The Ties That Bind

by Norinne, Rebecca

  The Ties That Bind

  Rebecca Norinne

  Contents

  About This Book

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Rebecca Norinne

  Meet the lads of Dublin Rugby

  Coming Soon

  About This Book

  An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart.

  My name is Xander St. John and I have two jobs: protect my brother Jayce—with my life, if necessary—and take out the family's enemies before they can strike first. It's a job I excel at too, until Jayce gave me the one directive I could never carry out: murder Arabella Wilson, the only woman I've ever loved, the one who destroyed me years ago. But that wasn't all. If I defied him, Jayce would have me killed too. So now I have a choice to make: who lives and who dies? Both Jayce and Arabella are my enemies, yet each such an ingrained part of my soul that if I lose either, a part of me will die right along with them. So what will it be? My twin or my lover? My darkness or my light?

  Length: 36,000 words

  To everyone who’s ever loved someone they weren’t supposed to.

  Preface

  Two households, both alike in dignity,

  In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

  From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

  Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S ROMEO & JULIET

  1

  Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.

  Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate,

  O anything of nothing first create!

  O heavy lightness, serious vanity,

  Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms!

  ROMEO & JULIET

  There were perks to being second in line to inherit the expansive St. John family fortune; things like money, cars, houses, and women, but there were downsides to that coveted accident of birth as well. Things like dealing with my older brother Jayce Marlowe St. John, heir to the family fortune and the CEO of our father’s many businesses (most of them not entirely legal). Because Jayce wasn’t just my brother, he was also my boss and he was out for blood. Specifically—and quite literally—Wilson blood.

  Which was where I came in.

  Our families had been at each other’s throats for so long, I couldn’t tell you how the feud had begun. Actually, that wasn’t true. You weren’t born into the St. John or the Wilson families without learning from a very young age why the other was your mortal enemy. I just couldn’t bring myself to care anymore, which probably meant I was going soft in my old age. And that was a huge problem for Jayce since, as his enforcer, he needed me honed to a razor sharp edge. Especially now that things had begun to escalate between lesser factions within our two families.

  When Jayce slid a plain black folder across his desk, I picked it up and flipped through the contents inside, my eyes flying over the information. I’d hoped Royce Wilson would have called off his fucking goons after our last run in with them, but from what I was looking at, it seemed like he’d upped his efforts instead.

  “I can’t believe that motherfucker hasn’t learned his lesson,” Jayce commented, taking a sip of his scotch. “Teagan’s still laid up in the hospital with two broken legs and a shattered cheek bone; you’d figure Royce would be a bit more circumspect.”

  I shrugged. While Jayce may have been an efficient and ruthless businessman, he didn’t fully comprehend the revenge business since he’d never had to carry out the actions with his own two hands. That’s what he had me for and I was getting tired of explaining to him how things worked.

  Apparently he didn’t appreciate my lack of response because he pushed his chair back angrily and stood, marching around the large mahogany desk. “Don’t you fucking give me that bullshit,” he spat, lording over me. “You need to show me the respect I deserve. Don’t make me remind you who’s in charge here.”

  His theatrics were another thing I was weary of dealing with. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to poke the bear (too much) lest he actually turn his wrath on me. So I gave him my full attention, but was careful to keep my face blank so he couldn’t infer my true feelings about him or this discussion.

  “That’s better,” he pronounced with smug satisfaction. Straightening his cuffs, he dropped down into the leather chair next to me and reached for the folder. Shuffling through the photographs, he pulled one out and handed it to me. “This can’t stand.”

  I took it from his fingers and studied the image, scrutinizing the details. This particular warehouse had gone up in flames last month, the fire destroying a cache of weapons Jayce had been in the middle of brokering a deal for. Everyone knew the fire had been set by Royce’s men, but they’d been so good at covering their tracks that we hadn’t yet determined how it’d gone down exactly … which meant we couldn’t keep it from happening again.

  The grainy black and white photograph showed two men slinking along the side of the building, keeping to the shadows in order to avoid detection. Something about the photo looked off, but I couldn’t place what it was. That wasn’t my specialty. Jayce paid people with a background in spy shit to determine that sort of thing; my job was to make people pay once we knew who they were, what they’d done, and how.

  “I need you to take care of this.” He pointed at the photo.

  “I gathered that,” I responded dryly, dreading his next words.

  The only time Jayce ever spoke to me was when he needed me to “take care of” something. I might have been his brother, younger by only a handful of minutes, but as far as he was concerned I was just another minion to order around.

  “It needs to be big,” he continued. “I thought putting Teagan out of commission would send the proper message, but if anything, what happened has only incited Royce. That deal had been in the works for months and now I’m left holding the bag on the delivery. I can clean up this mess with the buyer, but I need you to make sure Royce doesn’t step to us again.”

