He doesn’t answer, just kneels on the wet ground, fingers still wrapped around my arm as I lean into his ear. My fingers lever the metal from his skull, pointing it in front of him instead to let one round off as a warning. It sings in the air, the sound of fucking death coming with it, causing the fucker to jump a little under me. “Give me a reason to trust you, Cane.”
Silence again.
Until.
“Let me answer the fucking phone and I might be able to,” he grunts out, trying to shake me off him again. He digs around in his jacket, pulling the thing from his pocket and holding it up. “Better still, answer it your goddamn self. Dick.”
The sole of my shoe kicks him forward onto his hands, and I snatch at the phone, leaving him ass up in the fucking air. Nathan's name flashes at me, three missed calls along with it.
“What?” I snap into it.
“Vico? Where’s Quinn?”
“Being my bitch.” I smirk as he rises back up onto his haunches, his eyes whipping back to mine. “What do you have?”
“Trucks abandoned on a side road outside New York. It’s off route.” My brow furrows as I tuck my gun back where it belongs and grab my jacket from the floor. “From what I can see, three bodies around it. Back doors wide open.” I turn back to look at Quinn, wondering when my little bitch is gonna get back on his feet.
“And you know this how?”
“Because I sent a drone out searching. Stupid fucks have no security around those. Not enough for me anyway.” I nod at Luca as he comes over to my side, eyes flicking at the car, which he heads to get.
“Feds don’t know?” I grab out my own phone, pulling Harvey's name up.
“Not yet.” I look around at the boys, pointing them towards their own vehicles. “Won't be long before something's sent in, though. I'll try to block the communications for a while. Should give you around thirty minutes.” I'm gonna need more than that.
“Good. Send me the location. We’ll get to it now.”
I end the call and turn to walk backwards, amused at Quinn now he’s finally on his feet and brushing off a suit that is fucked beyond all recognition. My arms stretch out, fingers waving some more in my direction, egging him on for more.
“You coming, bitch?”
Luca starts the engine behind me and pulls around slow, so I open the door and get in, unsure if I should shut the damn thing and leave a Cane rotting on these docks.
“Don’t you dare, Vico,” he says, fingers on the frame before I get the chance. How the hell did he get here so quick? I peer up at him from the car, waiting for something to clarify who the fuck he is to me. Friend? Enemy? Just another one like me, lurking in the gloom ready to take everything that’s mine? “You try that shit again and I’ll kill you myself.” My brow arches as he slides in and faces me, every violent undertone he’s got trying to hold back from discharging in my direction. “Next time I won’t hold back.”
Cute.
I chuckle and turn from him, eyes focused through this goddamn window as Luca drives us out of the dock. I don’t know what the fuck Quinn and his brother are up to yet, but one thing’s for damn sure: we’ll be doing that shit again sometime.
And soon.
Sixteen
Something wakes me. A noise? I crack one eye open and realise I’m not in my bed but curled up on the sectional in the living room. I straighten, embarrassed that I’ve fallen asleep, and disorientated. This isn’t like me. I’m not this girl. I’m sharp, professional, and ready for any situation. I look to the clock—five in the morning.
The last thing I remember is talking with Emily, but she’s not here with me. I unfurl my body and stretch, noting my casual yoga pants and cami top. Another noise, this time I can discern voices. My hands run over my hair, attempting to smooth it down as I stand and prepare to meet Benjamin coming through the door.
My heart thunders in my chest, and my palms begin to sweat at what I’m about to be met with, but at least he’s back. Alive. I release a breath and try to mentally prepare because I know—I know that he’ll be furious. Whatever deal or plan was planned for tonight hasn’t gone according to his plan, and that’s because of me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I hear him grumble and at his words, I straighten my back.
“Not particularly. We’ve got shit to sort.”
Quinn’s with him.
My feet inch closer so I might catch them as they pass. It’s Quinn’s eyes that glance at me first. He stops, and his gaze slides over me from head to toe. I’ve had men look at me like I was a possession, something for them to enjoy all of my life, or at least since I started putting myself on the menu, so to speak. But Quinn’s eyes turn my stomach.
