by L. Steele
* * *
Half an hour later, I lean back, "I’m stuffed." I pat my lips with my napkin.
Amelie pushes the tiered cake stand toward me. "But you haven’t had the scones yet."
I stare at the shortcake-like baked goodies. A groan wells up my throat, "But—"
"You must." Summer plops one of the rectangular delights onto my plate.
"I can’t."
"You can do this." Amelia’s lips quirk.
Jace's wife, Sienna leans forward, pats me on the shoulder. "It’s good for you."
I glance around at the faces of the women I’ve come to count as family. I’ve known them for only a few weeks, and yet, each of them has gone out of her way to make me feel welcome here. They had accepted me into their little circle…no questions asked. How rare is that?
"If you insist..."
"We do." Meredith nods.
"If Karma were here, she’d say 'if you incest.'" Amelie snickers.
Summer chuckles, "That girl has a sense of humor that would be more in keeping with the sensibilities of a teenage boy."
"Such non-sequiturs." Amelie tosses her head. "Honestly, she is going to get into trouble for it someday."
Summer’s features firm, "What the hell is she doing in Sicily anyway? Why can’t she come back? I can’t help but get the feeling that she’s not telling the entire truth."
My pulse thuds at my temples. "But she is fine, right?" I pat some clotted cream and strawberry jam onto my plate.
Summer’s forehead furrows. "She’s been messaging me, but…"
"But?"
"The messages are not like her. I mean, she tells me that she’s okay, and that, in itself is weird. No jokes, no puns, no sarcasm.” She looks around the table. "Have you ever known Karma to speak without resorting to some underhanded acerbic quote?"
The others shake their head.
"Maybe… Uh, it’s the man she’s with?" I slice the scone, then lather some of the cream onto the flaky surface, followed by a dab of jam. "Perhaps he’s changing her?" I bite into the scone.
Amelie quirks her eyebrow, "Is Saint changing you?"
The bite of scone goes down the wrong way. I cough.
Summer hands me a glass of water and I down it.
"So, what’s the latest between the two of you?" Isla pipes up.
I place the glass back on the table, then reach for the rest of the scone. "These are good."
"Don’t change the topic," Amelie pouts.
"Let the girl have some tea." Meredith pours me a cup. "Milk?"
"I like it black."
She hands me the cup. I sip from it and the slightly acrid, bitter yet sensual taste of tea fills my senses. Almost as potent as his scent. The man who has turned my world upside down. I glance up, to find five faces turned in my direction. "What?"
"You’re falling for him, huh?" Summer’s brow furrows.
"No." I place the high-grade china carefully back in the saucer. Then survey the features of my friends. "I am already in love with him."
"Oh," Amelie's jaw slackens. Then she snaps her mouth shut, leans forward. "He’ll hurt you, girl."
My shoulders slump. Correction. He’s already wounded me in a way he’ll never know. Just not as much as I am going to hurt him. But I have no choice. I peer up at her. Should I tell her? I take in the assembled women.
"You can trust us with anything. You know that, right?" Meredith’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts.
I glance at her, then look away.
I scan their faces, "Why is it that all of you are so welcoming? You don't even know me."
"Oh, but I do." Summer's lips kick up in a smile. "It wasn't long ago that I was in your position. You see me and Sinclair and you think it was all roses and shit from day one?"
I shuffle my feet, "Guess not. I mean when I saw the two of you at the wedding, the tension between the two of you was palpable. But then you both seemed to have worked things out."
"We did." She chuckles. "It wasn't easy."
"I'm sure."
"I was lucky I had the support of these wonderful women." She looks around at the group. "It's tough doing this on your own. You haven't had it easy, V."
Tell me about it.
"I want to extend our support to you... If you'll take it." She touches my shoulder.
"We’d love to help you." Amelie takes my hand.
"You bet," Isla adds.
"We have a vested interest in this. There can be no better woman than you to deliver Saint his comeuppance," Meredith says.