  “Consider it done,” I said, my mind already rushing through plans and logistics as I rose from my seat.

  Before I could stand completely, Jayce laid his hand on my forearm. “I’m not finished, Xander.”

  No, of course he wasn’t, I thought with an inward sigh. Jayce always had to have the last word in any conversation, no matter the topic. I eased back into my chair and waited for him to continue.

  “I thought roughing up Teagan would send the right message; hit at the heart of the family, but it seems I underestimated the old goat’s feelings for his nephew.”

  “No,” I said, leaning forward to grab the photo off the desk. Raising it, I continued, “I think he heard you loud and clear. This isn’t a minor retaliation, Jayce. Fuck. We’re lucky we aren’t burying Nicolette’s boy.”

  He scoffed. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. After all, we did.”

  “That’s different,” Jayce answered, waving away my concern over our sister’s son. “Claude’s just a boy. Royce may be many things, but he’s not a baby killer.”

  “Claude’s hardly a baby,” I reminded my brother. “He’ll be 10 next month. Think about what you were doing at that age.”

  “That was different. I was being groomed to take over the business. If something happens to me, this all goes to you. Claude’s a non-entity where this family is concerned,” Jayce pronounced with finality.

  Sometimes my brother’s shortsightedness could be star
tling given how successfully he ran St. John Enterprises. His unwillingness to see reason, or to look beyond his own nose, often made me wondering if he was actually the person making day-to-day decisions for our family’s many holdings. Then again, I couldn’t imagine him taking anyone’s advice so that wasn’t a likely scenario.

  So then how does he manage not to fuck everything up? I wondered, not for the first time … nor certainly the last.

  I stifled a sigh and tempered my tone. I’d been literally and figuratively biting my tongue so frequently it was a miracle I had one left to bite at all.

  “If something happens to you or me, this all goes to Nicolette, who will pass it on to Claude. And Claude’s father isn’t exactly a nobody. Shit, the kid’s probably got more targets on his back than you and me combined. The Russian’s do not fuck around.”

  When she was only seventeen, our father betrothed our sister to Sergei Konstantinov, a “business associate” of his. The wedding was supposed to happen the day after her eighteenth birthday, but things went to hell in a hand basket when Nicolette fell in love with Sergei’s son, Maksim. Regardless, our father tried to force her to marry Sergei to solidify the deal with the him, but Nic and Max managed to get one over on both our parents by disappearing. When they re-emerged following Sergei’s rather suspicious death two years later, not only had they gotten married, they were also the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy. Max took over the Konstantinov family business and eventually went legit, but I didn’t trust things to stay that way. More so than even the Wilsons or the St. Johns, the Konstantinovs had long memories and if anyone decided to challenge Maksim for control, the first thing they’d do was go for Nic and Claude. We might fuck around with warehouse fires and broken kneecaps to settle our petty squabbles, but the Russians went straight for the jugular. Jayce would do well to remember that.

  “The Russians can suck my cock,” he proclaimed arrogantly.

  “If some of them get wind of you saying that, they might try to feed you your cock. Or theirs,” I added.

  One of Sergei’s former henchmen had turned merc for hire when Maksim took the family straight, and he was the scariest motherfucker I’d ever come across. His contract always included a “spoils of war” stipulation that made my stomach turn. My job was to protect Jayce, but some jobs weren’t worth going up against Aleksei Vasilyev. I might have been a cold-blooded killer, but Aleksei was a fucking lunatic. While I could turn off my emotions to get the job done, Aleksei took great joy in the kill—the more gruesome the better.

  “They wouldn’t dare,” Jayce responded smugly.

  I shrugged. Far be it from me to try and convince him otherwise.

  “Besides, this isn’t about the Russians. This is about Royce Wilsons and how we’re going to put a stop to him once and for all.”

  “I’m happy to take him out, so long as you understand this isn’t something that’s going to be done by the time you wake up tomorrow. That sort of shit requires planning and finesse and I know how impatient you can get.”

  His impatience was why Teagan was laid up in a hospital bed instead of buried six feet under. I guess my guys could have shot him just as easily as they beat him, but it was a lot easier to make a beating look like a mugging gone wrong than it was to make a shooting appear accidental.

  “You’ll do what I tell you and when,” he growled.

  Running my hands through my hair as I bit back a frustrated groan, I leveled a glare at my twin. “Goddamnit Jayce. You know fuck all about how this works. How many times do I have to tell you? You call a hit and I’ll execute it, but it’s done when and how I say. I don’t tell you how to launder money; you don’t get to tell me how to put a bullet in our enemies.”

  Jayce stood and, buttoning his suit jacket, stepped around the other side of the desk—his position of comfort and power. Leveling his own glare my way, he said, “That’s where you’re wrong Xander. I’m in charge and you’d be wise not to forget it. You do what I say, when I say, or I’ll have someone put a bullet in you. How does that sound little brother?”

