“I thought you were clear on that.”
“Do you care about anything at all? Or do you see everything as what you’re owed? The great Quinn Cane and his family. Untouchable.”
“Clearly not, seeing as you put a bullet in my brother’s fucking chest.”
I blanch at his words. He’s right. I took Josh’s life. I have no right to be hurt at the way Quinn is treating me now. The old Emily, before Quinn, would curl up and let the guilt eat her alive. But the guilt weighs heavier than the shame I’ve struggled to understand. I might have been afraid, I might have been a mess, but I can’t let everything consume me.
“No, not untouchable. I’m sorry.”
“I know. You don’t have to worry. There won’t be any repercussions. You can move on with your life, free and easy.”
“You think it will be that simple?” I look up at him, hoping to see some version of a struggle on his face as he answers my question.
“Yeah.” He turns away as he responds, going back to pacing the room, unable to contain his agitation. I know he's not being truthful. I heard his words last night.
Despite everything that’s happened tonight, somewhere, deep in my chest, I feel relief that Quinn’s here. It’s such a confusing feeling that it makes me want to collapse back onto the bed and switch off. But I can’t. I have to face this head on, or I fear I’ll never pull myself out.
Quinn needs to hear some home truths. He can hide behind words and threats all he likes, but I know him. I saw behind the gangster. I just have to reach him again. “I think you’re a coward.” They are the bravest words I’ve ever dared say. He swings his head back to me, a glare on his face. “What? No answer to that? Why are you even in London? To check up on Josh?”
“That’s not your concern anymore,” he mutters.
“It is, and you know it. You’re more than a coward. You deceive people. You pretend to be someone you’re not, and then when you get people to believe in you, you disappoint them.”
“You need to watch your mouth, Em. I’m not fucking kidding.”
“It’s what Josh thought of you. All he wanted was to work beside you as his brother. He looked up to you, wanted to be you, and you pushed him away.”
“Yeah, I did. And he still ended up dead.” He stabs his finger at me, his face scowling as his true feelings show.
I wrap my arms around my legs, pulling comfort from my core as I try to muster my strength. “Why didn’t you shoot me, Quinn?” My voice sounds harder as I question him.
“You know, perhaps I damn well should have.”
For once, my eyes narrow and harden at his words. They don’t frighten me anymore. He doesn’t frighten me.
“You’re pushing me away. I know you see me as more than just a debt paid. You gave that up a while ago. You did the same in Chicago.”
He dismisses my words by turning to pace the room, his body like that of a caged animal. My muddled brain may be struggling to comprehend all of what’s happened, but it’s clear on one thing, and that’s making Quinn see the truth between us. No more false pretences, no lies, all the layers peeled back. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t feel something for me. You would have killed me for what I did to Josh if I were anyone else. I need you to admit that to me, Quinn.”
He scoffs.
“I think you’re scared. Scared of what your life’s become and of letting anybody close to you.” He shakes his head, both hands rising to grab at his hair. “You live by the rules you’ve created through your business world, using your name as a shield and a weapon against anyone you want. But not me, Quinn. You let me in.”
“I treat you like a whore, and you think that means something?” His frustration pours from him. He looks at me with so little respect I question my sudden clarity of mind, but know that I’ll never truly be free of Quinn unless this is all out in the open.
“Then why didn’t you share me with your brothers? Isn’t that what you do? Josh told me he always had your girls after you—that it was a Cane thing to share the skirt around.” Silence greets my statement, his eyes narrowing at me. I’ve not moved from my position on the bed, and I’ve kept my voice calm and quiet. “You kept me away from Josh, Quinn. You did that for me.”
“Don’t read too much into anything, Em.”
I pull the covers back and stand, my legs holding under my weight. “You stopped the Russian from raping me; you let me sleep with you, gave me free reign in the house, even took me on a bloody date.” I keep up my list of evidence to show the man who holds a fragile piece of me that he might think he’s a monster who lives in the dark, but he has something inside of him that is honest and isn’t tainted by the world he runs.
“Shut up. Shut. Up.” He turns to face me. “You want to know how I feel? My blood is itching in my veins to strangle the life from someone. I could pound my fists into faces until breath becomes irrelevant.” He sneers, his body rigid as he gazes over me and glares again. “And here you are, Emily. The one who killed him.” I try to stand firm, but my legs tremble under his stare. “Believe me, I’m doing everything I can not to take this frustration out on you.” His jaw clenches as he grinds the words out, leaning into me. I hold my own and force myself not to react to his intimidation.
He scrubs his hands through his hair and storms towards the door. Before his hand can reach the handle, I call out to him.
“Why don’t you then?” He doesn’t move. “Come on, Quinn. You know how to do it. Get on with it.”
His back expands, and I see all the tension vibrating through his body.
“You carry on with your fucking mouth and I might.”
I wonder if calling his bluff may be the last thing I do. He’s so still, silent, and I fear all of his pain is going to erupt and need a target.
“I don’t believe that.” It’s the truth. He won’t hurt me. Not anymore.
