by Ruby Vincent
Ivan smacked my ass on the way down. I’d need a long, hot, scouring shower after this. It was just as well I was killing him tonight. If Saint found out, he’d cut off his fingers and feed them to him.
Pushing through the dancers, I followed the shining sign directing me down a darkened hallway. The women’s bathroom was at the very end.
It was a tiny space with two stalls and two sinks beneath a dirty, cracked mirror. I checked under the doors for feet.
No one.
The mirror told me I was a mess. All that flailing around and throwing my head back knocked my bun askew. One shot made it into my mouth. The rest soaked my back like rivers of sweat. No one said ruling Cinco City would be easy or pretty, but my law is the law. Judgment had been handed down.
The door flew open. Ivan stumbled in, his momentum careening him into the stall.
“Ass up, bitch.”
Such a charmer.
I hopped on the counter and opened my arms. Ivan fell on me, sucking and slurping on my neck. His erection ground insistently into my thigh.
My fingertips drew my bag closer to me. Holding his head firm, I slipped the note from my purse and tucked it into his pocket. Then I closed over the needle. There was no time for anything fancy. A syringe full of Gianna’s eye drops, and a slow death by tetrahydrozoline would get the job done. The wannabe king would stumble home drunk, believing his symptoms needed to be slept off. By the time his body, and the note, were found, my point would be made.
Ivan found my zipper and ripped it down. I responded in kind.
Lifting his shirt up, I exposed his back. The tip pressed to his skin.
Bang!
A golden-haired menace of cold-blooded savagery filled the doorway. The light graced the tips of his hair, bends of his cheekbones, and snarl on his lips.
My eyes bugged. “Cash?”
“Fuck off!” Ivan shouted.
Roaring, Cash ripped him off me. The needle flew from my hand.
“Cash, wait!”
He punched Ivan, doubling him over. The banger responded with ingrained instincts. He shot forward and rammed Cash into the stall. They went down fists flying.
What the hell is happening? What’s Cash even doing here?!
The syringe lay next to the garbage can. I kicked it behind. “Cash, please, stop.”
Ivan came flying out of the stall. Cash emerged—whole and ferocious—gold melting in the fire of his glare. Ivan caught himself on the door handle. Straightening, he charged Cash.
Cash ripped the gun from his holster.
He fired once. Twice. Three times.
Ivan collapsed at his feet, blood pooling on the grimy tiled floor.
I stared at him wide-eyed. “You killed him.”
“You fucked him.”
“I—” Cash advanced on me. “Wait. It’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think!?”
The shout blew me back. I’d never heard Cash shout. Bark orders? Yes. Snap off biting, asshole comments? Absolutely. But lose his temper? No.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Redgrave?! Dressed like this.” He snatched the glasses off and flung them across the room. “Letting that guy put his hands on you!”
“It’s not like that. Nothing was going to happen.”
“Plenty happened.” Cash’s fist dented the paper dispenser. “This is what you were hiding! You’re fucking around on us?!”
I blinked. Us?
“No,” I said. “This is a misunderstanding. I came here to— to blow off steam. Dance. Drink. Have fun. He followed me into the bathroom. You busted in before I had a chance to push him off—”
Cash hauled me around. Spit and teeth marks shone clear on my neck.
“You think you got us tamed, don’t you, Redgrave?”
There was nothing tame about Killian Hunt at that moment. Gripping my chin, he pulled me back onto him, face pressing against mine. “That we bend and scrape at your knee?”
“No,” I whispered. “Cash, I swear nothing was going to happen.”
“You chose us. The Merchants. Twisted, vicious, and depraved is what you wanted. It’s what you wanted from me.” His breath rolled hot over my cheek. “You kept pushing, Adeline. Digging and digging until you brought this man out. You want to know where the line between Cash and Killian is?”
I couldn’t speak even if I had the power. I was trapped in his hold. Heart thumping on his arm. Throat pulsing his grip.
“You found it.”