  So it’s like that then?

  We’d never been close and, to be honest, I couldn’t stand the fucker, but I never thought he’d come right out and threaten me like that. No, I thought if he ever decided to do away with me, it’d be a knife to the back while I was asleep. It was one of the many reasons I rarely slept and when I did, it was generally with one eye open.

  “It sounds like that would hurt,” I replied nonchalantly, as if the fucker hadn’t just threatened my life. “And since I generally try to avoid unnecessary pain, please tell me what you have in mind.”

  I could sit here and play the part I’d been assigned, but it was becoming increasingly clear the day I’d need to step away from this life was fast approaching. While Jayce was supposedly the brains of this operation, I was most definitely the muscle and the team I’d put together was loyal. When I left, they’d come with me. Unfortunately, that’d leave my brother to hire his own mercenaries who wouldn’t care who I was or the role I’d played in building the family’s empire. I needed to stay one step ahead of Jayce. Since I hadn’t had time to formulate my plan yet, that meant I’d continue taking orders from him and carrying them out.

  For now.

  Jayce pulled an additional folder from his desk drawer and like the first, slid it my way. When I opened it, my blood ran cold. Staring back at me was a black and white photo of Arabella Wilson, Royce Wilson’s daughter. The one woman in all the world who had more power over me than anyone else, including the man sitting across from me.

  “I want her dead,” I heard Jayce say through the drumming in my ears. “Royce might not give a damn about what happens to that shit head nephew of his, but burying his precious Arabella will make him think twice about fucking with me again.”

  My face an unreadable mask, I glanced up at my brother and studied him. We were twins, yes, but there were stark differences between us if you knew what to look for. The biggest distinction was something that was below the surface, something you couldn’t see no matter how long or how hard you looked: Jayce hated women whereas I adored them. I could kill a man with my bare hands but when I touched a woman’s body, it was with reverence and awe. And there was one woman who I worshipped above all others.

  Arabella Fucking Wilson.

  2

  Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;

  Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes;

  Being vexed a sea nourish’d with loving tears:

  What is it else? a madness most discreet,

  A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.

  ROMEO & JULIET

  I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Arabella. Fuck, we weren’t supposed to ever be in the same room as one another, but life had a funny way of fucking up even the best laid plans.

  The first time I saw her I was 10 years old and she was eight. It was at Lucrezia Bonaccorso’s funeral, the matriarch of the of the Italian ruling family. Having outlived four husbands and uniting many of the lesser Italian families through marriage, she’d finally succumbed to cancer at the advanced age of 100. As a mark of respect for all Lucrezia had achieved during her long life, the various families that made up Chicago’s underworld came together for a summit where they agreed to table their grievances for a period of 100 days.

  Not to say there wasn’t an immense amount of tension at the funeral—at only 10 I wasn’t yet privy to the machinations of my father’s world, but even I could feel the tension roiling off the men gathered. But for us kids it was a chance to meet and play with new people. While the other girls clung to their mother’s skirts, Arabella threw caution to the wind and joined in on the rough-housing we were prone to. At first, the other boys wanted nothing to do with her, but soon she won them over by showing she could run just as fast as they could, jump just as high, and kick just as hard. For two hours she was part of our little gang of hellions and by the time her mother came to collect her, Arabella
’s dress was streaked with mud and her knees were bloody with scrapes and cuts. As she was pulled away, her mother’s admonishments reaching my ears, Arabella turned and waved to me, hollering out, “See ya around!” before she disappeared from my life for another eight years.

  When I was 14, my father pulled me out of school, cutting off any and all ties I had to the outside world. While Jayce was being groomed to take over St. John Enterprises, I was being groomed to become his protection, a cold-blooded killer. By the time I was 16, I’d already put two bullets in the back of a Wilson goon. To say that I was well acquainted with the battle raging between the Wilsons and the St. Johns would be an understatement. While I could look back fondly on that afternoon at the funeral, the little boy I’d been was long gone, and that little girl with the skinned knees was nothing more than a pleasant, fading memory. Every now and then I’d hear Arabella’s name pop up but I didn’t pay too much attention to what was being said. As far as I was concerned, she was the daughter of my father’s enemy, and that made her my enemy.

  But then I saw her … and everything changed.

  On the day that changed the course of my life forever, I was at the mall with Jayce and a group of friends, shopping and hanging out like normal guys. As we walked from one end of the building to the next, we came across some girls we didn’t know and, liking the looks of them, began flirting shamelessly. There was one girl though—a take your breath away, stop you dead in your tracks beauty—whose shyness and obvious discomfort intrigued me. I must have stared, wordlessly, for a good minute before I came to my senses and introduced myself.

  “Hey,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I’m Xander.”