My feet pad across to him and I stand behind him. My heart hammers in my chest as my body registers the danger. I reach out my hand, hesitantly, before finally placing it on his back, and turn around his imposing frame to get in his line of sight. I draw my fingers across his face and find his scar, trying to reach the man I know is behind it.
“You’ve made me do things I’ve never even thought about in my fantasies. You’ve turned me into someone I don’t recognise, that I’m ashamed of when I think about it for too long. But I won’t deny my feelings.” He just stares. No words. Nothing to help me, as I draw my hand down his body. “They’re dark and twisted, Quinn, but they all lead me back to you. To this.” I push on his heart, feeling it pound in his chest. “For some reason, you built me up through all of this and made me stronger. Strong enough to kill, and I killed for you. Do you hear me, Quinn? I shot Josh to protect you.” His brow rises slightly. “I wouldn’t have done that if I felt nothing from you and I’m fed up of you shoving me away because you can’t deal with your own screwed up feelings. Admit something, please. Anything. Explain it to me. Explain us.” I gesture between us and leave my other hand resting on his chest.
His eyes watch mine, and I see the depth of emotion hidden behind the surface. Hope expands in my chest, rising like a helium balloon, that he might be brave enough to admit everything we’ve been through together and that things have shifted for him.
My fingers crawl back up his frame, finding that scar again, as I search his face for a sign that he’ll relent. But all I see are stormy eyes, regardless of my hope. His shoulders bunch slowly, all stillness retreating as his chest puffs out to carry on with the lies. I’m sick of it, and I’ve got nothing to lose anymore. Quinn Cane won’t crack; he’s been honed into a man made of steel.
I pull my arm back and slap my palm across his cheek. It stuns him, giving me the time I need. My lips crush against his, determined to pull some reaction out of him. A second ticks by, the longest of my life, before I feel his fingers dig into my hair and his lips move against mine. The shot of lust diffuses the pain of his hold, and I show him the
dirty girl he’s shaped, my hands already clinging on for what’s coming. But the fireworks and passion I want are taken to a slow and sensual simmer. His lips work against mine, overpowering me easily, and tenderly kissing and nipping at my mouth.
All of my words and all of the feelings I’ve needed are shown back to me in the dance of our mouths. It’s the closest I’ve felt to Quinn since he let me go, and reminds me of why I’ve been so lost without him.
He pulls back, leaving me breathless for more.
“You still taste as innocent as when I first kissed you.”
His words let the guilt back in, and my frown creases my brow.
“I’m not innocent anymore, Quinn. You stole that from me. You threw me into a world I only saw in films, and you won’t even explain it all to me.” His kiss might have slowed things down, but I still need answers. The gentle throb from my cuts is nothing in comparison to the storm inside my chest.
He doesn’t answer, but runs his eyes over my face again and again, each time stopping at the mark on my cheek.
“I’m sorry that you’ll always have to look at me and remember what I’ve done,” I whisper.
“Always? Isn’t that a bit premature?”
“I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else, Quinn. In every way possible.”
“My intentions may have been fucked up in the beginning. I saw you as something I could take and enjoy. But you’re right, things changed.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out those two cubes that seem to govern so many of his decisions. “That’s why I gave you the choice. That’s why you got to roll the dice.” He sighs and looks away from me, a frown creasing his brow in thought. “You can let the dice decide again. They brought you to me and sent you away. Maybe they’ll keep us together,” he muses, sounding uncertain about anything.
“You’d leave that up to dice? Why? Why is it so hard for you just to say that you have feelings for me and that we’ll try and work something out? I’m not asking anything more of you than the truth.” He looks away from me towards the window. “My truth is that I've felt lost since I left you, that I don’t think I can make sense of my life without you in it anymore. It terrifies me because I know so little about you. And a lot of what I do know chills me to the bone.” Still he doesn’t look at me. I drop my eyes to the floor and wonder why I’m bothering. “And I have all of that to deal with before I even consider my guilt and how you’ll ever look at me without seeing the girl who killed your brother.” I let my shoulders drop and step back, both annoyed and utterly lost. “I need you to make a decision for you, Quinn. Not leave it to fate, or have some screwed up family rule make the decision. You owe me that. You owe me a helluva lot more, but it can’t be paid off like a debt.”
“Emily it’s not that fucking easy. He’s dead,” he seethes through gritted teeth. His comment infuriates me.
“Well, fuck easy. Nothing is easy. Do you think I found it easy when you tossed me at that Russian arsehole, or when you locked me in your room, or fucked me? It seems we’re even on that bloody score. Why are you struggling with showing me any sort of honesty?”
“I don’t want you drawn into my world. I’ll be vulnerable with you. I can’t afford that. This world is…” He shakes his head and backs away from me. “You’re just not meant for it, Emily.” His eyes are sad as he says the words. “You never were.”
“So this is about you. You being vulnerable.”
“Did you hear what I said about my mother?”
“Not all of it.” I soften. “But I’m not like her.” I reach for his face and make sure his eyes are trained on mine. “Perhaps in the beginning, but I can’t describe just how different I am because of you. I’m not the same girl. Too much has happened, but that doesn’t mean I’ll crumble. Surely it means the opposite.”
