Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3

by Hart, Charlotte E

  “Nothing.”

  I keep my eyes downcast as I pass, slowing my pace once I’m clear. The woman had an accent; so did the man, but he was American, although his features were Hispanic.

  The rev of an engine makes me turn, and I see the black Merc pull away and speed past me. As I watch, my eyes are drawn to the man still waiting on the sidewalk. He sees me, and we stare for a moment before I turn and pick up my pace, unfortunately in the wrong direction. Heavy footsteps begin to sound between the buildings after me, but I don’t turn around.

  “Hey, wait.”

  I ignore the call and dive around the next building, waiting for him to pass.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he coddles, catching up with me. I spin on him, racking my brains for the self-defence lessons Torino made me go through. The thought of taking my heels off isn't a happy one, but I will if I must.

  “Really? Following a girl down a dark street. Not creepy at all.” I pull out the small can of mace in my bag, aiming it forward.

  “You’re the one snooping,” he says, looking at the mace with a smile. Asshole. “You’re an optimist. I’m pleased.” I size him up—casual appearance, no gang tattoos showing, but he appears entirely too confident and the smile he’s giving me is nothing but charm.

  “Enough with the charm. I’d rather you spoke that name I'm interested in again. I want to know what your business is with Cane?” The smile dies on his face at the mention of Cane, and his stance shifts so I can see the bulge of the gun on his hip.

  “And what’s a pretty girl like you want with Cane, huh? You one of their girls? You work for them?” He steps into my space, agitated and aggressive.

  “Far from it. I have a personal connection to them, yes, but I’d never work with the Canes.”

  He scratches his goatee and considers me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Benjamin, it’s to hold your ground. So I do. I don’t give an inch or betray my pounding heart. After all, dark allies and dirty men aren’t new to me.

  As he assesses me, my phone vibrates in my bag. It could be one of several people, but I pray it isn’t Benjamin. He’ll find out eventually, but I need to buy more time.

  “What do you want with the Canes?”

  “Bit of a presumptuous question. I know how they work and who they work with. If I say the wrong thing to the wrong person, I’m dead.”

  “Okay. Let’s say we are working against Cane and his new buddy Vico.”

  “That makes you Yakuza.” The shock on his face isn’t well hidden. “I want an in to take the Cane empire down. My bad blood is with them alone.”

  “Okay. This could be interesting.” His eyes scrutinize me as he runs his forefinger up the side of his jaw like he’s figuring something out.

  I don’t have time for him to contemplate things. “How do I contact you?”

  “You don’t. Here’s a burner.” He pulls an old model phone from his pocket. “We’ll contact you when my associates and I want to talk with you.”

  “It might be hard for me to get away.”

  “Really? Well, that’s not my problem, as I said. We already have plenty in store to show Cane and Vico they don’t own these streets.”

  Oh, how little he knows. “Very well, Mr…”

  “Call me Andreas.” He offers his hand, and I pause, thinking back to the name that had Gabby clamming up.

  “Mr. Alves.” I take a gamble, but Andreas’ wide eyes tell me it paid off. I don’t offer my name before turning back towards the street where I left Luca.

  “Don’t go too far, Miss Winters.” The shout back sends chills through my body. Believing I had the upper hand galvanised my courage, but the use of my name, knowing that someone in the Yakuza knows who I am, turns all of this into a reality that holds consequences wider than just Benjamin.

  I dip behind the corner of the building and gather my composure, cutting through the small streets to get up onto the main drag. No matter how much I’ve wanted to get close to ruining Cane, how far I’ve plotted and schemed in my head, the realisation of what I’m now facing looms large and dark on the horizon.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I answer. It’s Torino this time.

  “Meet me at Anya’s house. I’m already on my way.” It isn’t quite a lie as I raise my feet to pick up my pace.

  “I thought you were with Luca?”

  “I was, but he had to go with Benjamin. I was in the car, but it will save time if we meet there.”

  “Jeez, Hope. He’s going to kill you.”

  “No, he won’t. I’ll call him.”

