Game of Vengeance

by Amanda K. Byrne

  “Hate to break it to you, Cass, but you’ll never be normal.”

  And there goes my good mood. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “If you were normal, would you be here?”

  I straighten and pick up a menu. “Here, in an Italian restaurant? Doubtful, though I’m sure I would have eaten in one at some point.”

  “Stop being a brat.” The mild tone is deceptive. He slides a finger under my chin and turns my face toward his. “If you were normal, I wouldn’t have met you. So I’m pretty fuckin’ glad you’re not.” His face is inches from mine, the heat of his body cloaking me.

  “I tried to kill you.” It comes out breathy and feeble, a ghost of a protest, because he’s right. If I were normal, I’d never have had a reason to meet Dominic Kosta, businessman or crime boss.

  “You didn’t try very hard,” he murmurs, finger stroking the length of my throat.

  The words rear up and rush the barrier, breaking through. “I love you.”

  His hand stills.

  This is…not good.

  Chapter 13

  Why is there never a roll of duct tape handy when you need one? If I had some, I could have slapped it over my mouth, keeping the I love you inside where it belongs. My brain must have decided all the sweet lines and tender gestures meant it was safe to tell Nick.

  The way he’s sitting, frozen, eyes wide and blank, says otherwise.

  His mouth opens, and I cover it with my hand. “Wait. The only thing I want to hear coming out of your mouth on this particular topic is that you love me too. If you can’t say that, if you don’t feel that way, then we’re dropping the subject now. Non-negotiable.” I don’t want to hear a thank you or a I care for you. The only thing that will make what I said okay is for him to repeat it and mean it.

  I lower my hand, and he parts his lips. “Cass.”

  “Yes?” My heart stutters, turns over, and jumps into triple-time.

  The intensity of his gaze and the twitching of his lips make me think he’ll say it back. But then he straightens and picks up his menu.

  I’m surprised my heart doesn’t make a splat as it lands on the ground at his feet. I open the menu and stare blindly at the choices. You asked for this, you idiot. As much as it hurts, hearing nothing is better than hearing platitudes. Hearing nothing allows the hope to flicker a little longer, that someday he’ll tell me the same thing.

  I tighten my grip on my menu. Dinner will not be awkward. I can get through dinner, and then I’ll find somewhere else to go for the evening. The problem with that is I don’t know where I can go. Most of my friends are likely studying for finals, and I don’t want to deal with Turner just so I can spend some time with Mom. My stomach sinks as I realize Denise hasn’t returned my earlier text, and Bas, whoever he is, hasn’t called in his report. Our server comes by, and we place our orders.

  Once he’s gone, I turn to Nick. “Shouldn’t Bas have called you by now?”

  “Visual confirmation can take longer. If he hasn’t called by the time we’re done with dinner, I’ll call him. May I see the picture again?” I pull it up, and he takes the phone from me. “Any idea when this might have been taken?”

  The phone buzzes in his hand, and he passes it back. The text is from Lia, wanting to know if I’m all right. A perfect distraction, one that will keep me from worrying too much about Denise and get me away from Nick for a while. I shoot off a reply, ask if she wants to hang out tonight, and mention I’d love some girl time, since I’ve spent so much of it lately hanging out with the boys.

  It rings a few seconds later. “Oh my God, yes. Please come over. I’m going a little nuts.”

  I slide a glance at Nick, who’s pulled out his own phone. “Give me an hour? Having dinner. I’ll be over once I’m done.” She promises to text me the door code and her apartment number, and I hang up. “Do you mind dropping me at Lia’s when we’re done eating?”

  He shifts around on the bench until he’s facing me. “Avoiding it won’t make it go away.”

  I’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in my life. I drop my gaze to my lap. “I know. I just wasn’t ready to say it. It sort of popped out on its own.” My mouth snaps shut hard enough my teeth clack together. Way to go, Cass. Way to take an awkward situation and make it more awkward. “I mean it. I do. It’s just scary, and there’s other shit to worry about and—”

  Nick presses a hand over my mouth. “Bas just checked in. Denise is fine.”

