by Tate James
"Every last one," he assured me. "It's why I never told you. They're gone, destroyed. You didn't need to know."
I drew a deep breath, letting it ground me and wash away some panic. "Why? I never needed you to protect me, Zed."
His lips twisted in a sorrowful grimace. "Yes, you did. I was just too late."
That statement struck me right in the heart, stealing my breath away. But I didn't get a chance to unpack all the baggage piled into those few words as screams rose from the club below.
25
Zed and I both jerked at that first scream, leaping to our feet and peering over the railing to get a read on what exactly was causing such a commotion.
"You must be fucking kidding me," I uttered, hardly believing what I was seeing with my own eyes. "Has everyone lost their goddamn minds?"
Zed huffed, pulling his gun, and led the way out of the VIP lounge. "Not everyone, boss. Just Vega and Cass, apparently."
"And their men," I snarled. "They seriously chose the wrong night to break my rules." I drew my own gun as I followed my second down the stairs to the main club. I usually let him handle fights within the venues, but I was already in a rare mood. This might be just what I needed.
By the time we got down there, a lot of the patrons had scattered into the parking lot or were staying well out of the way while the Anarchy security team tried to break up fights between the Reapers and the Death Squad.
In the middle of it al, were the leaders themselves. Vega had Cass by the front of his shirt and was punching the shit out of the bigger man... yet Cass wasn't fighting back.
Zed glanced over at me, his brow raised, and I aimed my gun at Vega's head.
"What," I said in a voice like glacial ice, "do you think you're doing, Vega?"
I didn't need to yell. He heard me loud and fucking clear. His spine stiffened, and he released Cass like he'd just realized he was holding a poisonous creature.
"Hades," he croaked, spinning around to face me with a stricken look on his face. "I didn't realize you were here tonight."
I raised one brow. "And that would make it okay? You know the rules, Vega. You all know the rules." At this, I shifted my cool stare to Cass, who sat on the floor, dabbing at his split lip with the corner of his T-shirt.
"Respectfully, Hades," Cass spoke up, "I broke no rules. Vega attacked me."
Silently, I was impressed. That sly son of a bitch had known I would crack down on this breach of my law with an iron fist and had made a point of not striking Vega back.
"Confirmed," Zed told me, his phone to his ear. He would have one of the security guards on the other end reviewing the CCTV footage already.
Vega looked gobsmacked, like he'd been set up. Then he shook his head in disbelief.
"Hades, please, give me a chance to explain myself." His face was sheet-white, despite his Hispanic complexion, and he spread his hands wide in open surrender. "He set me up. My whole shipment was stolen last night, and Tito was killed. It had Reapers written all over it." He swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing and sweat beading on his brow.
I stared at him for a long moment, letting him sweat in his panic. But I could already sense there was so much more to this than it appeared. Tito was Vega's cousin, but he treated him like a brother. I could understand how something like that might drive him into a drastic, stupid move like this.
Without a word, I lowered my gun, and Vega let out a huge sigh of relief. Far too soon, though, in my opinion.
"Take Vega and his men down to one of the old storerooms," I ordered my security team. "Hold them there until further notice."
"Hades, please..." Vega begged again, but my guards were already escorting him out of the club as I shifted my attention to Cass.
He hauled himself up off the floor, wincing at some damage Vega had managed to inflict, and blood was still smeared across his lower lip.
"Cass, take your boys over to the training building and wait for me there. I'll review the security footage and deal with you shortly." There was no polite request in my tone; it was a clear order. Do it or die.
His brows dipped in a scowl and arguments flashed through his dark gaze, but I gave him a granite stare back.
"You may not have broken the rules, Cassiel, but can you make that same claim for all of your guys?" I arched a brow, and his furious glare lit on the handful of Reapers who'd jumped in to—presumably—defend their boss.
He jerked a nod of understanding, then barked an order for his guys to follow as he left the club.