  “See that you do.” Torino ends the call and I look out along the street, relief washing over me like a spring breeze at all the nightlife here.

  I dial Benjamin’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Hi, I thought I’d check in with you. I know you said stay in the car, but I couldn’t stand for Anya to hear the news from someone else. Or the police. She deserves a friendly face, and I doubt you’re in any state to be delivering this news. I’ll be home with Torino just as soon as I’ve spoken to her and ensured she’s okay for the night.” I move the phone away and go to hang up but see a black screen.

  “Oh, shit,” I mumble to myself.

  The phone doesn’t switch on, doesn’t even have enough battery to send a text. And I don't know if the voice message went through. Well, that’s his fault for springing a surprise date on me. God knows what that was.

  I step up to the curb and raise my hand, hailing a cab. I’ve just got to get there and prove my lie. I’ll deal with the rest when I get home.

  The cab pulls up outside the address I gave. Torino is standing like a statue outside, waiting to pounce on me. I don’t pay the driver, but as soon as I open the door, he’s over and passing the driver the fare.

  “What the fuck are you playing at, Hope?”

  “You know, Tony was shot earlier for whatever deal Benjamin had going down. I thought Anya, and Tony, deserved a little more respect than Benjamin delivering news in a foul mood.”

  He has the mind to look regretful, hopefully realising what an ass he’s being. He doesn’t have family that I know of. He’s by my side eighteen hours a day—it would be hard to cultivate anything with the pressures of working for Benjamin on his shoulders.

  Genuine grief chokes me for a moment as I consider the world I’m living in, where death is an everyday threat, and the soldiers fighting the war sacrifice more than their morals to keep their king and queen safe.

  Cane, Yakuza and Benjamin. A confusing jumble of feelings swell up inside of me as I try to focus on the words I want to deliver to Anya. She deserves my consideration and my support for everything she’s lost today.

  “Hope?” Torino prompts, confused by my stillness.

  “Give me a minute, all right.” Our eyes lock and for a moment, I’m not the bitch who resents his presence, and he’s not the shadow who is forced to risk his life and bite his tongue. He knows this could be him one day. And he can see, maybe for the first time, that I’m not just the mistress with a cold heart.

  “Sure.” He backs away and lingers off to the side.

  I walk on past and up the steps to the front door, but my hand pauses before I knock. Visions of my mother in her last days invade my mind. I would have given anything to hear, just once, how much she loved me, or that she was pleased to have me in her life. Not even on her deathbed did her opinion of me soften. I was always the burden she had to endure. Her pain was all because of me, and so she punished me.

  I couldn’t have friends over to play because everyone knew my mother was a drunk. Who wanted their children to be supervised by a drunk? And what would we play with? There were no toys in our house. Not new toys. I had a couple of old Barbies when I was younger, and a teddy that was so old and rotten even I wouldn’t choose to snuggle it at night unless I had no other choice. And I didn’t.

  Why she kept me, I don’t know. Foster care or social services would have been better, but she alwa
ys did enough to keep them away. Another punishment.

  Evil things happen in the world. I’ve endured too much to pretend otherwise, and that was before I met Benjamin. My mother named me Hope, but it’s hard to see any hope in the world when you look at it through my eyes. When you’ve suffered at the hands of everyone in your life, all because of a magical family who rule their kingdom with no concern for others.

  Death might be an inevitability for the Benjamins and Tonys of the world, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have people who care about them. Who would come to tell me the news that Benjamin was dead? Would anyone even bother? Or know to? I’m not his wife, just a mistress. Nothing more than a tool he uses. As long as I keep reminding myself of that, my vengeance will seem acceptable, even if it does involve him.

  My knuckles wrap on the wooden door and I wait.

  Nine

  I glare out into the night from my vantage over the city, focusing on the darkness that’s coming. It’s so fucking still out there, a blank sheet ready for me to destroy if I choose to. Yakuza.

  The dull throb of an unanswered call rests against my ear. Straight to voicemail. She's not here, not answering the fucking phone either. They’ve taken her, haven’t they? They think they can hold her over me, use her to force me into doing their bidding. They fucking can’t. She knew the score when she signed up for this side of my life, knew it might come for her one day.