Spinning me to face him, Cash ripped my panties down in one move. The stalls blurred.
Cash lifted me onto the counter and spread my legs like they’d been for Ivan. The sound of his zipper yanking down was the preparation I got.
I choked on a cry. Cash filled me to the hilt, stretching a pussy only recently reawakened to steady sex. He started pumping—a punishing, relentless pace that smashed me into the mirror.
“Cash!”
If you’d asked me how I thought my night would go, Cash balls deep inside me wouldn’t even have made my list of impossible events. I was still confused by his presence. Rattled by the obvious conclusion he followed me. Thrown by his—there was no other phrase for it—raging jealousy.
He struck that spot dead center, ripping a moan/scream from me. I kicked the dispenser clean off the wall.
Cash grabbed my ankles, holding them above our heads, and using the leverage to plow deeper still.
My eyes rolled up in my head—mouth open in a silent cry. Colliding bolts of electricity zinged through my veins. It was like finding the pleasure button and rapidly striking it until you left yourself a drooling heap twitching and giggling on the floor.
Cash was a beast unleashed. Cold, refined, and hard, the man towering over me didn’t know the meaning of those words. Heat stained his cheeks with color. Golden locks stuck to his forehead. His grunts were maddened and satisfied. It was hard to explain how I sensed they were both.
But they were.
He thrust deeper, banging his thighs on the countertop, and I came so hard I cracked my back arching off the sink. Loud and violent, the orgasm tore my sanity to shreds. I flopped on the faucet in a daze. Unable to comprehend what just happened.
Cash tightened on my ankles. His body tensed up, head thrown back. I reached a shaky hand. My fingers brushed his lips as he emptied inside me.
For the barest second, I felt the pressure of his kiss.
Cash released my legs.
I tipped off the sink, dropping on the floor to Ivan’s unseeing eye-level. Cash tucked himself in and swept out of the bathroom.
My fogged mind took a minute to catch up.
“Wait,” I croaked.
Snatching up the syringe, I shot up, and nearly fell on Ivan. My left heel had snapped off. Probably when I took out the dispenser.
Cursing, I yanked off my heels, grabbed my bag, and chased after Cash.
His head bobbed through breaks in the crowd. He was moving fast, making for the exit and out into the street where I’d lose him. Lose all of them if he told Brutal, Mercer, and Saint I cheated.
After everything I’ve done. Everything we’ve been through. I’m not losing my boys over a piece of shit like Ivan.
I dropped the syringe on the packed floor. It was crushed under foot almost immediately. Evidence gone.
I burst out of the club. “Cash!”
Running to the edge of the sidewalk, I scanned the street for that brilliant crown and sweeping coat. Headlights flashed two cars behind Raul’s. I charged after him.
“Cash, listen to me.” I slammed his door shut. “What is wrong with you?! What do you have to be mad at me about? How long have you been following me?”
“How long have you been fucking other guys behind our back?”
“I haven’t,” I gritted.
“This what you do on your weekends?” It was like he hadn’t heard me. “Pick up other bangers. The Merchants aren’t enough of a thrill.”
“I wasn’t pic
king him up! I told you I was—”
Cash punched the car window, showering his seat with glass. “Fucking lie to me again and we go with plan B. Find a use for you, or kill you.”
My jaw clenched. “You won’t kill me.”
He leaned in, forcing my back to the car. “I won’t care if I did either way because we’ll be done with you. You won’t see us again. Not even on the security tape of us running around in our masks.”
Our heated gaze burned the other through for a long spell. A watching crowd lingered behind us.
“I came here to find Ivan,” I said quietly. “I heard this is his favorite club. Last week, an elderly couple in Rockchapel were killed in their apartment during a B and E. Mr. and Mrs. Maldonado.”
“What’s that got to do with you being here?”
“The Blood Brothers did it. Everyone in the borough knew, but they didn’t have proof. So, I came to get it.”
His forehead crumpled in a frown. “Why?”
