Consequence (The Confidence Game Duet Book 2)

by Rachel Higginson

  Atticus’s gaze moved on. Juliet crawled onto my lap again and my heart sank with the realization that she’d given up on the paring knife. The same guard from earlier stepped back over and eyed us.

  Without the knife, I decided to continue taunting Atticus. “Are you second in command with the Cubans too?” I sounded like I had a mouth full of marbles, but I pushed through the pain and discomfort. They were second thoughts at this point. Atticus didn’t respond directly to me, but he did call me a stupid girl in Russian to his men. “I asked the feds to arrest you yesterday, but they told me about your immunity plea. They offered me one too. I didn’t take it.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Atticus growled, looking as calm and annoyed as usual. It was his pupils I paid attention to, the way they flared with panic, the way they bore holes into my head from across the room demanding that I stop talking.

  It was true. I almost couldn’t believe it, but it was true. “I was too loyal to the brotherhood,” I said loud enough for all the guards to hear. “I mean, yeah, I ran, but that was for my daughter. I never turned anyone in.”

  “No, that was your traitor boyfriend,” Atticus growled.

  “And still, he never got in bed with the Cubans. What’s worse?”

  “The feds,” Atticus barked. “Obviously.”

  I grinned. I imagined I looked terrifying with my bloody mouth and bruised and swollen face. But I’d set the trap and he’d walked right into it. I was too weak right now not to gloat. “Well, you’ve done both, so I guess you’re the worst of us all.”

  “You stupid whore.” Atticus stormed across the bar and I knew this time would be fatal pain, death kind of pain. He had lost his mind. Whatever sense of logic and reason had been in his sick head had disappeared at my accusations. He was going to murder me. And it was going to hurt.

  Frankie threw herself off her barstool and stepped in his path, putting gentle hands on his chest. He couldn’t even see her at first, so he pushed her out of the way. She let out a scream of pain, finally grabbed his attention.

  In the next second, Juliet had scrambled off my lap and grabbed the paring knife. While Atticus dealt with Frankie on the ground, she put it in my hands and then sat back down on my lap.

  I sat there stunned for a minute at my daughter’s cleverness. Apparently, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I didn’t think a four-year-old had it in her to wait for the right opportunity. I was very wrong.

  Atticus picked Frankie up off the floor by clutching her forearms and planted her back on the bar stool. “I told you to quit causing trouble, bitch. Fucking listen to me.”

  I started to saw at the zip ties desperately trying to cut through the center of them. My hands were numb and the knife was ridiculously dull. Frustrated tears sprang to my eyes as I realized I didn’t have the time to get all the way through it before Atticus came back to hurt me.

  “Hurry, Mommy,” Juliet whimpered.

  It was the encouragement I needed, and I didn’t even think she knew what she was doing or how effective her sweet words were. I sawed faster, ignoring the agonizing tingle in my hands. The tight plastic started to give, allowing my hands more room to move. Progress!

  Atticus was suddenly over me. “What are you doing?” he growled. His gun clicked and he leveled the barrel with my left eye.

  Holy shit. This was it.

  “Get behind me,” I ordered Juliet. She didn’t hesitate.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” I warned Atticus. “Weren’t we friends once?” At his disgusted look, I quickly added, “Brothers then. I’m still bratva. I’m still syndicate.” Lies, lies and more lies, but lying was what I did. I couldn’t even help it.

  “You’re a traitor and a bitch,” he argued. “You’re the entire reason the organization fell apart. If you would have stayed, your boyfriend wouldn’t have spilled his guts to the FBI.” He gestured at the empty, dilapidated bar. “This is all your fault.”

  “Wrong,” a voice called from the other side of the room.

  Atticus and I turned together to see who it was and both of us were equally stunned to see Sayer on the other side of the room that was filled with his men. The Russians that had been guarding us, were held at gunpoint by Irish and Italians and Yakuza. There were Hispanic people too, but I didn’t know if they were Mexicans or Cubans or what.