  My eyes focus further into the nothing out there, blankly letting the thoughts ride my mind and show me the way. Maybe she’s against me, too. Maybe this has all been a lie between us, one that’s caused the distraction they needed. That's a long game she's played. My cheek twitches, my pulse heavy in my neck.

  Lies. It's all lies and coercion.

  My fists tighten with rage, fear for her safety, and suspicion, all mingling to cause something I can’t contain. It’s been so long since this feeling overtook me, so long since real fury leveled vengeance at another party rather than intelligent manoeuvring.

  I sneer at my reflection, infuriated at the arrogance that led me to this. I thought that earlier tonight, thought we should be ourselves now, try for fucking happiness somehow. Whatever that is for me. Safe? We were never safe. I was never safe, never untouchable like I thought. And now Tony’s dead and Hope’s gone, the two of them the only things I gave a damn for.

  I end the call and dial again, eyes glazed at the world beyond and my body vibrating against the explosion it’s trying to hold onto.

  Scum. Yakuza scum.

  I lift the gun in my hand, aiming it at my own reflection and barely stopping myself from pulling the trigger. They’re here, all around me, infiltrating and pushing me into a fight they didn’t know was coming. They think they can use this fucking threat as leverage against me? What the fuck do they know about Vico business? They only know the lenient side—the one that’s used nothing but business and intellect to get here and sent a small threat back at them, his eyes gouged out of his fucking face. But they don’t know these streets like I do, don’t know the land that houses generations of us, all of it scattered around waiting to be called into use.

  Voicemail. That’s all this damned phone does. It cuts straight to her barren message, her actual voice not answering it. Fuckers. I will kill every last one of them, bleed them until there’s nothing left of them on the east coast, ripping their eyes from their fucking skulls, and then watch on as they beg for mercy they’ll never get.

  Not now.

  I switch off the call and press in new numbers, making the call I haven’t had to make since I took over round here. Gorgio answers in three rings.

  “Vico?”

  He breathes quietly in the background, waiting for me, and sighs his concerns. He knows, doesn't he? Knows what's coming now. My lips sneer at the memories he must have, the years of my father making the same types of calls before me. I tilt the gun around, lining it up with my eyes, which are glazed back at me.

  “Call them all in, old man,” I mutter, a deadly calm coming the moment I say it. It’ll be nothing like it was back then. No mob bosses working together to make the storm lighter. It’ll be death and crucifixion, my own men expected to die to bring the city back under my control. Just like last time with Sergio. My city. My control. And my fucking power. “Call them in for war.”

  I end the call after that and stare at myself.

  What to make of Cane?

  Maybe it's them. Could be. Or her. It has to be one of them.

  The door opens in the background. I spin, hand raised and pulse vibrating on the trigger, and find Hope making her way into the apartment. She puts her bag down, feet slipping out of her heels, and sighs before finally turning to look at me. Her mouth opens, eyes wide at the gun I’m pointing at her.

  “Benjamin?”

  No one calls me that. No one but her. It’s personal to me, as was she before this. I don’t know what to do with these feelings—hate, paranoia, revenge, relief—they’re all here, mixing and coursing through my veins, boiling beneath my skin. I shake, my hand rattling the gun around slightly. She slows everything in my line of sight, eyes focused on mine. She knows this shit, saw it early on when she first came on board and business wasn't settled.

  “It’s me, Hope,” she placates, walking forward a few steps. I don’t know who she is, though, or if she's on my side at all. Don’t know whose side she’s on anymore.

  She looks around her, glancing at the doors along the side of the room. She’s so fucking pretty, even now. “Put the gun down, Benjamin.”

  I hold it steadier, wondering why she wants me to do that. They’re here. They’re everywhere. They might be outside that door right now. I flick my eyes to it, then back. They could even be her.

  “It’s okay, please,” she says, her hand reaching forward.

