And you don’t.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about him…
Arthur locked eyes with his friend and mentor, transmitting so many things that I didn’t know. These men had history, a bond that went deep—deeper than anything I’d seen in any other relationship Arthur had.
Jealousy was an odd thing to feel, but I did. I was jealous that this man knew more about Arthur than I did. I was jealous that Arthur trusted him more than he did me. And I was insanely jealous of the loyalty Arthur had toward him—even over his loyalty to me.
Eight years apart had put me second place in his life. And I hated it.
The old man stretched his arm across the table, bearing a welcoming hand. “I’m Wallstreet. Real name is Cyrus Connors, but it’s best you call me what everyone else does.”
Slowly, I placed my hand in his. My eyes widened as he squeezed back with genuine pleasure and warmth. Untangling my fingers from his, I reclined in my seat, never taking my attention off him. “Nice to meet you.”
It would be nicer if I understood you.
Flicking a glance at Arthur, I tried to read the dynamic between our odd little trio. Wallstreet cared for Arthur—there was no question about that. But something deep inside me screamed that the perfectly poised older gentleman was a front. A carefully designed persona to hide the true depth of his deception.
Wallstreet mimicked me, leaning back with a grin on his lips. “I must say, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Price. Killian didn’t speak of you often, but I feel as I’ve known you for many years. And to see you alive—well, it’s rather intriguing after believing you were dead. I want to hear everything—I’ve always been a lover of mysteries.”
My heart picked up its tempo. “What do you mean by that?”
Did he have something to do with my demise?
He laughed, a dimple showing in his cheek. “I meant nothing. Only that you were a large part of Kill’s life. You molded him into the man he became—the boy I met all those years ago. Without you, he might never have escaped the violence of such a world and focused on his raw talents.”
My eyes narrowed. Wallstreet’s mannerisms nudged my subconscious. There was something there—a link to someone I knew—I just couldn’t unscramble it. Yet.
I looked to Arthur, who never stopped watching us, his head volleying with each spoken word.
“Your math. Is that what he’s talking about?”
He nodded. “You know my father hated me wasting time on it. He thought all I needed to know was how to shoot a gun and hurt people.” He cocked his chin at Wallstreet. “Without Cyrus, I wouldn’t have the wealth I do, the Club I run, or the masterpiece of revenge currently in play.”
Wallstreet sighed contentedly. “You truly were the best student I’ve ever taught. And loyal.” He leaned forward, patting Arthur’s hands on the table. “I trust you, my son. Despite the rumors I hear of you going against my orders.”
I turned into a statue.
He’s talking about my sale as if I were nothing more than merchandise.
“I’m sitting right here, you know.” I crossed my arms. “You’re seriously going to berate him for not selling me? For not giving me up after all the time we spent apart?”
“Cleo, cool it,” Arthur muttered. “There’s more to this than you know.”
Oh, for God’s sake. I was done.
“Yes! Apparently everything I seem to know is either wrapped up in things you won’t share or you’ll ‘tell me later.’ ”
“Funny, I didn’t think you would have a temper, Ms. Price.” Wallstreet smiled at me. “Kill always spoke so fondly of you.”
“Just because I stand up for myself, that gives a man grounds not to speak of me fondly?”
Who was this guy? After almost a decade of having no past to rely on to make judgments, I’d learned to listen to my instincts. And they bellowed at me to pay attention.
Arthur held up his hands. “Enough. Both of you.”
Wallstreet smiled, completely unruffled while I breathed hard and angry. “Forgive me. We’re getting off topic.” Looking at Kill, effectively blocking me out, he said, “The man destined to receive the sixth sale—”
“Sixth sale being me.” I glared.
Wallstreet tensed. “Fine, my dear, yes. The sixth sale—you—was meant for Mr. Steel. He was the final pin in the plan. But no matter; we have enough to proceed without it.”
Damn right they did.