  The gun stayed pointed at my head. “Just in time,” Atticus crooned. “I didn’t want you to miss the show.”

  Sayer tilted his head to the side, his eyes stayed trained on Atticus. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. He was too focused on the guy pointing a loaded gun at my head. “You need to get your facts straight first.”

  “What facts?” Atticus demanded impatiently.

  “About the feds,” Sayer continued. “I made the deal with the feds before Caroline left. I made it the night I was arrested.”

  “What?” I demanded, uncaring that this wasn’t really my conversation.

  “The second the pakhan asked me to take their fall, I made the deal. The bratva betrayed me. And today I will put an end to that betrayal for good.”

  “Fuck you, Sayer,” Atticus shouted.

  And that’s when all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Two things happened at once. Juliet grabbed the knife from me and sawed through the last of the zip tie, cutting my wrist in the process, but managing to set me free. A second later, Atticus lunged at me, pulling me up be the hair to dangle me in front of Sayer and his army of men.

  I let out a scream, tugging desperately at Atticus’s wrist to relieve the pain in my head. He clutched tighter forcing my back to bow and me to stand on my tiptoes.

  “Let her go,” Sayer growled.

  I knew Atticus was smiling by the sound of his voice when he replied, “You still think you’re in charge. You still think everyone does what you say because you’re some big fucking man.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched Juliet run to the stairs where a man was motioning for her to come to him. My vision was still blurry with pain and tears, but I managed to recognize my dad peeking his head around the corner of the stairwell. Relief washed through me and fresh tears pushed to the surface.

  He was such a shitty dad. Such a piece of crap. And here he was; he’d pulled my daughter to the side of this hellhole situation, and I forgave him for everything instantly. Just like that. Nothing mattered, not my childhood or his betrayal when Sayer went to prison. Nothing but what he’d done for Juliet just now.

  He pulled her up the stairs with him and they disappeared, away from this mess and intense danger. Juliet was safe. That was all that mattered. Atticus could do what he wanted to me now.

  Atticus pressed his cheek to mine where he’d hit me earlier making me wince. “Let’s see what kind of big man you are when I take your favorite toy away from you.” I gagged at the forceful press of his gun to the underside of my chin. “I guess in the end she wasn’t worth all that trouble, right?” His laugh was dark, full of malice, full of the sickness in his head that had defined his entire life. His body pressed against mine, closer and purposeful. He wanted to piss Sayer off as much as possible. He knew the game was over, but he couldn’t help himself. If he was going down, I was going down with him. “You should have stuck with the brotherhood, Wesley. You shouldn’t have let this bitch get in your way.”

  I’d had enough. That was the final straw. I tightened my grip on the paring knife that was still in my right hand and twisted my body, dislodging the gun from beneath my chin. Without remorse or guilt, I rammed the dull knife into Atticus’s side with all of my strength.

  His side was softer than the other parts of him, but I had to push with everything to get it to dig deep inside him. He stumbled back, surprised by the stab of the knife and my gall and the events transpiring.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he shouted as blood started to stain his shirt in stretching fingers of crimson. He lifted the gun and
I screamed at the same time a gunshot rang through the bar.

  Bodies crumpled to the ground and I slowly realized I was one of them. Everything hurt so badly, I knew I had been shot. However, when I opened my eyes, I saw Atticus lying next to me. Blood was everywhere on the floor, soaking into the wood and spreading in a slow circle toward me. It was him. He had been shot, not me. I army-crawled away from him as quickly as possible, taking mental stock of my body and any new injuries.

  Picking up Atticus’s gun as I went, I managed to make it beneath the table I found the paring knife under and curled into the fetal position.

  “You fucking asshole!” Atticus screamed from the floor, his voice choked with blood and agony. I sat up a little, seeing that he had been shot in the stomach. He was down, but not out. “I will fucking kill you.”