  My finger pulls the trigger twice, sending two rounds into the wall behind her, barely skimming her head as they go. She ducks and scuttles sideways to the floor, her eyes full of fear as she yelps out her surprise.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I growl. I’ll kill her if she doesn’t back the fuck off. I glare at her as she curls herself into a ball and hovers there, hands wrapped around her knees. “Where have you been?” One fucking chance. Just one. If I don’t like the explanation, she’s as dead as the bodies Luca’s cleaning up for me.

  “Anya’s house with Torino.” My brow furrows, gun still aimed at her head from across the space.

  “Why?”

  “Tony. She needed to know about him.” The sound of his name from her lips has whatever sanity I’m clinging onto exploding out of me. I storm over, the gun pressed into her skull before she can blink.

  “What do you know?” She doesn’t move a muscle under the metal I’m holding against her. Doesn’t cry or yelp out in fear. “Who the fuck are you?” She just looks at me from beneath it, eyes directed at mine keeping that goddamn calm she’s so good at.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She does. She knows something. She must. My eyes narrow, watching her to gauge her reactions.

  “I just… I just went to Anya. Told her.”

  “I told you to stay in the fucking car.” Her damned eyes drop to the floor, both of them searching for a way out of her fucking predicament. I’ll show her a way out of it in a minute if she doesn’t start talking. It’ll be through the fucking window behind me. “Why didn't you answer your phone? “

  “It’s dead. I was with you, so I didn't think it mattered and…” Lies. Fucking lies. “And Anya needed to know…” The back of my hand has sent her sideways before she can speak any further lies, the gun still in my grip. She tumbles and whimpers, her blonde hair streaming across the carpet as I point it back at her head.

  “You’re part of it, aren’t you?” Tears come then, her hand coming to her face to cover a split lip. I’ve never seen tears from her before. They’re fucking useless here. I don’t give a damn about any more distractions. “You told them, didn’t you, Hope? Told t
hem where to find my goods.” She coughs out a sob and tries to pull up against me, her head pushing back into the metal.

  “Told who what? I haven't…” I shove the gun back against her so quick she splays out on the floor again.

  “What else would make you disobey me?” More fucking sobs and tears. I snarl at them and drop over her, my knees planted each side of her body. “You know what happens when you disobey. Are they paying you?” My hand reaches for her hair. She shakes her head under me, a grunt coming as I yank her face back to me and push the metal into her cheek. “You’re hiding something. Talk before I blow this pretty head off your shoulders.” It is fucking pretty. Always has been.

  My dick hardens, blood rolling through my body. I’ll fuck it out of her if I have to.

  Or maybe I’ll just fuck her anyway.

  Fuck her until I kill the bitch.

  The barrel rolls over her skin, indenting as I remember Tony’s dead eyes. It’s her. I know it’s her. Must be. There isn’t another leak in my team; no one would dare do that. My head whips around to a sound behind me, my gun coming with it to aim at the threat.

  No one. Fuck.

  I shake my head, focusing on Hope again. She smells so good like this, too good. Maybe it's not her. Maybe it's Cane. It’s confusing. Or this room is. I growl at myself, yanking on her hair to get some fucking reality in my grasp.

  “Benjamin, please…” she stutters. I look back at her, replacing the gun to her cheek. “Please. I’m yours. I wouldn’t do anyt—” I push it into her face some more and travel my other hand down her legs to pull her dress up. Maybe getting my dick in her will bring out the lies or make me think clearer. She wouldn't lie, would she? She must have, though. I'll hurt her, make her tell me. Then I'll know if it's her or them.

  I grind the metal in again, watching as the flesh purses under my weight. “You didn't do as you were told, Hope. Why?” My hand levers my belt buckle open, and I grab at my dick to pull it out. She doesn't answer as I yank her dress higher, doesn't even move under me as I force my hand between her thighs and fuck my fingers into her cunt. The gun draws down her cheek, pressing between her lips. “You not gonna talk?” Still nothing but a slight tremble and the occasional moan. It infuriates me further, readying me to pull this trigger after I've fucked the last breath from her.