A lump of emotion blocks my throat. Tell them, tell them everything. Come clean. This could be your last chance.
It’ll put your life in danger.
It could save Saint from ruin.
I open my mouth, but I’m stopped by a familiar voice, "Why, Victoria, what a surprise to see you here."
I turn. My face pales. "You?" I swallow down the bile that laces my throat.
The tall man comes to a stop on the other side of the group. His gaze bores into me, in his eyes a warning.
"Who’re you?" Amelie glowers at him.
He tilts his head, "Hello Tory." He smiles.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My vision narrows, the band around my chest tightening. This can’t be happening. Not here, not now. Not when I had been so close to finding a way out.
I shake my head, try to speak, but the words die.
"Victoria, you okay?" Summer whispers.
Meredith glances at the man, then back at me. My breathing catches while my hands and legs seem to grow numb. I can’t move, can’t say anything.
Can’t do anything but watch as she rises to her feet. "You must be a friend of Victoria's..."
"Indeed." Antonio's smile widens. "You don’t mind if I borrow her for a second do you?"
17
Look in my face, I am somebody; Look at my back, I am nobody. What am I?
Answer: A mirror
* * *
Saint
* * *
"Hit me, motherfucker." I swing with my gloved fist. Arpad ducks. I stumble. Straighten, then pivot and rush toward him. He sidesteps me. I rush forward, slamming into the ropes that demarcate the boxing ring. Using the elasticity to brace myself, I turn, shake my head.
"Wanker," I growl.
Arpad snickers. "Speak for yourself."
He slams one gloved fist into the other. "Tired already? Heard you had trouble with your performance with some woman the other day. You losing your touch, motherfucker?"
I bare my lips. First, that slip of a woman had made me lose control completely. Now, this tosser actually thinks he can defeat me? "I’ve never lost a fight with you before."
"Always a first time." He hunches his shoulders, takes his stance. "You going to attack or are you going to yammer all day like a pussy?"
"The fuck?" Anger claws my insides. It’s not at my douchebag of a friend, who’s grinning like the joke’s on me…which it is… I mean, I am not that far up my own arse that I don’t see the signs. Coming undone around a woman while trying to figure out what the hell her game is and drawing a blank every single time? Not advisable. Especially when, clearly, she doesn’t share the same feelings I have for her… Hold on. Hold… The fuck... On… Feelings?
Who the fuck talks about feelings?
There is none of that here. This is pure and simple, a challenge I took on… And purely because she intrigues me. And yeah, she had belonged to the motherfucker who had ruined our lives… And he is dead... But so what? Doesn’t mean I can’t make him pay by owning the woman who had been his wife. Possession is 9/10ths of the law , or what-fucking-ever that means. There. I have admitted it to myself. It’s a chance to get some retribution for what was done to me and the rest of the Seven. That is the only reason I had embarked on this crazy mission. That’s all.
"You okay, Saint?" Arpad frowns.
"The fuck you going on about, dickhead?"
"Just," he rolls his shoulders, "you were mumbling to yourse
lf."
"I wasn’t."
"Yep." He nods, "So, it’s true then."
"Do I even want to know what you are yodeling on about?"
"You tell me."
"Nothing to confess… And PS, the last time I checked, you weren’t the priest among us."
"But I am the best to forgive your sins, considering nothing you say or do could ever shock me." He leans forward on the balls of his feet. "After all, with Jace and Sinclair out of the picture, you and I head up the list of most-wanted felons of the carnal kind."
"When it comes to pleasures of the flesh, I’m ahead of both of you," a new voice chimes in.
I jerk my head as Weston enters the room.
"Too bad you don’t fight," I rub the back of my neck, "else it would have been satisfying taking you both on at the same time."
"You know I can’t get in the ring. Have to save my fingers," he flexes his digits, "for important procedures."
I smirk, "Is that the operation theater or the theater of operations you’re talking about?"