“Get your fucking eyes off her,” Benjamin growls from beside him. I instinctively cross my arms over my chest, but I don’t retreat.
He doesn’t move for a moment but keeps his eyes rooted to me. The heat from my guilty soul creeps over me, and I have to take a sudden inhale of breath to try to calm my heart. He can see. He can see that I’m his sister. Either that, or he knows that I have traitorous bitch tattooed over my head. Traitorous because of him.
“I won’t tell you again.” Benjamin steps up to Quinn, his threat delivered. It makes my heart break a little. He’s defending me, possessive of me, yet that wasn’t enough to curb my need to get to Cane and betray him. The part of my heart that’s breaking disagrees.
“Fuck off, Vico.” Quinn snaps, turning to him. “You have her parading around at all fucking hours. Who the hell is she anyway?”
Benjamin’s arm is so fast, so exact that I wonder how he doesn’t knock Quinn out cold. He does sprawl backwards, his arms out as he staggers and falls against a conveniently placed side table.
The shift in his face is immediate. Gone is the man I’ve seen with Emily, now replaced with something wild and sinister. All of it aimed directly at Benjamin, as he levels back up. He steps forward, a hard glare aimed back at me then towards Benjamin again. “She was in this room, Vico. Who the fuck is she?” Everything stops. Sound. Movement. Even the beat of the city outside dulls to nothing as I listen to those words.
My eyes flick to Benjamin as my heart begins to race. I keep my stance, aiming for arrogance, and hoping I don’t look as guilty as I feel. This could be it. The end.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask as firmly as I dare. There's a flicker in his eyes, a half thought. It's one that has me lifting my chin higher in the hope I appear forthright. “What has happened?”
Neither of them answers, but Benjamin turns his attention back to Quinn. They just glare at each other, dismissing me from whatever they're about to do. I can feel their energy vibrating enough to take a step backwards and retreat from the firing line.
It's in that second that Quinn turns to me, reaching his hand out, that all hell lets loose.
My cry sounds weak to my ears, and I watch in disbelief as they start to grapple like fighters trapped in a cage. The thuddy punches and scuffles drown out any other thoughts in my mind as I watch on, riveted. “Stop it! Both of you. Stop!”
Nothing stops. It gets worse. Dark red streaks splatter the wall as their grunts grow more pained, arms and fists driving into each other.
I flee to the entrance, listening to the crashes of objects getting trashed and hoping that Torino might still be here, but I run straight into a wall of hard muscle instead.
“Hey, easy.” His deep voice and soft hands on my shoulders should offer some comfort, but they don’t. Not coming from my brother.
I snatch myself back, hating the thought.
“What are you doing here?” I accuse.
“I came up with Quinn. I was talking to Gabby on the phone.” Nathan’s eyes look confused for a moment, but he covers that quickly, distracted by the sounds coming from the other room. He pulls his hand around to the back of his suit and palms a gun, bringing it around his body and steadying it with his other hand.
“What the fuck, Nathan?
There's no threat. It's just—”
He ignores me and with his legs in a slight crouch, he stalks towards the room I left the pair of them fighting in.
“Don’t, Nathan. You don’t need a fucking gun.”
“If Vico is in there with Quinn, I might. Go!” He shouts the last command, but I won’t let him go in and shoot Benjamin. The plan was for the Cane family to suffer, not to bring further turmoil around my own life.
“No.” I step in front of him. “Not with a gun.” Blood rushes through my veins, but I know it’s what I need to do. My legs begin to quiver, betraying my fear.
“Fuck, Hope. Come on. They’ll kill each other. Trust me. Quinn isn’t to be messed with.” He doesn’t hide the tension well and all but seethes the words through his clenched teeth.
“Then stop them. Without the gun.” I put my hand out, terrified to hold something that dangerous, but unwilling to have Benjamin at any further risk than I'm already putting him in.
