the kitchen to find some food. No one’s down here with me, and I guess I could have gone back to my own place, but I’m still wound up, expecting trouble. Edgy as fuck. I don’t know. I’m not tired, though, so I thought I’d stay here and protect the house, in case he comes back, or do some work. If you can call manipulating accounting systems to pay the wives of dead guys work. It's not like it's something we can show on our tax returns. Needs hiding. Organising. It’s something I can do to help and get this situation back on track while everyone sleeps.
For fuck’s sake. Who am I kidding? I’m here for her.
Here because I want to be closer to her.
I hover at the kitchen counter, eyes scanning the hall back out to the stairs. It wouldn’t take much. I could just go up there, get inside her and make all this shit between us go away. It’s not that easy, though. Not with those last, cold words of hers and this feeling of love inside me. That means more than just fucking, and more than I know how to deal with.
The thought has me fiddling with some bread, annoyed at my own shortcomings but unable to shed any light on them. I’ll go sit for a while instead, listen to the silence and think about what I will say when the timing’s right. I guess I love you might be a good opening line. I chuckle at my own thoughts and get on with making some food. They’re new to me, unknown territory. As is she, really. It’s not like we even know each other well other than spending a few days together. A few nights, too.
I throw some salami, bread and cheese together, glug down a glass of water and head back to the lounge instead of the office. It’s peaceful, exactly what my mind needs. I munch on the sandwich as I scan over the photos dotted around. Wedding pictures. Logan as a baby. Quinn shaking the governor’s hand. Me and Emily one day, laughing about something. Can't remember what. I was young then, just a kid with no worries after Quinn came for me.
I smile at it and carry on eating, looking over the others. No more of me. I backed out of those photos and trips over the years because … I don't know now I'm thinking about it. I guess I thought they weren’t my family back then. They were the closest thing I might have had to one, but I wasn’t blood. Why Quinn would compare me to a son now when I’m not is a fucking mystery. Kinda nice to hear, though. Especially after all this and what I've done over the years. But ... Fuck knows. I'm too tired to think on it now.
Or too busy thinking of other things.
The photo of a young Fia with her mother and father comes into view and I pick it up, gazing at the three of them in a tux and ball gowns. No one would know what kind of psycho he is, what he’s done through the years. But then I don’t run New York, don’t have the battles he’s had either. Guess that takes a special breed of nasty. I’m not even sure I blame him for the way he's treated her now I'm thinking about it, especially not now I know what love feels like. Fuck knows how I would treat my own kid if that time ever came.
“Hey.”
I turn with a mouthful of sandwich and find her standing in the doorway. She pulls the robe tighter around her and pauses there, as if waiting for me to ask her in.
The air stills between us as I wait to be able to speak. “You okay?” I ask, putting the photo down on the piano.
“Yes. No.” She shrugs and looks where my hand’s just been, a small smile on her face.
“That was the mayor's inaugural ball. I was twelve and so excited to be going to such a fancy event.”
She crosses the room towards it and picks it up, her small frame seeming to fill the fucking room around me. “Wouldn’t know what goes on beneath the surface looking at that, would you? Wouldn’t see the cruel man he actually is. Asshole."
No, I guess not.
I nod and turn back to the couch, letting her take her time. It’s not like I’m sure what the fuck to do in this situation anyway. I'm not ready to deal with it, haven't got my head around it or prepared for it. I keep eating my sandwich, watching her as she stares at the frame, and wonder what I should say. There’s so much to learn yet, so much for her to find out about and understand. Me. The Canes. The business we're all in. And Vico isn’t gone; he never will be. She’s still his daughter, as proved by the forbidden eyes now slowly turning to look at me.
“You’re an asshole, too. Not so dissimilar to him.”
I nod at that. I have no other answer to give so I continue eating.
It’s the truth. More than she knows given my history and my present day. I do the same as her father, hurt people. I've
done it my whole life, ever since these men who guided me formed me into what they needed me to be. But because of her, I now seem to be an asshole with a heart rather than an asshole without one. Still, she deserves this argument, deserves to haul me over the coals for thinking I was doing the right thing.