I tried to calm down, to stop the boiling temper in my blood. After all, this man had protected Arthur when he’d had no one. A second father to him while he rotted in jail for a crime he still wouldn’t tell me.
Wallstreet was his foster parent, just like the nameless lovely people who’d taken me in.
Wallstreet looked at me again, blue eyes glittering. “You know, there’s destiny and then there’s inevitability. Similar concepts but completely different in execution. I believe this is a bit of both.”
My mind hurt trying to figure it out. “What?”
“Huh?” Arthur asked.
“You and her. Her and you. It was inevitable you would find each other, just like I believe destiny has a part to play in all epic love stories. The question is, have you paid enough to be free from suffering?”
“Who are you?” I whispered. He didn’t talk or act like a criminal. He sounded like a psychologist, a dreamer.
The longer I sat in his presence, the stronger I sensed him. I suspected a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive lurking beneath the fatherly pride he felt toward Arthur.
Wallstreet ran a hand through his white hair. “I’m nobody, Ms. Price. No one of relevance, anyway. Only a man with an eye for numbers and coincidences, just like your lover.”
Arthur gritted his teeth. “They broke in last night.”
The swift change of topic threw me for a moment; I struggled to catch up.
“Did they take it?”
“No. They didn’t find what they were looking for.”
Wallstreet stiffened. “Are you sure about that?”
Arthur growled, “I’m sure. What else could it be?”
Wallstreet’s eyes fell on me. I shifted in my seat as a cold gust of ice shot down my spine. “Forget it,” he said softly.
Looking back to Arthur, he added, “You don’t want to rush this. Years you’ve been planning. Don’t fuck it up when you’re so close.”
Planning? Planning what? I needed to know!
Arthur leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “I have no intention of fucking anything up. It’s time for them to pay. I gave them years. I did as you asked. It’s my turn—”
“You did what I asked so you could reap what is owed to you. Don’t forget I taught you the art of patience as well as trading, my son.”
Arthur pulled back, chastised. “I only meant that I have more than enough wealth. More than enough standing and goodwill in the local community. I have the politicians you wanted all on our side. I control the strings of everyone you ordered me to pull into our power. It’s time. I need to move before they try anything else. It’s war, and I want it on my terms.”
The energy he gave off singed my body—prickling with ominous foreboding. Something told me that the minor rebellion I’d interrupted when I first arrived would be nothing compared to whatever Arthur had planned.
Politicians? Power? He spoke of controlling men like puppets. I didn’t like this grim, cutthroat side of Arthur. I didn’t like that it had formed without me.
Unthinkingly, I rubbed the mostly healed burn on my arm as Lighter Boy popped into my head.
Wallstreet followed my fingers. His eyes narrowed. “That looks like it was painful. What happened, my dear?”
If I weren’t wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top, he would’ve seen just how painful my past had been—my scars never failed to paint a picture of horror.
I tensed.
His question held so much more than an innocuous enquiry.
My gaze locked with the older man, forcing past his perception. He stared right back, temper swirling below the surface.
Arthur answered for me. “It happened the night she came to me. We haven’t figured out the how or why yet.”
Wallstreet went deathly still. “How did you find each other again, after all this time?”
Wallstreet and I never looked away from each other; the more I stared, the more my apprehension grew.
I recognize you. But how?
Arthur shot me a look. “One of my crew picked her up. I was fed a bullshit story about where she’d been and who she was.”
Ah yes. The story that I was another one of his father’s mistresses—destined to pay for the sins of the man they chose to sleep with. Even though I understood Arthur’s reasoning on a personal level, it still didn’t make it right.
Wallstreet finally broke gazes with me, looking at his prodigal son. “So why did they deliver six instead of five?”
Arthur shrugged.
I wanted to wave. Me… sitting right here. Number six.
I glanced at the guard standing by the exit. It felt so wrong to be talking about trafficking in front of a man who had the law on his side.