  This time, the relief is so great it’s crushing. I ease away. “Okay,” I whisper. “Can you help me? I need her protected, and I don’t know how to accomplish that without telling her who I am, which I’d really like to avoid. Top scenarios for me are moving Denise and Charlie to a safe house of some sort, telling Denise and Charlie to leave town for a while, or having a few of your guys pull some hidden bodyguard duty.” I look down as our server puts plates in front of us. The rich, heavy scent of spiced tomato sauce has my stomach clenching. I pick up my fork and poke at my food.

  “There are problems with all three of those,” I continue. “The first two involve telling Denise what I’ve done. The third involves trusting your men, not to mention sparing them in the first place, which I don’t even know if you have the capacity to do that.”

  “You do make it sound like I’ve got some sort of army at my disposal.” I stick my tongue out at him, and he grins. “I can spare a couple of guys. It’d be helpful if Denise and Charlie left town for a little while. I can’t do it for long, and having them sit on people that, until now, haven’t been connected will look suspicious.”

  “Then don’t,” I say immediately. “Charlie’s family lives in Colorado. He’s probably going home for the holidays anyway. I’ll talk to Denise.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “I’d rather you use them to get Isaiah or his guys to come out and play like big boys.” I push the food around on my plate. “Maybe you could have a rumble? You know, with chains and stilettos and everything? You’d have to practice that sideways prowl thing like they do in West Side Story, though. I think snapping in time is difficult if you’ve never done it before.”

  He lays a hand over mine, quelling my nervous movements. “Cass.”

  My emotional rollercoaster careens around a corner and drops to the bottom before slamming to a halt. I push away my plate and cover my face with my hands. “One day,” I whisper. “One. Fucking. Day. One day where I’m not being followed, my best friend isn’t in danger of being killed, and I don’t want to sneer at my mother for being so weak.” I peek through my fingers at the pasta. “I should get that boxed up. Wasting it would be stupid.”

  Nick slips an arm around my hips, and I stiffen. “Please don’t.” My voice cracks, and I swallow a few times, trying to clear the ache in my throat. “I really don’t want to be touched right now.” I don’t have tears. Not for this. All these emotions tumbling around, but no tears.

  The frightening one is the sadness. It’s an anvil, ready to drop, ready to crush. Once it lands, I can’t say I’ll have the strength to put myself back together.

  If this is what falling in love has gotten me, I’d like a time machine. It’s not worth it if everything falls apart around me.

  We finish dinner in relative silence. At Nick’s pointed glare, I pick at my food, forcing more of it down. It lumps together in my stomach. The server comes by with the check and a to-go box, and I dump the rest of my meal in the box before Nick can pry my lips apart and force-feed me.

  The drive to Liana’s building is worse. The silence has a sound to it. A long, somber note, like a cathedral bell tolling its final clang. I break it as he pulls to the curb in front of the apartment. “Can I borrow some cash? I’ll take a cab home so you don’t have to come get me.”

  He hands it over without speaking, gives me an absent kiss on the cheek, and I climb out of the car and hurry over to the door. I punch in the code and step into the lobby, then locate
the stairs.

  The stairwell is brightly lit. I stand at the bottom, listening, ready to duck back out at the slightest suspicious noise. Hearing none, I begin the climb to Lia’s apartment on the sixth floor.

  I’m out of breath, and there’s a stitch in my side when I reach her floor. Legs shaky with fatigue, I prop myself up against the wall, waiting for my lungs to stop heaving.

  Lia answers the door with a bottle of wine in her hand. She hands it to me. “Here. You need to catch up.”

  I study the bottle. It’s a red, and there’s already a good quarter of it gone. I shut the door behind me. “Why am I catching up?”

  She snags a half-full wine glass from the coffee table and throws herself onto the couch, her dark hair flying around her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her accusatory glare stabs into me, and my blood turns to ice. I’ve already told her everything, from being hired to kill her brother to her cousin almost killing me. Though it’s possible I could have forgotten something. A lot’s happened in the last two months.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That dating an older guy will drive you absolutely fucking insane,” she wails.