She can have it.
Thirty
I draw in a long, slow breath and try to gain some form of control over my quivering muscles. Every part of me hums as if I’ve been plugged into a live wire.
“I never thought that when I came out to see Uncle Quinn, I’d meet you.” My voice is calm and soft, betraying the rage that’s eating me up inside as I pace around the room. My feet circle the piano and the couch where Carter stays, finishing his late-night snack.
Why I came down, I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep in the room all alone. All I had for company were thoughts of what Mom will be doing now, or how Dad might be punishing her. So much has changed in only a handful of days—some of the best and worst of my life. “I felt like such a child around you—the big handsome guy who would finally give me a chance to see what was being kept from me my whole life. Of course, you certainly did that. Far more than I ever thought in the beginning.” I continue to pace as the words start to ease past the lump in my throat. “You actually gave me answers to my questions and not just what you thought was safe for me to hear. And stupid me, I believed that what we had might mean something to you.”
I risk looking at Carter to see how my words might have affected him. My broken heart wants him to hurt just as much as I do. But for that, he’d have to care in the first place, and he’d never say what he did to me if he cared.
He’s cleared his plate, his elbows resting on his knees, hunched over. It looks like he’s bored rather than the hurt I'd like to see.
“You could at least look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“Fia, it’s late. Really fucking late, early actually, and it’s been a hell of a day.”
His brush off riles me further. “I know, Carter. I was there. For all of it.”
He sits back and crosses his arms, waiting as if he knows what’s coming. "Look, if you wanna scream at me, go for it. I can't change a fucking thing, but if it makes you—"
“Would that make you feel better?” I cut in.
“Probably not, but right now, I don’t give a shit about me. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Oh, that seems to have changed. The last thing I knew, I was just a convenient fuck to you.” All the humiliation and hurt I felt left alone in that pool erupts with those words.
He stands and starts towards me, a scowl on his face. “That’s not how it was.”
“Really? Want to tell me how it was then? Because I seem to remember you fucked me, then told me it would never happen again and that we were done. That seems pretty much like a convenient fuck to me.”
“Believe me when I say there was never a goddamn thing convenient about fucking you, Fia," he snaps, aggression in his tone. "I never thought of you like that.”
“Sorry. Did I get my verbs wrong? What was it then? A challenge? An accomplishment? Or perhaps just a notch on your fucking belt.” The torrent of anger raging through me keeps the hurt and pain of these words from turning into more tears. I came down to shout and scream and lash out but saying everything out loud really hurts. It reminds me of everything I’ve lost because of a guy who just wanted to prove he could claim a girl’s virginity.
I turn away and look back at the photo—the one taken when I was still sheltered from the world that I'm now right in the middle of.
He grabs my shoulders and twists me back to face him. “You were never any of those things, and you know it. You know I didn’t mean for this to happen, and you know exactly what I put on the line to be with you.”
“But you’re not with me, Carter. Nor have you lost anything.” My voice softens, and I hate that it does.
“You'll never understand this, will you? I fought it so hard, Fia. Had to. From the minute I saw you I knew I couldn’t have you. It didn’t matter if you were the only thing I wanted in the world because you were forbidden, completely untouchable. And yet as soon as I broke my own rules, laid my damned hands on you, the moment I kissed your fucking lips and tasted that strawberry milkshake, I was fated to put all of this into motion.”
His green eyes flicker with light as his words wash over my heart. Of course, they're everything the before Fia would have wanted to hear. But I’m not the same girl now, and as I wait for my heart to stop thudding in my chest, his hands drift from my shoulders and find their way to my waist.
“You left. You told Quinn you were going,” I accuse.
“I did. I thought it was the right thing to do. The only move I could make without putting anyone else in danger. Quinn, Nate. Even Logan. They're my family, Fia, and you don't have the first fucking clue how important they are to me. Or why." Something in his hold changes at those words. He loosens his grip, his body inching away. "You think it was easy walking out of here? Walking away from everything I cared about to keep them safe? I hoped, Fia. That's all I had after us. Your father had his pound of flesh out of me. Maybe, if I left you alone, he wouldn’t go looking for more blood from my family,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together at the mention of my dad. "Maybe, he'd just focus on me instead."