I wasn’t a criminal or a bad person. Yet I’d fallen in love with a boy who did bad things and loved a man who seemed absolutely deadly.
And now I knew how he’d formed the hard exterior—the cold-blooded drive—it’d been taught by Cyrus “Wallstreet” Connors.
Wallstreet frowned. “Why?” Frowning, he added, “What was there to gain?”
Arthur’s muscles locked down. “They know.”
Wallstreet scooted closer, energy crackling even louder. “How would they know? How would they have found her after all this time?”
“Who the fuck knows, but they do. It explains everything.”
Wallstreet rubbed a hand over his face. “It is incredibly convenient that the sixth just happened to be from your past.”
Arthur froze, his hands curling on the table.
Wallstreet dropped his voice. “I hope this isn’t true, but you have a leak.” Looking my way, he muttered, “She’s from your past—the same past you’re trying to—”
“Motherfucker,” Arthur hissed.
Wallstreet nodded sanguinely. “Exactly.”
My mind spun, trapped in a cyclone of never making sense.
“Can someone please explain what the hell is going on?” I asked, not that I expected to get a response.
Wallstreet ignored me. “The original Corrupt members I vouched for are trustworthy—I have absolute faith in that. Have you welcomed any new members since?”
Arthur nodded. “A couple, but only after heavy screening and a long time as a Prospect.” His back bunched beneath his shirt. He’d had to leave his leather jacket in the coat check—no gang-related memorabilia allowed in the building.
“I can’t believe someone would do this. And why? After the wealth I’ve given them, the peace I’ve fought so fucking hard for.”
“Why?” Wallstreet chuckled. “Anyone who knows you knows your past is your driving force.”
“But that? Shit!”
The guard shuffled closer, his hand closing over a baton on his hip.
Wallstreet looked over his shoulder, smiling. “All good, Mark. Just a bit of human passion, is all.”
“Fair enough. Just keep it down.” The guard melted against the door again. The power Wallstreet had was impressive.
I piped up. “If you’re wondering who betrayed you, I know who took me.”
Silence fell like thick snow.
Why oh why didn’t I mention it before? It never came up. I’d been so enamored with reliving our love, I hadn’t had time to mention the man with the lighter.
Stupid.
“What did you just say?” Arthur asked, his face growing black.
Shit, if my emotions weren’t already stretched to capacity, I would’ve felt sorry for the man I was about to out.
My heart raced.
“Lighter Boy. I don’t know his name, but he was at the lunch when you came back after three days away. By the way, that reminds me. What were you doing for those three days?”
Now was not the time to ask, but the question fell out unbidden. He’d been bruised and reeking of alcohol. It seemed a little out of character—I couldn’t imagine him willingly becoming intoxicated; he liked control too much.
Probably because he was stripped of it when he was thrown in jail.
It was Wallstreet who replied. “He was doing what I requested. Not only has Killian taken my instruction and done more than I ever hoped, but he also runs an empire that has many facets.”
My hands balled. “What facets?”
Wallstreet smiled. “You know in your heart he isn’t just a biker. Sure, Pure Corruption is his family, as much as it is mine, but it’s beyond that now.”
Arthur grumbled. “Those three days I was socializing with a few contacts. Building friendships with men in power that will increase our reach. And, if you must know, I spent a lot of time at the beach where I took you last night… going over the past.”
My arms ached to hug him, while my mind was desperate to break open his brain and see the truth.
Wallstreet nodded. “Everything I’ve given Arthur is nothing compared to what he’s giving back. Kill is the smartest, most capable man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, Ms. Price. You should be immensely proud of all that he’s achieved.”
I crossed my arms, feeling possessive and pissed off. He spoke as if he owned Arthur. As if Arthur was nothing without the things he’d learned from Wallstreet. I knew differently. I’d had the pleasure of knowing the boy before he fell into Wallstreet’s clutches and I couldn’t separate my rage at having to share him with this man, and the common sense that Wallstreet had saved him.