"Both," he chuckles. "So you have some of your faculties left about you?"
I throw up my hands, "What the hell are you two nattering on like gossiping women about? I—"
My neck snaps back. "Fuck." I reel back from Arpad’s blow. The world tilts. I glance up from my prone position on the floor of the ring, to meet Arpad’s snickering expression.
I spit out blood, "Fucker."
"My pleasure." He holds out his arm and when I take it, he hauls me to my feet. My ears ring; pain fills the cavity behind my eyes. I shake my head to clear it. "Asshole." I train my gaze between the two grinning idiots.
"Now that we have that out of the way..." Arpad uses his teeth to undo the straps on the gloves.
"So..." He turns to me, "What’s gotten your knickers in such a twist, that you went down in the first round?"
"None of your business." I strip off my own gloves, drop them to my feet.
"Oh, but it is." Weston steps into the ring.
I glance up as they close in on me.
"What’s this?" I scowl, "An intervention?"
"You bet." Damian hangs over the ropes.
"The fuck you doing here, rockstar?”
"Heard you were having a moment." He grins.
I crack my neck. "So what, you flew in to gloat?"
"Of course." The light glints off Damian's golden blonde hair. "I was between concerts. What better way to use my down time, than to be around to witness another epic fall?" He waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my shoulders, "Sorry to disappoint, ol' chap, but you were misinformed."
"Oh?"
"You mean you didn’t shut down all of Selfridges to pick out the wardrobe for your woman."
I choke.
"Personally," Damian snickers.
"By the way, while you were at it, did you choose a ring?" Weston trains a glance in my direction, his countenance all serious-like.
"Do you guys have nothing better to do than trade gossip?"
"When it comes to you," Sinclair prowls forward, "there’s nothing better."
I scowl at him. "The fuck are you doing here?"
"Edward’s been delayed," Sinclair drawls. "The Father had to tend to an emergency with his flock, but he’s here in spirit."
"Shit, that’s a terrible pun, Sin."
He laughs, "It’s the environment." He glances around the space, "Why you can’t use the gym at one of your fancy hotels, I don’t understand. For a man who loves rare £400,000 smoke sticks, your choice of venue to get the shit beaten out of you, sucks."
"What’s wrong with it?" I glance around the shabby-chic environment.
Jace had bought the building next to the Claridge's, then left the run-down gym as-is.
I like it because, well… Occasionally, it's an interesting experience to slum it. Also, it’s the one place I can count on finding someone who can hold their own against me. Men who have their own devils to defeat.
"It has character, you gotta admit," Arpad grins. "Besides, it’s growing on me."
"Don’t laugh too soon, dipshit. It’s a fluke that you won today."
"The first of many, no doubt."
"Wanna go another round?"
"Only after Saint confesses." Weston claps me on the shoulder, "Come on, man. I have too much invested in this."
"The fuck you talking about?"
"We may have bet a million," he chuckles.
"Or two." Arpad folds his arms over his chest. "You did it then? You took her on as your sub?”
"Nope." I glance around at their faces. "I asked her to marry me."
Silence, then Sinner doubles over in laughter. "And you made fun of me for doing the same?" He chuckles, then laughs louder.
Weston holds out a hand.
Arpad glowers, "Don’t have a check book, nor a pen…"
"You don’t need either." Weston pulls out his phone from his pocket, swipes the screen, then hands it over to Arpad. "Key in your password, ol'chap."
Arpad punches in his numbers.
"Jesus F’ing Christ. I can’t believe this shit." I stalk over to the opposite side of the ring. "That’s it, I am outta here."
"Hold on, Saint," Arpad smirks.
"Don't leave us hanging now," Sinner chortles.
"Can’t believe you’re being such a pussy," Weston's voice stops me. "I mean, if you’re afraid of the woman..."
I turn.
Weston raises his hands, "If you’re in love or some shit, you can tell us."
I scowl, "Back the fuck up."