  That’s it? I flop onto the other end of the couch. She’s got nice furniture. The couch is ridiculously comfortable yet stylish, set off by coordinating end tables and lamps. Must be one of the perks of being a mafia princess. I set the bottle on the table. “Mmm, nope. Pretty sure it won’t. Although maybe I’m doing it wrong.” Her look of misery is comical enough to make me snort. “Look at you, all swoony and pine-y. What’s going on?”

  She shrugs. “Twenty’s a weird age. You’re straddling the line between a teenager and an adult, you know? I can drink and get into places, but I have to make sure I’ve got my fake ID on me and not my real one, which is a pain in the ass. Better safe than sorry.” She blows a strand of hair off her face. “I had a friend get busted for that just a few weeks ago, having both IDs on her at the same time.”

  “Wait, is Noah giving you crap about your age?”

  Her eyes widen. “No! He couldn’t care less. It’s more…” Her hands flutter in a useless gesture. “He’s confident. He knows what he’s doing and where he’s going. He’s got a regular job and doesn’t spend his weekends partying and has his own place, doesn’t have a roommate.” She drops her gaze to her lap. “We haven’t had sex yet, and I know he wants to, but I’m, um, not ready.”

  It feels incredibly wrong to be as happy as I am about Lia’s problems, but I can’t help it. All my issues fade into the background as I curl my legs under me. “Honestly? I don’t think it’s necessarily an age thing. My best friend’s boyfriend is pretty driven, too, but he’s still got a semester to go before graduation. I think it’s the person, not their age.”

  The misery stays firmly in place, though. “Great. But what do I do about the sex?”

  Why does everything have to come down to sex? “I don’t know. What do you do about the sex? Besides have it?”

  She shoots me the bird and reaches for her wineglass, a flush sweeping over her cheeks to her ears.

  She’s not… “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

  “Ding ding ding! Give the girl a prize,” she says sourly.

  There’s a bowl of half-eaten popcorn on the table. I lean over and snag it. With the anxiety and sadness dulled, my appetite’s back, and I’m starving.

  “Are you, like, impatient to just get it over with, or is there a reason you’ve waited so long?” I scoop out a handful of popcorn.

  She holds out a hand, and I pass over the bowl. “Kind of both? Sometimes I wonder why I’ve held on to it for so long, and then the chance presents itself and I freak out.” She dips her hand into the bowl and picks up a few kernels. “Noah knows, and he says he’s willing to wait, but I’m still scared he’ll get tired of waiting.”

  Her fear feels familiar, a vague itch I can’t scratch because I can’t find it. “Sometimes,” I say slowly, “the differences aren’t there. We’re just Nick and Cass. We like each other and have fun together and have some amazing chemistry.

  “He asked me to come to a business dinner with him, back before everything went to hell. Sitting at that table with the two men and their wives, I had nothing to contribute to the conversation. I was almost glad when someone started shooting up the restaurant.” I motion for the bowl of popcorn. “It sucks, because no matter how secure I feel about us, there’s always that fear that it won’t be enough.” I crunch down on popcorn. “So I’m just going to enjoy it while I can. Of course, I’d enjoy it more if Isaiah would just stop trying to kill me, but whatever.”

  Lia rolls her eyes. “Oh, right, ‘whatever.’” Then she giggles and ducks when I throw popcorn at her.

  My phone buzzes, wiggling across the tabletop. Constantine’s number flashes on the read-out. I thumb the lock off. “Please tell me nothing’s wrong.”

  “What the fuck happened today?” he growls.

  “Um, nothing? I picked up a stalker at the mall, but that’s about it. Why?” Lia’s eyebrows lift almost to her hairline.

  “Because my cousin’s hijacked my best bottle of whiskey and refuses to tell me why. Just sits there muttering. Heard your name a few times.”

  I’m as confused as he is. We weren’t fighting when he dropped me off. We weren’t talking, either, but that’s beside the point. “He’s a big boy. You could wait until he’s wasted to ask him. He’ll probably tell you then.” I tip the phone down. “Might need to crash on your couch tonight. Would that be okay?” I ask Lia. Whatever crawled up Nick’s ass doesn’t sound pleasant, and if Constantine’s telling the truth, I’m likely the cause.