“I knew the Maldonados.” I didn’t but Cash couldn’t say otherwise. “They were good people. Never hurt a soul. When Saint killed Ronin and his brother, he cleared the path for that Ivan bastard to take over. Ronin was no choir boy, but he had respect for his neighborhood. He knew where the line was.
“Since Ivan took over, the Blood Brothers have terrorized Rockchapel and he told me himself this was just the beginning. It was indirectly, but all this setting off was our fault.”
“And what did you think you were going to do about it?”
“I did it,” I replied. “I got Ivan drunk and goaded him into admitting he murdered the Maldonados. In the bathroom, I wrote a note saying I knew what he’d done, and the police would know too if the Blood Brothers didn’t go back to jacking rich pricks and stayed out of innocent people’s homes. I slipped it into his pocket while he was slobbering all over me.”
I gave Cash a hard look. “Check if you don’t believe me. And you better hurry. Any minute now some girl is going to run screaming out the door yelling murder.”
Cash didn’t move. He scanned the lines of my face searching for a lie.
I held my breath, locking steady on his gaze. Every good lie has a kernel of truth at the root. He’d pick up on that even if he made it past the righteous anger poising the creature to strike. Or the smoldering attraction Cash had lit into an inferno less than twenty minutes ago.
I felt him throbbing inside me. The pressure in my core. His iron grip on my ankles. Cash had found the line between Adeline and my other half. And neither one knew what to do next.
He turned his back on me, stalking into the club. Cash didn’t believe me. But he would.
Consider this your official warning.
The Blood Brothers are out of the burglary business. The Maldonados are the last innocent couple you kill. The Burgesses are the last poor family to wake up and find their car gone.
You no longer live by Ronin’s or Ivan’s rules. You live by mine.
-Bunny
Slumping against the car, I thanked every deity of fortune that I didn’t reference Ivan’s death. My point was to be made by his men finding the note on his body with no idea of where it came from or who got to him and when. I anticipated having to make my point a few more times. Gangbangers were hardheaded. But the note would let them know they were being watched.
Cash came out of the club, gripping a slip of paper in his hand.
Or it would’ve.
“Cute.” Cash tossed the crumpled paper in his car. “You’ve got a thing for notes, Redgrave. Let’s see what else you’ve written today.”
“Wha— Hey!”
Cash snatched my bag and took out the notepad. He tore through the pages.
“What is wrong with you?!” I cried. “Is this a breakdown?”
“What did that homeless man have to say that needed to be written down word for word? Tips for bathing in a puddle?”
My mouth fell open. “You followed me to the restaurant too?”
How in the bloody fuck did I not see him? What did he see? I thought, frantically running through the past few days.
“Where is it?”
“It’s here!” Ripping it from him, I flipped to the notes I wrote from Captain and shoved it in his face. “Are you happy? There’s my big secret, Cash. I get recipes from a homeless man.”
In dark blue ink, “Turkey Bolognese” was written on top of the page. Beneath it, I wrote out various ingredients and quantities. Two tablespoons of olive oil. Five cups of marinara sauce. Seven carrots.
“This is it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No. That’s not what you wrote.”
It was actually. All the information Captain gave me on the gangs of Rockchapel, written in my carefully devised code.
Turkey Bolognese for the Flaming Hogs. Five cups of marinara for the five new members. Two tablespoons of olive oil for their losses. Seven carrots for the seventy kilos of cocaine they were hiding in the back room of their bar.
I wasn’t an idiot. Even my school notes were written in code. If anyone actually tried to cook these, they’d end up with a bowl of the most disgusting mush. Otherwise, there was nothing out of place about a chef with a book full of recipes.
“If you were watching, you know this is the same notepad,” I said. “Captain didn’t always live on the streets. He once had a home. A family. He gives me recipes and I cook for him when I can.”
A muscle ticced in his jaw. Rippling veins went down the hand crunching my notepad, stark along his arm. For some reason, he was only getting angrier. “Got an explanation for everything, don’t you, Redgrave?”