"Need us to keep an eye on them too?" one of my remaining security guards asked. Security was all run by Timberwolves because everyone needed a day job and what better use for highly-trained fighters and killers than nightclub security?
I shook my head, tucking my gun back in its holster. "No, Cass will do as he's told." Because he damn well knew he'd already pushed me too damn far. One more misstep and I really would shoot him. "Let's review the footage and leave them all to sweat it out a bit."
A couple of my guys were already helping the bar staff sweep up broken glasses and mop spilled drinks, so Zed and I made our way through to the security office where the footage was already up on the screens.
"Evening, boss." The bouncer stationed at the desk nodded, hopping up from his seat and offering it to me. "All cued up, ready to play."
Sitting down in his seat, I clicked the mouse to start the video, and the three of us watched it in silence. A couple of times I rewound, freeze-framed, then replayed, but it didn't take a lot of time to get a grasp on what had happened.
"What do you want done, boss?" Zed asked in a low murmur as I stood up from my seat once more.
I pursed my lips, thinking. "Let's deal with the Reapers first. Vega can stew in regret and panic a bit longer."
We needed to cross back through the main club on our way out of the security office, and it was satisfying to see everything back to normal, if a little less crowded than before. Still, it would take more than a bar fight to dampen the mood in a Copper Wolf club.
"What are you thinking?" Zed murmured as we stepped out into the darkness behind the Fun Zone. It was just the two of us, no one else around to hear us speak, so I shrugged.
"No fucking clue," I admitted. "I can't deal with replacing two gang leaders tonight. I know how Vega and Cass work. I know they're loyal... to a degree. I don't know or trust their seconds, so..." I trailed off, but he knew what I meant. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.
"They broke your rules, Hades. Publicly." As if I needed the reminder.
I shot him a glare as we strode across the shadowed park grounds toward the training building. "I'm well aware, Zed. They need to be punished for fighting in a neutral zone, but I just don't think I can afford to kill them."
Zed grunted. "Agreed. Fucking bastards couldn't have picked a better time to start this shit."
My thoughts exactly. With an internal sigh, I pushed open the door to the training room and pulled on my hardened face of death.
Cass and the four Reapers who'd been involved in the fight were waiting for me in the middle of the padded floor and I had to commend them for not flinching away from my cool gaze as I approached.
I stopped at the edge of the mats, not wanting to risk walking on the padding in my heels and possibly breaking an ankle. Cass met my stare and tilted his chin up in invitation like he was telling me to get on with it and make it quick.
Fucker thought I was going to shoot him and wasn't even scared.
I let the silence sit between us for a long, tense moment, and one of the Reapers shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"You're being taxed forty percent for the next four months. Ten percent and one month per infraction," I announced, my voice bouncing ominously off the walls of the vast room. "You can go."
The four bruised-up Reapers hesitated, giving Cass uncertain looks, but I was in no mood to be questioned.
"I said go," I snapped, my eyes narrowing at the gangsters in
fury.
This time, they did as they were told, mumbling apologies and promising it would never happen again. But Cass? Nope, he didn't move a muscle. He just stood there, stubborn as a damn mule, staring at me like he had something to say.
The door slammed after the fleeing Reapers, and I raised a brow at the infuriating shithead staring me down.
"Did I stutter, Cass? Or has your hearing gone in your old age?"
He grunted a sound of amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching, and he shifted his gaze to Zed at my side.
"Mind giving us a moment?" he rumbled the question to my second, but it really wasn't a question.
Zed scoffed. "Yeah. I mind."
A sly look crossed Cass's face. "You worried Hades can't handle herself against me? Sounds a whole lot like you're doubting her ability, Zed.”
Zed jerked in alarm, shooting a lightning fast look at me, then back at Cass. Talk about a catch-22—either concede to Cass's request and allow a momentary power shift between the two men... or undermine my authority by doubting my strength
"Zed," I said, sparing him the decision, "go and check on Vega. I'll meet you down there.”