“No, Em. You don’t belong with me.”
“Well tough. Because I love you, and I think you feel the same about me. Which is terrifying in itself. But don’t we owe it to ourselves to try to make something out of this mess?” I blink back the tears, determined to make him see the truth in my eyes. “Don’t push me away. Don’t do something you’ll regret. There’s been so much pain, even before me. I know you’re better than all of this, or at least, that’s what I hope.” My fingers trace his cheek and I force a smile through the tears now falling readily onto my face.
My heart sinks when Quinn says nothing in response to my speech. Rejection stabs at my heart, and I add it to the list of burdens threatening to drown me. We stand, searching each other’s eyes with no more words to say. They’ve all been said. At least from me.
“You’re the only one who’s ever stood up to me,” he says quietly. “The fuck did you do that for?” The last of it muttered beneath his breath.
“If I didn’t stand up to you, you’d have pushed me out, and I’d be left wondering what the hell happened. I wouldn’t have coped with that.”
He opens his arms and pulls me into his embrace. It’s one of the first signs of affection he’s shown and it increases the emotion leaking from my face.
We stand, wrapped in each other's arms for what feels like hours.
“Do we need to go to the police?”
“No. I’ve taken care of it.” His voice is short and flat.
“What next?”
“Who the fuck knows, Em? Who the fuck knows?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When are you coming back?” Nate asks, his voice as argumentative as it always is when he’s out of his depth. “I’m not fucking telling him, Quinn. You need to get back here and face him. We all want to know what the fuck’s gone down.”
I frown into the phone, irritated with his damn tone and stare at Emily fucking around in this studio. I don’t care a shit for facing my father or telling him where Josh is. He’s dead. There’s nothing else to say on the matter. How it hasn’t happened before Emily is anyone’s guess, regardless of my protection.
She walks past me into the back of the studio, tidying up some loose cables and beginning to pack her laptop away. Then she smiles as she comes out and wanders away from me again.
“When I’m goddamn ready, Nate.” It’s about the only fucking response I’ve got for him. Life is different here, interesting with her ass in my face all the time.
“Do you want some tea before we go?” she mouths as she pops her head around the corner, pretending to sip a cup of tea. The mimic is as fucking cute as she is.
I shake my head at her and stand, ready to take this conversation with my brother out of her earshot. I’ve barely talked to him about it since the morning after the event, not managing to find the right words to give context to the scenario. I just told him Josh had been killed. Gambling game gone wrong, and that I’d get the body back to Chicago soon. That was three days ago. Two of which I’ve spent with her trying to forget the whole fucking night. I just need to see she’s good again. Then I can sort shit out. Deal with it all.
The door clatters as I head outside into the wintery weather and gaze at passing traffic, all the time listening to his grumbling about the fact that it’s not his job to run everything. And that it’s not his job to deal with Father. And that it’s not his job to do anything but the damn numbers. He’s right, it isn’t, but it’s also not his fucking job to question how I do run everything. From London or not.
“And who the fuck killed him, Quinn? What family? You’ve told us nothing.” I narrow my eyes at the slow crawl of traffic around me and kick up some leaves beneath my feet, still unsure who should know the truth and who shouldn’t. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Why won’t you talk?”
“It’s not as simple as that, Nate,” I mutter.
“The hell’s not simple about it? He’s our brother, Quinn. Cane’s don’t just die for no fucking reason. What have you done about...”
He carries on ranting, becoming more infuriated the longer I refuse to talk to him. It’s not that I don’t trust him. He’ll do whatever I tell him to. It’s more that he li
kes Emily and he might not after this. For some fucking reason, I care about that more than I thought I could.
She passes by the window, another small smile coming at me as she shrugs into her coat and starts switching lights off. She looks picture fucking perfect, framed by her own little empire.
“Emily shot him, Nate.”
There’s a hushed silence on the end of the phone. It’s exactly what I expected. He’s probably calculating the facts as smoothly as he does his numbers, trying to work out why and how without my explanation. One thing’s for sure; he’ll know why I’ve been so quiet now. He knows how I feel about her. He has since before I did.
“Why?”
“To protect me.”
More silence comes after that, followed by a huff and the phone going dead.
I nod at the blank phone screen in my hand, acknowledging his need to go assimilate that information. I’m not sure what the fuck I would be doing if the situation were reversed, but I’d need the time, too, one way or another. He knows me well enough to know this has become far from a simple revenge kill.
“You ready?” she asks, her fingers turning the key in the lock.
“That security isn’t worth shit,” I say, instantly scrolling through my phone to find Shifty’s number.
“What do you mean?” I don’t answer her. Instead, I start us walking and send a message to Shifty to get the place secure. If she’s going to be there alone, she’ll have the best money can buy protecting her assets. “Quinn?”
“Give me your studio keys?” She does with no other questions as she drops them into my palm. “The guys will need two days to lock down the security for you. You’ll have to close shop while they go in.”
“What?”
“The studio. Unless you want another building instead?” She frowns and shuffles her scarf around, tipping her defiant little chin up into the air and still refusing any monetary help from me.
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