"Enlighten us then?" Weston grins.
"You remember when Sin here decided to fake a marriage with Summer?"
Sinclair scowls, "That was to lure her father out into the open."
I motion with my hand.
"The father who had a connection to the Mafia..." Weston rubs the back of his neck. "After whose death… Sinclair realized his true feelings."
"He married Summer, they lived happily after." Arpad drawls, as he removes his boxing gloves. "The fucking end."
"And blah-fucking-blah, yes; but what about the Mafia?" I undo the Velcro strip on one boxing glove, and take it off, then the other.
"We’re tracking them down." Weston leans forward, "The only clue we have is the name Adam Rhodes offered before he died."
"Which we aren’t sure is a lead or the mumblings of a man doped out on painkillers." Arpad rocks back on his heels.
"He was on his deathbed, so one would think there was some significance to what he said," Sinclair muses, stroking his chin.
"He mentioned a Byron and a Capo," Damian glances around the group.
I grunt, "Then, Sinclair and I got messages from an anonymous source who knew our phone numbers, and quoted Byron. There's something else."
Sinclair stiffens. Weston drums his fingers on his chest.
"I received a USB with a video. It was dropped off in an unsigned envelope to my office."
All of them turn to me.
"When?" Weston scowls.
"Right after Sterling's wedding." I rub the back of my neck.
"Why didn’t you tell us about this before?" Sinner growls.
"I am telling you now," I grunt.
"And?" Damian asks, "What did it contain?"
I step through the ropes, snatch up my phone, then straighten.
The guys crowd around and I play the video I'd downloaded from the USB.
Arpad swears, "That's the first evidence we have of that bastard."
"Considering we were blindfolded all through the incident—" Weston's voice tails off.
"Fucking, fuck." Damian growls.
I stare at the back of the man—the one whose voice has haunted my nightmares for so long. My pulse rate ratchets up.
"This is... significant." Weston drums his fingers on his chest. "It could help us make real headway in tracking down those bastards."
"Which is why I engaged a private detective to run with it." I widen my stan
ce.
"The same one who's checking up on Victoria?" Weston straightens.
"About that...." I roll my shoulders. "There’s a connection between her and the Mafia."
"No." Arpad frowns.
"Yep," A headache drums at my temples. "She was sent with Rhodes for the explicit purpose getting close to us."
"And…?" Weston growls.
"And," I glance around the men, "that’s all I know so far.”
Sinclair swears. Damian lowers his chin.
Weston and Arpad watch me with varying expressions of incredulity.
"Clearly, you need a better investigator," Arpad growls.
"You happen to know her, by the way." I tilt my head.
Arpad stiffens, "Is it...? It can't be..."
"Karina," I nod. "Weston recommended her, and she's a trusted friend of Jace's."
He swears under his breath, "A bloody nuisance is what she is."
I lower my chin, "She's trustworthy. That's what matters."
"You’re evading the issue at hand again." Weston moves toward me. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re worried that you are in over your head."
I toss my phone at Sinner who snatches it up from the air.
I turn to Weston, "Pick up the gloves if you dare, Doc." I beckon at him. "Happy to go another round."
"You know I don't fight with my hands," Weston frowns. "I need to protect them."
"Maybe you're afraid I'd beat you?" I step back into the ring.
"I'm a surgeon, man." He blinks. "It's not a bloody excuse. And I can whip your arse with my hands tied behind my back."
"Oh?" I bounce on the balls of my feet, "Less talking, more fighting."
"Oh, I’ll be doing more than that, you bloody twit." Weston steps into the ring, "I’m going to dislocate your jaw, finish what Arpad started." He folds his arms behind his back. "And without using my fists."
"Living dangerously, Doc?" I smirk.
He bends his head and rushes me.
I duck, then sweep his legs out from under him. He goes down, rolls, then springs up and rushes me. I evade him, dance over to the other side. "Come on, Doc. Show me what you’ve got."