The storeroom that my security would have the Death Squad secured in was one of many underground cellars that had been used to store props, machinery, stock... all sorts of crap when the property had been a functioning amusement park. We planned to seal up a lot of them, but occasionally they came in handy, like when I needed a holding cell for disobedient gangsters.
"Hades—" Zed started to say, then cut himself off with a sharp nod. "Understood, sir."
He hesitated a moment longer, like he had more to say, then stalked out of the training room with his spine rigid and left Cass and I totally alone.
"Well?" I prompted when the silence stretched. "In case you failed to notice, I'm a busy woman."
Cass's eyes narrowed, and he swiped a hand over his long stubble. "You don't want to ask if I had anything to do with Vega's shipment being stolen?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be letting you off with a tax." And he damn well knew it. But there was no way in hell the Reapers were starting a gang war right now, not while they were in the middle of a hostile takeover of the Wraiths, so I wasn't going to waste my breath questioning him over it.
I'd get all the information I needed from Vega directly.
Cass nodded, then reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a key. "Here," he said. "I picked this up for you."
I raised a brow at his extended hand but made no move to step closer and take it. My days of meeting Cass halfway—or more—were done. If he was trying to make some kind of weak peace attempt, he needed to try a hell of a lot harder.
With a frustrated sigh, he strode across the training mats until he was right in front of me, then took my hand, turned it over, and placed the key in my palm.
"Fat Bob needs some work, and you need something faster." He muttered the words like they were physically hurting him, and I looked down at the key with curiosity.
"You're giving me a new motorcycle?" I let out a sharp laugh, recognizing the Ducati badge on the key. "Seriously?"
His brow dipped deeper as he scowled down at me. He stood close enough that I needed to tip my head back to meet his gaze, and I caught the lightning-fast glance at the mark on my neck.
"Yes, seriously," he rumbled. "Call it an apology."
Now both my brows rose, and I shook my head slowly. "I can't think of anything that requires a new motorcycle as an apology, Cass. Unless you've broken any more of my rules that I'm not aware of?"
He scowled, not buying my bullshit. Not that I expected him to; my voice had been loaded with sarcasm as I'd said that.
"You're gonna make me spell it out?" he growled, frustration tightening his features. "Fine. I'm sorry. The way I spoke to you yesterday was unacceptable, and I..." He trailed off for a second, like he was searching for the right words. "I regret that choice."
Bitterness carried my tongue before I could hold it. "You seem to be regretting a lot of things lately, Cass. Maybe stop being a colossal cunt-plug in the first place, and you won't need to live with so many regrets." I held the key out to him, indicating that I didn't want it. "Take your guilt gift, and shove it up your tight ass, Cassiel Saint. I have no interest in being bought."
He just scowled harder and folded his arms over his chest.
Fucking hell. "What are you, twelve?" I rolled my eyes and stuffed the key back in his pocket myself when he refused to take it. "I've got places to be. Turn the lights off when you leave."
I spun on the toe of my shoe, my hair fanning out as I turned, then started stalking my irritated ass toward the door. Just when I thought Cass couldn't be more insulting, he tried to erase his poor behavior by buying me a bike? What the fuck even went on inside his head?
"Hades, wait," he called out after me, but I didn't take orders from him. So I barely even slowed my stride as I flipped him off and continued across the room. He caught up to me as I reached for the industrial bar handle, his own huge hand covering mine and holding it still. "Just... wait. Can we pretend for a minute like I didn't throw a live goddamn hand grenade at this thing between us yesterday?"
Well shit, now he had my attention.
"Sure, Cass," I replied with a wry, sarcastic laugh. "Let's pretend." My back was still to him, his hand over mine against the door, so I tugged my fingers free and turned around. "But let's get something perfectly clear. A couple of lukewarm kisses is not a thing between us."