Nathan stares at me, challenging me, and then tries to get around me again. I move straight back in front, blocking the gun with my stomach and reaching for it. I'm deadly serious. No fucking guns. He huffs and places the gun into my palm, so I finally step aside and let him in to break them up.
The weight in my hand is solid, heavier than I’d have expected. I can feel the power and danger running through my skin. My eyes are transfixed, imagining all of the pain that this weapon has instilled in others, the bloodshed and hurt that it’s caused. Hurt like that of my mother’s.
“Shut the fuck up!” Benjamin bellows. It snaps me out of my introspection, and I race into the other room. Quinn is bloodied and bruised, lying on his back with a joker smile over his face. Nathan is standing in front of Benjamin, holding him back with all the weight of his body. It looks like he’s been drawn into the fight as well.
My feet pace over the glossy wooden floor, slowly walking towards the mayhem. My senses dull, as if I’ve been submerged in water. All I can see is Quinn. Quinn and the memories of my mother. Every single bad word she ever muttered to me echoes in my ear. He looks so much like his father. My father.
The hand with the gun lifts, and it takes more of an effort than I thought, but I hold it forward, my arm locked out, straight in front of me. The muzzle of the gun points to one target—the target for all of my hate—and for the first time in years, the feel of vengeance within my grasp sweeps over me.
Silence drops over the three of them, all of them only concerned with my actions.
“Hope?” Quinn’s messed up face looks quizzically at me, although he’s not afraid. He’s cocky, sure that I’ll never fire. But he doesn’t know me. Not the real me—the one that’s been consumed with hate for the man in front of me all of my life. I sidestep, dazed with the power I now hold. Me. All that power in my hands. I just need to squeeze the trigger. One shot and it's all done.
“Hope.” This time the voice is Benjamin’s, and it’s so soft it breaks through my haze. Nothing like the tone he usually addresses me with. This reminds me of our time together at his house. My house.
I turn to him, hand shaking slightly. His eye is bloodshot, red and purple marring his cheek where Quinn must have landed several hits. “Give me the gun, Hope. Hand it over.” His words register, but I don’t want to lose the grip on this opportunity. I could end everything now. Squeeze my finger and put a bullet in Quinn’s head. Turn around and get Nathan, too. But do I really want them dead? Is everything working towards killing? Ruin and pain were what I was striving for when I first set out on this path. I needed it, still do. I've been polluted with such hatred that I’m now standing ready to pull the trigger and kill someone. Two someones. My brothers.
My eyes narrow at all of them, Benjamin included, as my toes press into the floor beneath me and I consider his request. If I give up the gun, I may end up hurting more than I ever wanted to, but surely that would be better than murder? My head shakes, confused about what's best to do.
End it. Don't.
I look into Benjamin’s eyes, seeing the man at the beach house, the one who almost loved me for a day and night.
“It's all right. Give it to me.” He reaches his hand to me slowly, creeping closer and smiling as if he's trying to temper me down. “Hope?” It's such a nice voice, calm, relaxed. “Come on, baby.” My brow furrows, knowing that this isn’t the way I wanted it all to play out. I don't want anyone dead, not really.
Hatred or not.
The tension finally seeps from my shoulders because of his hypnotic words, and I steadily lower the weapon and look to hand it to him, but he snatches it from my grip.
My body tenses immediately, anticipating the sharp slap to my cheek, but it doesn’t come. Instead, a strange, beguiled expression covers Benjamin’s face, something I’ve not witnessed before.
“Sorry,” I mutter, tearing myself from the spot I’ve been rooted in. I rush to leave, and all but run into Emily, not noticing her until now. She doesn’t say a word, and I step around her and head to the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I fall behind it, crashing back against the wood as I suck in air that refuses to cooperate and fill my lungs. Darkness creeps at the edge of my vision again, but I fight it away. I stand and tilt my head to the ceiling, pulling in slow, deep breaths to get myself under control.