  Sayer stood over him, his gun trained on Atticus’s head. “I think you already tried that.”

  “You’re a goddamn traitor,” Atticus snarled. “Italians, Irish… You’re a fucking whore.”

  “No more so than you,” Sayer said. “Which reminds me.” He turned to face his army of organized crime. The Hispanic men that were with him stepped forward. Cubans. They walked over to take custody of Atticus. “Your new family is here to take care of you.” He stepped back, out of their way and two of the guys picked up Atticus by the arms and shoved a black bag over his head. “Oh, wait, that’s wrong” Sayer dipped his chin, his face the portrait of revenge—“they came here to kill you. That’s why they’re here.” He squatted down so Atticus could hear him clearly. “See, your Cuban friends have been working with the Irish for years. And the Irish have been working with me from the fucking beginning. The only reason they wanted anything to do with you is because I told them to humor you. And they did. But you probably shouldn’t have made that deal with the feds. And you really shouldn’t have bargained for immunity. They’re pissed about that.”

  Atticus shouted desperately in Russian. He thrashed his body, forcing more blood to gush from his wound and screamed more foreign words. Help me, he was saying. Shoot them! Save me. I’m your boss! He was dragged from the room leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

  Nobody moved. Nobody tried to help him. Either his men were still being held at gunpoint or they agreed that the Cubans should have him.

  Sayer turned to look at me and we shared a brief but intense look. He lowered his gun so, so slowly. He didn’t believe the threat was actually over.

  “Six,” he finally whispered, falling to his knees in front of me. His hands cupped my face, barely touching because of the bruises and obvious pain. My face must have resembled an eggplant by now. “Fucking hell, you scared me.”

  “I didn’t know if you would get here in time,” I hiccupped, not meaning to cry, but unable to stop myself.

  “As if anything could keep me from you,” he growled. “You should know that by now.”

  I trembled with relief and residual fear and aching gratefulness. “How did you know?”

  “He wanted me to know,” he murmured as if it didn’t even matter. “He thought I would show up with Gus and watch you die. He didn’t know I have my own brotherhood, that I made my own family. He didn’t realize how hard I would fight for you or the lengths I would go to keep you safe. He doesn’t understand that what we have is stronger than him, stronger than the bratva, this city, and the whole fucking world. He underestimated us, Six. And that was his fatal mistake.”

  I crawled into his lap and ignored the discomfort so I could press myself against his body. My injuries and misery didn’t matter in light of the man that had saved me, this man that loved me so much.

  Conlan appeared over us, flanked by a man with olive skin and a scar down the length of his neck, and a young Japanese man with vibrant red hair. This had to be Luca Rossi and Ryuu Oshiro. “The cops will be coming,” Conlan said, his Irish brogue heavier than usual. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Go,” Sayer ordered. “We’ll clean this up.”

  “They won’t trust you now,” the man that must be Luca added in a quiet voice. “You admitted to working with the feds. There’s nothing we can do for you now.”

  Sayer held me closer, pressing me against his chest. “That’s all right. I’m done with this town anyway.”

  “After everything?” Ryuu asked with obvious incredulity. “After all the work that you’ve done?”

  Sayer smiled up at him. “I have more important things to do now.”

  “Mommy!” Juliet screamed at that moment, running from the stairs to where we sat in a pile on the floor. She clamored on top of me and threw her arms around my neck. “Daddy, you came!”

  Sayer wrapped his arms around both of us. “Go,” he told his friends. “Get your men out of here.”

  “Goodbye then,” Conlan said, and even though I barely knew him, I could hear the finality in his voice. “Enjoy this life of yours.” Sayer released one hand to shake Conlan’s.

  Luca reached down and took Sayer’s hand. “If you need anything…”

  Sayer nodded. “The same for you.”

  Ryuu was next. “Brother,” he murmured.

  Sayer held his gaze and his hand. “Brother.”