His hand still braced against the door, he was right up in my personal space. I didn't even attempt to push him away, either. I was fucked up enough that his push-pull bullshit was actually keeping me interested, and I quietly loved having him looming over me close enough to kiss.
He huffed a short laugh. "Your definition of lukewarm must differ from mine, Red, because I remember them being hotter than hell."
"Get to the point, Cass. I have blood to shed tonight, and unless you want it to be yours..."
He stared down at me for a long moment, then nodded and stepped back. I thought he was backing down, but he just pulled a matte black butterfly blade from his pocket and held it out to me, handle first.
"Fine," he said. "If that's what it takes to prove my loyalty."
I took the blade from him, simply because I preferred to be the one holding the weapons, and squinted up at him in confusion. "How fucking hard did Vega hit you in the head?" I muttered. "You're not making any fucking sense, and I don't have time for word games. Say what you mean, or stop wasting my goddamn time."
His jaw clenched tight, and a growling sound came from his chest. "I want you to trust me, Hades. You need my help with this Lockhart mess, but I can't help if you keep me in the dark. So, what will it take? Do I need to bleed for you, like Zed did? If so, have at it." His words were clipped with anger and frustration, and he spread his hands wide, inviting me to... what? Stab him? Carve my initials in his flesh and decorate it with a love heart?
"Zed had earned my trust long before he almost bled to death, Cass," I told him, shuddering slightly as I remembered the state my best friend had been in at the end of the massacre. He'd been stabbed six times by Chase before I'd gotten to them, then had to lie there dying as I finished the fight.
Cass dropped his arms with a sigh. "Then what will it take?"
"Why do you care?" I shot back. "Just keep your own house clean, and this doesn't need to affect you in the least."
His expression turned murderous. "It will affect me plenty if you get killed, Red. I don't want you dead."
Surprise rippled through me, and I felt the need to push him harder. "No? Why not? Without me in charge, you could have free run of Shadow Grove. You wouldn't have me skimming from every aspect of your business and pushing you around like a big bully. Some might think you'd be a hell of a lot better off if I were dead."
He glared. "You know why."
I tilted my head to the side, spinning his knife around my
finger. "Do I? Spell it out for me. Maybe I'm too young to get it."
His jaw tightened again and his hands balled to fists at his sides, but no words exited his mouth. Stubborn fucking donkey.
"Forget it, Cass," I said with a disappointed shake of my head. "You want me to trust you, but you can't even admit how you feel. And no, Grumpy Cat, I didn't buy your bullshit for a damn second yesterday."
When he still said nothing, I twirled his knife again then flicked it closed. "Keep the bike," I told him. "I'll accept your knife as an olive branch instead—between platonic, professional acquaintances." I shot him a wink, then slid the folded blade into my cleavage for safe keeping. Sounded stupid—sticking a knife between my tits—but my outfit was severely lacking in pockets.
This time I made it halfway through the door before he cracked.
"You're right," he snarled. "I lied. I've wanted to kiss you for goddamn years."
I scoffed a laugh, turning back to face him but remaining in the doorway. "Just kiss? Come on, Cass. Don't go all innocent now."
"What do you want from me, a fucking love letter?"
A sly smile creased my lips. "Well, now that you've suggested it..."
His glare flattened in a way that almost made me laugh, but he didn't immediately tell me to get fucked.
"What about the rest?" he rumbled. "This attack on you and the Lockhart shit? I want to help."
I shrugged. "Write me that letter, and I'll think about it."
Cass blinked at me in disbelief, so I winked, blew him a kiss, and left.
If he thought it was going to be an easy comeback from that moody, hot-and-cold crap in my car yesterday, he was delusional. The path back into my good graces was going to be paved with broken glass and jagged rocks.
26
It took a couple of guesses to work out which storeroom Vega and his guys had been taken to, and I made a mental note to be more specific next time. Or speed up the timeline in sealing the rooms that were structurally unstable and unusable.