“Yes, because there is an explanation.” I shoved him. “How about you give me one? Why are you following me?”
“Why? Because there’s something not right about you,” he hissed. “You’re not what you should be, Adeline Redgrave.”
Stiffening, a cold sweat dripped down my spine.
“The day Sinjin was stabbed, you drove him back to the station instead of dumping him at a hospital and taking off in his car. You do shit like roll into a banger club by yourself to trap and threaten a gang leader.
“You killed Angelo, and you cried.” His nose brushed mine. “I don’t trust you. I never have. I never will.”
I swallowed hard. Three things were very clear to me. Cash would have time to stop me if I dove for the shards of glass on his seat. There were too many witnesses on the street. And I gravely underestimated this man. The whole time, it was Cash, not Saint I needed to hide from, and he’s seen me the whole time.
“If you wanted to know something,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “You should’ve asked. I didn’t run that day because I couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave my dad and Gianna behind. I came after Ivan by myself because if I involved you guys, you’d kill him. Turns out I was right.
“And I cried after I killed Angelo? What’s that supposed to mean, Cash? Why wouldn’t I cry?”
“You didn’t after beating Felix, taking out Acker, jumping off a balcony, or attacking the Castian. But down in the basement with no signs of a struggle, you weep and wail over the body of that surprised bastard. I think you killed him,” he said, “because Angelo knew something about you that I need to know. It’s why he tried to trade you off Sinjin. Why don’t you tell me what that something is, Redgrave? End the bullshit here.”
I said nothing for a long time.
“It must be hard,” I whispered. “Being the man who sees everything.”
I cupped his cheek. Surprise flickered in his eyes.
“But everyone who hides something from you, isn’t a threat, Cash. Some things”—I kissed him softly—“are just none of your damn business.”
He growled.
“No,” I shouted. “You don’t get to be mad at me because you didn’t see this, Cash. I was raped.”
Cash reeled back. “By Angelo?”
“By men like him.” The words choked in my throat. “Over and over again for ye
ars. Some of them couldn’t take my screaming, so they beat me. Drugged me.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I was a child, Killian. Trapped in my own body. Helpless. Praying someone would save me.
“So no, I don’t expect you to see. To understand why on the day I’m tied up, beaten, and sexually assaulted on Angelo’s orders, that after killing him I’d cry.”
The anger was gone. Hard, unreadable Cash had slid into place, shuttering close the brief glimpse inside. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I suspected but... didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t begin to understand what I’ve been through,” I cried.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“So don’t tell me I’m not who I should be! I haven’t been that person since I was ten years old.” His anger was waning. Mine was not. I hated him for hearing my story. I hated myself for not knowing what else to tell him but the truth. I hated that my tears were real.
I grabbed him—shaking, punching, and pummeling his chest. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Cash! What more do you want from me?” I raised a hand to smack him across the face. He didn’t block the hit. Didn’t react when it landed. “All I’ve done is love you idiots!”
So far.
“Why isn’t that enough?”
Cash didn’t answer.
“Ugh.” I fell on his chest, burrowing in his jacket, and hugging him tight. “Dammit, Killian, hug me back.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“Because I’m crying.”
There was a pause, and arms wrapped around me. He secured my waist—firm and immovable, and on my head he laid his hand, stroking my hair with more tenderness than I knew he possessed.
I blubbered into his shirt—wracked by the feelings these men had forced out of me and shocked they still existed to be found.
Twelve feet from us, screams erupted from the club. Girls ran out in their eight-inch heels, signaling the impending arrival of the police.
“Why don’t you trust me?” I asked softly.
“Because with you... I can’t see.”
I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.” I took his hand, leading him to Raul’s car.
“Go where?”
“We have to settle this tonight,” I said. “This is the last time you stalk me, Killian Hunt. The last time I have to prove I’m devoted to the Merchants. Get in the car, and you’ll find out everything you need to know about me.”