There’s no way in hell I’ll allow myself another blackout like earlier. Yesterday? Hell, I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Did I really just think about killing people? My head shakes, hands trying to steady the buzz inside it.
I listen for a few moments to see if any footsteps approach. Benjamin wouldn’t usually come after me for any reason. There has never been a reason other than sex, but then again, I've never threatened another man’s life in front of him before. What do I say now? That I thought he was in danger?
I need to calm down. Think.
When my breathing eventually evens out, I head to the bathroom. The light illuminates my wild eyes and the mess that I’m in. I pride myself on always being put together, not a hair out of place. Well, seems that stopped last night. I'm a mess. Dark circles rim my eyes, my hair untamed and straw-like, and the thin cami top I’ve been sleeping in leaves little to the imagination.
With a new wave of determination, I change into the goddamn jeans Benjamin keeps going on about, and a shirt, before running the comb through my hair a hundred times. I need to get a grip, pull myself together. It's not surprising Quinn said that stuff out there. What I'm looking at in the mirror is nothing like me. Who the fuck is she? If only he knew. Not that he will until it's too late.
With all the knots banished, I tie it in a loose topknot, brush my teeth and add a little balm to my pale lips. It’s far from my usual self, but hopefully I’ve lost the crazy girl look.
I step out of the room, waiting for sounds before proceeding to the kitchen. The clock on the cooker reads seven in the morning, and I’m surprised to be greeted with the sight of Emily busily getting coffee and breakfast things together.
“Good morning,” I offer, suddenly affronted by another woman in my kitchen.
She doesn’t respond right away, but simply carries on pouring the hot water, humming to herself, before she walks up to me. The stinging pain I had been waiting for from Benjamin, sears across my cheek.
“Don’t you ever point a gun at my husband again.” The threat sounds strange coming from her. This small, delicate flower that I’ve seen and spoken to suddenly has thorns that are sharp as hell. I grip the side of my face, glaring at her.
“He deserved it.” The words won’t make sense to her, but they do to me.
“Well, next time if you feel like making a threat, at least make it count. You can’t show any weakness. Not in this world.” Her eyes dart from me and she goes back to using my kitchen.
I stand, watching her as she pulls a batch of what I think is pancake batter from the fridge and starts to ladle it into a hot pan.
“Take the coffee through. They’re in the office, but I
suspect they’ll eat in the dining room. It will be about ten minutes,” she snaps, dismissing me with a blank stare and unsettling me further.
I take the tray with the coffee through, pushing the door open with my backside and then turn into the room. The three of them are all slouched in the chairs around the low coffee table at the far end. Worn out and certainly worse for wear, bruises all over their features. Except for Nate. He’s a little more together than his companions and smiling for some reason.
“Would you like me to get you some ice?” I offer to all of them as I set the tray down.
“Ice? You want to give me ice now?” Quinn scoffs and turns away from me, disgust in his eyes. A thick depression, like a fog, mutes them all after that. It hangs heavy, filling the atmosphere with animosity, as if they’re all spent from their fight earlier.
“Coffee,” I say to no one, turning to leave the room.
Benjamin seizes my wrist before I can move. He looks up at me, searching for something. My face masks into bland and unreadable, just as I've trained it to do. Just as he's trained me to become all these years.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” I mutter as I tug my arm from his hold. My voice is timid, and I hate it. I hate what this night has made me, what I’ve done to myself.
The kitchen is filled with warm and comforting smells when I return. Emily is at the stove, a pile of pancakes growing by her side. My eyes narrow at her, wondering what else she's got to say to me. Maybe I deserve it from her, not that she understands why, but…
“There’s bacon in the grill. Can you turn it?” she asks, light as a feather. “And have you got juice?”
I set about compiling the items she lists for me, placing them on the side. Fruit juice plus the pancakes, bacon and some eggs that she starts to prepare. I take it all through, and the men seem to emerge from the office of their own will, drawn by the scent of food. Their conversation doesn’t falter, though, and I pick up a few words here and there.
Retaliation. Trust. Betrayal. Vengeance.
Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3 Page 16