“What does Lighter Boy look like?” Arthur asked, bringing the conversation back to focus.
Sighing, I said, “He plays with a lighter, has brown hair, hazel eyes, and is skinny.”
Arthur’s attention turned inward, figuring out which of his brothers was responsible.
I took his silence as another opportunity to trip Wallstreet up. “How long have you been in here?”
Wallstreet grinned, letting tension ebb. “Seventeen years. Been a while.”
So I can’t have known him from before.
“When will you get out?”
He shrugged. “That depends on God, I suppose. I have another five to serve, but I hope that will be reduced. However, I won’t know until I’m walking free from those gates.”
The way he moved nudged my thoughts again, begging to connect the dots.
“Alligator. Fucking Adam ‘Alligator’ Braxton,” Arthur suddenly growled.
“Ah yes. I remember you saying he’d been voted in by the brothers but you still withheld judgment,” Wallstreet muttered.
An image of the alligator tattoo on Lighter Boy’s neck came back to me. “Yep, that’s him.”
Wallstreet grinned, doting on Arthur as if he was his favorite pupil. “I trust you to take care of it.”
Arthur shuddered. “Damn right, I will. Fucking asswipe.” Snatching my hand on the table, he squeezed my fingers painfully. “He’s not coming near you again. I’ll call Grasshopper to track him and put him on lockdown.”
Wallstreet sat taller in his chair. “How is Grasshopper?”
My ears pricked.
“He’s well. Setting in place the final pieces to take down Dagger Rose.”
“That’s good,” Wallstreet said, his blue eyes bright with interest.
Then it all suddenly made sense.
The blue eyes, the dimple, the identical traits.
Oh my God.
They were related.
Grasshopper and Wallstreet are related.
My muscles trembled with the realization. I wanted to ask—to confirm my suspicions—but something held me back.
&
nbsp; Looking at Arthur, I tried to see if he knew the correlation between his right-hand man and the benefactor who’d brought him under his wing.
Arthur was president. He was the law in his world. But really he was as much a pawn as I was. The king sat across from us smiling and waving as perfect as any sovereign, getting others to do his dirty work, all while keeping his hands clean.
“What is it, my dear?” Wallstreet leaned forward, patting my forearm. “You look as if you’ve tasted something rather disgusting.”
I blinked, shoving away my conclusions and hoping I looked clueless. “Sorry, I was just thinking about Alligator and how he would’ve known I was me, even though I didn’t.”
Good excuse. And now I’d said it, I truly did wonder that.
God, my brain needed a rest. It was an overstretched rubber band that any moment would snap or lose all will to bounce back into normalcy.
Wallstreet nodded, understanding sharp in his gaze. “I can imagine all of this must be so hard for you. I think you ought to go, rest up so you don’t damage what progress you’ve made.”
Trailing his fingers off my forearm, he said to Arthur. “There are men and there are other men, Killian. Don’t confuse the two.”
What the hell did that mean? Once again my brain whirled.
I’d thought I was intelligent, but talking to this man made me feel like I’d just crawled from the first stages of evolution.
Arthur dropped his voice. “I’m paying them back for this. With or without your blessing. And I’ll make it up to you about Mr. Steel. Just give me a bit of time before you agree to whatever pissed-off demands he’s making.”
Wallstreet grinned. “Fair enough. And I do agree that you need to pay them back. It’s time. Don’t you think?”
Arthur bristled. “It’s been time for a while.”
Wallstreet cocked his chin. “In that case, you have my approval. Finish it, Killian. Teach those who ruined you that you now rule. Their kingdom is yours. Their lives are forfeit.”
A shiver disappeared my spine.
Arthur stood up. “I will.”
Wallstreet stood, too. They clasped hands.
“No touching!” The guard pushed off from the wall.
The men dropped the link, sharing a cold, secretive smile. “Let me know how it goes, son. I know you’ll find what you need once it’s finished.”
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