  “Oh fuck no. You are not leaving me alone with Dom. He gets drunk when he’s in this kind of mood; he gets fucking morose. You can deal with him.” He curses, and there’s scrabbling in the background. “Come home and wrangle your boyfriend, Cass. I’m not in the mood to deal with him.” He hangs up, and I stick my tongue out at the phone.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Nick’s drinking himself drunk, and his cousin’s pissed about it.” I get to my feet. “Since I’d like to have a place to live for a while longer, I probably should do as he says.”

  I call a cab, and Lia walks me to the door, uncertainty gleaming in her eyes. I hug her. “Do you trust Noah?”

  She nibbles on her thumbnail. “No. Not completely. Not yet.” She lowers her hand and sighs. “That’s the big thing, isn’t it? Trust? I have to trust that he’s telling the truth that he’ll wait as long as I need?”

  “Pretty much,” I confirm. “Wow, I feel so old and wise. This is awesome.” She pokes me in the side, and I dance away. “It’s either that, or trust your instincts, and sometimes that’s harder to do than trusting someone else.”

  She bows from the waist, palms toward me. “O wise one, I heed your counsel.” A snicker escapes, and she straightens. “Go on. Give Nicky hell. He probably deserves it.”

  Somehow I doubt that.

  Chapter 14

  Nick doesn’t even glance over when I walk in the door. He remains sprawled on the couch, staring out the window, glass in hand. I wander to the other end of the couch and plop down. “So. Constantine calls me all growly and says you’re being morose.”

  He mutters and sips his drink, his gaze never leaving the damn window. Scoot closer or stay where I am? There’s this tension in the air, like a vibrating guitar string, but instead of trailing off at the end of a long note, it holds a high, thready hum. Giving up, I go in search of Constantine.

  I find him in a study much like Nick’s, wires and cables everywhere, making the room seem small and cluttered. Three monitors display photos, a spreadsheet, and what looks like some sort of news stream. A lamp in the corner doesn’t do much to improve the look of the space. I lean on the doorjamb and tuck my hands into my pockets. “Okay. I’m here. Tell me again what I’m supposed to do?”

  He spins his chair around and scowls a
t me. “He’s still out there drinking, isn’t he?”

  “And not saying anything intelligible,” I add.

  “Last time he got like this was when Cece gave him an ultimatum. Stop hiding things from her, or she’d leave.”

  Obviously, he’d let her go. If this is a repeat of that, he didn’t handle it well. But I hadn’t given him an ultimatum. I just asked him to keep his mouth shut.

  “I’ll…try talking to him, I guess.” I spin around and hurry out to the living room. Nick hasn’t moved. Standing in front of him, I lean forward and bring my face close to his, my hands on his thighs for balance. “Constantine’s pissed you’re drinking all his whiskey.”

  He snorts.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whisper. “Is it because of what I said earlier? When I asked you not to say anything back?” I take the glass from his hand and knock back the rest of the whiskey, hissing at the burn. Then I climb onto his lap and straddle him.

  He’s wearing a button-up shirt, and I focus on the top button. It’s easier than looking at him. “This was never supposed to be about feelings.” I maintain my whisper, not because I don’t want his cousin to hear, but because I’m afraid if I speak any louder, it’ll get more real. “I never thought I’d get that luxury. That I’d meet someone who could know everything. You come along, and it’s so tempting to let it all out, dump it all over you. I’ve got all these feelings bottled up, Nick. I can’t turn them loose. We’ll both drown.

  “I don’t think I could handle it if you said something like ‘thank you.’ Or that you care about me.” Fury over the imagined slight rips through me. “I’m just not that into you, baby. Saying you care is the way you soften the blow. If you don’t say anything, I can at least pretend you might feel the same way and don’t have the balls to tell me.”

  He snorts again. “How is that better?”

  The button’s a little chipped. I trace the edges with my finger. “Because everything’s better inside my head.”