“So, what made you come back? That’s what I don’t understand. Why?”
"For fuck's sake," he mutters, raking his fingers through his hair. "I never left. Not properly. Ended up in the city with every intention of fucking off to Christ knows where. And then Hope found me in a bar and offered some words of advice.”
“My mother?” I step back from Carter’s reach and try to find an explanation that will make sense. Mom knows how much Carter hurt me and how confused I was over him. “She guilted you into coming back?” My heart breaks a little more when I realise what she did.
“No. Far from that. She just told me how it was gonna be with Vico, that he was coming. She also said he'd cage you up. No one's caging you up. No one except me.”
My eyes widen, my mouth ready to carry on arguing.
“You don’t get a say in that, Carter.” His possessiveness doesn’t mean anything if he’s not going to be around to act on it. He’s just like all the other men in my life, thinking he can rule over me.
“Yes, I do. No one, and I mean it, is ever going to touch you with me around.” His eyes narrow in warning.
“And what does around mean to you? Hey? Aren’t we just fucking? It’s not like that will ever happen again after your words to me." My eyes dip to the floor, part of me not knowing where I'm going with any of this. "Look, I don’t know why I came down here, but this was a mistake.” I try to leave, but doubt plagues every footfall to the door.
“Fia, you came here looking for a fight. You’re hurting and confused. I get that, but don’t go yet. We've got things to discuss now. Rationally. There's so much you need to understand about me and—”
“Make up your mind, Carter.” The words drip with frustration, and I huff, wanting to hide away and pretend the world isn’t in pieces. "One minute you're all over me and the next you’re pushing me away. I don't know what to think."
"Jesus Christ, woman. Do you think I would have come back and put everything on the line—put everyone I love or respect in the world in danger—if I didn’t want you in my life? You’re a smart girl. Think about that for a minute. Use your goddamn head and stop bitching about shit that is done and over. What the fuck else do you want me to say?"
His words still don’t make sense to me. He made me choose, or rather left me to choose between going with my mom or staying. My mind puzzles over all the actions from earlier. All the guns, all the shouting, all the actions, and I force myself to see them from the outside, to try to understand the motives behind everything, but I’m too tired, and my heart hurts too much.
"There aren't any rainbows here, Fia. I'm not that kind of man. You want sweetheart ideals, y
ou'll have to go look elsewhere," he says, backing away from me completely and putting his hands in his pockets. "But just so we're clear, that is not what I want you to do."
That still doesn't tell me what he does want. Or what any of this between us is supposed to be. My head shakes, confusion, exhaustion and something else making this all seem impossible. He's right; there aren't any rainbows here, and apparently, even after all we've been through, no love either. At least from his lips, anyway. “I can’t do this now," I huff.
I push my feet to move and not look back, desperate to find some kind of space and sense. My mom’s gone. My dad’s a waste of life. My friends are across the country and there's no chance I can get back to them. And now I'm here with the only family I have left, and I’ve never felt more lonely.
As soon as I’m clear of the room, my pace quickens, and I race over the wooden floors and up the stairs. The hall blurs as I run until I dive onto the bed to bury my face in the pillow. I could cry for a week, a month. Last time I cried on the bed I had my mom here to comfort me. Now, she’s with him and God knows what that means. It's all such a mess.
Carter’s still being an asshole.
The doubt that always invades your mind at your weakest point starts to snake its way around my heart, turning my thoughts around and inside out. I’ve not had a chance to consider a proper plan and what I should do next, but I guess I have to now. Would Andi put me up? Could I hide out with her and try to start back at Columbia? The independence that would give me would have made me so happy a few weeks ago. Now, it feels like an empty goal. My mind can’t compute whether the emptiness is coming because of Carter or not.
Forbidden Eyes: A Cane Novel 4 Page 31