  The room exploded in chaos as the families dispersed, and Gus and Cage moved to help Frankie who had collapsed on the floor near the bar. The three families disappeared, and we were left with the remaining Russians and my dad.

  Sayer eventually set Juliet and me aside, so he could stand. A giant man walked over, one that I recognized from my youth. He was older now and some of his bulk had dwindled. But he was still the hulking presence I remembered from the back of the bar.

  “Bear,” Sayer greeted, extending a hand in respect.

  Bear took it, a suspicious, untrustworthy look on his face. “What they say about you is true.”

  Sayer nodded. “I had to protect my family.”

  A small smile tilted one side of Bear’s mouth, transforming his face to a lighter, less-scary version of him. “I remember. Since you were this tall.” His hand moved to his chest area. “It’s always been about her.”

  “Always,” Sayer agreed.

  “You owe me a favor,” Bear said. Fear knotted my insides again, just like that. What was this gigantic man going to ask? What was he going to demand of Sayer?

  Sayer seemed to have the same fear, only he hid it better than me. “I do.”

  “I want the syndicate.”

  I think Sayer was as shocked as I was, because it took him a moment to respond. “You do?”

  “I do,” Bear said. “I want your promise that you’ll never come back. That I’m free to do what I want with it.”

  “The feds—”

  Bear shrugged, cutting him off. “The feds will think it’s over with Usenko’s death. They won’t bother me. They never have.”

  Sayer nodded, appreciating this man’s opportunism. “It’s yours. Take it. I have no use for it anymore.”

  “Leave town,” Bear ordered. “And leave the feds alone from now on.”

  “Today,” Sayer promised. “You won’t see us again.”

  Bear nodded. He looked down at me once as if trying to figure out what was so special about me. He didn’t get why Sayer would do what he did for little old me. He didn’t understand what he risked everything for.

  He had no idea.

  What Sayer and I had could not be replicated, could not be faked. This was real, the realest thing in my entire life. I had been stupid before, paranoid and doubting and afraid. But those days were over. Sayer was mine. And I was his. And this family of ours was the beginning and the end of everything for us.

  The risk, the danger, the game… all of it was worth it to keep us together. I knew that now. I believed it.

  And nothing would change my mind ever again. Not present dangers or secrets from the past. Not confessions or truth or lies or anything. We’d had to go through hell before I believed it, but here we were. And here we were going to stay.

  Bear and
his men left, leaving the six of us and my dad behind. There was blood all over the floor and a thousand terrible memories that had come from this place, but there were good memories too. And even some great ones.

  And there was Sayer. He had come from this place. He had become something to me in this place. And for that reason alone, I could never hate it as much as I should.

  “Frankie, are you okay?” I asked her from across the bar.

  “No,” she said. “Are you?”

  I laughed and it hurt. “No.”

  “Are you alive though?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “We’re alive,” I told her. “And so are you.”

  “Good,” she sighed, letting Cage help her stand up. “Let’s go home.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more but before we could escape the premises the cops flooded in. Their guns were raised and they shouted all the cop things that they were supposed to, terrifying Juliet all over again.

  We went through the motions of raising our hands in the air and lying face down on the floor. Juliet cried and screamed for me the entire time, but I knew this time she was safe at least. Shortly after our Miranda rights were given to us, the feds walked in, Mason Payne leading the pack. He got the cops to back off and we were able to stand up and start the arduous process of getting through this day.

  The paramedics attended to us first, while Mason got the cops to back off. Then we were given rides to the police station since his office still wasn’t in working order. Juliet clung to me the entire way and as much as my hurting body would let me, I clung back.

  Three hours later, I was alone in an interrogation room with Mason while Sayer and Frankie watched Juliet somewhere else in the building.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” I asked point blank. I didn’t have the energy to play games anymore. I just wanted his answer.

  Of course, Mason wouldn’t give it to me. “Should I arrest you?”