Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3

by Hart, Charlotte E

  I take my own cup back out and slump into a chair off from the main table where they are pulling their breakfasts together. Exhaustion zaps every part of my body, and I feel myself disconnect from what’s happening around me. This has all been set in motion due to me, my actions to take my own vengeance. It's fast becoming a reality that will hurt the man I love.

  “Hope?”

  “Sorry?” All eyes are riveted to me. Nate, Quinn and Benjamin all look at me as if I’ve grown a third head.

  “Why don’t you go and help Emily in the kitchen?” Benjamin’s words are placating, like I’m a small child being told to leave the adults to their conversation.

  I look around the table and realise I’m not wanted, so retreat to the bedroom, not content to face my new friend after our morning confrontation. She was so concerned last night. Genuinely worried for me. That's not who she is at the moment. Nowhere near. Perhaps we all have masks we wear in this world. It seems there might be more than one or two secrets for us to hold onto.

  The mattress catches me gently as I fall down. I curl into myself, searching for my inner strength, that core that has seen me through so much. But at the moment, it doesn't even keep me standing.

  A gentle vibration pulls my concentration, and I search for my phone, but it’s not mine. It’s the burner phone, hidden away, but still vibrating to catch my attention.

  Time to prove how much you hate the Canes.

  Pick up the fucking phone when I ring

  Last chance

  My fingers fly over the keyboard.

  What do you want? You’ve had your intel.

  I wait, the moments dragging on as if the seconds don’t want to tick past.

  And that’s proved to us that you can be useful. Time for another meeting.

  I’ve told you. It’s not easy to meet. My terms, not yours.

  Not anymore. Same place. Tonight. 11 p.m.

  Dread coils in my gut.

  And if I can’t make it?

  Then we’ll assume that you want Vico to know of your involvement with us. 11 p.m.

  I turn the phone off and tuck it back away inside an old purse in the drawer by the bed. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes and my throat constricts as emotion chokes me. The door opens and I turn away, hiding the weakness that my emotions have cracked open inside of me.

  “Hope, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

  Benjamin storms in, the tone of his voice leaving no room to question his mood. The calm has gone, along with those placating words he used earlier. I guess the perfect woman who’s been on ‘duty’ for the last two years seems to have deserted me, and him, in the face of my actions.

  “I’m sorry.” I turn and sit up. I need to see his face, his eyes, if I’m going to explain this to him.

  “You pulled a gun on Cane. Do you remember what I asked you?” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember that I needed you to stay close to him?”

  I nod.

  “I’d say that’s pretty fucking futile now.”

  I look up to him, try to gauge his mood and read what his next action will be. Fuck me, beat me, a bit of both? It sounds so harsh in my head, but I know that after the storm, comes that magical moment of peace where he lets me in. When I can feel my heart brim and salvage enough to keep me going until the next moment.

  He engulfs me in his chest, surprising me. I grip on, rubbing my head into the shirt and jacket still stained with the blood from the earlier fight. I don’t care and keep burrowing myself as close to him as I can.

  “I’m sorry. I thought he would kill you. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I don’t care what happens to them, but I can’t lose you.” I sob into his chest and just let it out. His body stiffens for a moment before his strength returns, and I feel it blanket me like a cloak.

  “You’ll never lose me.” He tilts my head up to him. “I’m Benjamin Vico. That,” he says, nodding back to the room, “is business. Just don’t fucking pull a gun on anyone again. Unless they have one aimed at me. Then, I’d expect you to fucking shoot without hesitation. Got it?”

  I nod and a crack of hysterical laughter bubbles from my throat. God, I’m going mad.

  Madly in love, maybe. That’s my new goal. Get out of this mess with my life on track, and with any luck, my heart as well. Although, when Benjamin finds out about me—that I've betrayed him—I'm not so sure he won’t break both for his own revenge.

  Seventeen

  “Here.” Quinn presses a folder against my chest as we walk down Fifth Avenue.

  “What is it?”

  “Every Yakuza stronghold in town,” he says, tugging his scarf higher. I flick over the first page, my eyes scanning places I already know with little care. “One is of particular interest to me, regardless of where the drugs went.”

  “Why?”

  “The bitch deserves a beating.”

  Sounds like my kind of party.

  I cross over to Madison, head down against the wind, and hustle for the office doors. Barney opens it with a wave of his arm and a nod at me. “Mr. Vico.”

  Quinn mutters something under his breath, making me look at him for more explanation. He's done a lot of muttering in the last two days, and if he's about to say something about Hope and that gun again, I'll fucking kill him.

  “What?” he says.

  “You got something to say?”

  “No.”

  Fine. I’ve got no time for pissing about with words anyway.

  I stride on, banking left for the elevators to get me to the other brother who is still all over my systems. We rise up through the floors, numbers flashing in my eyeline. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got time for. That and killing anything that gets in my fucking way. The main priority being whoever had the goddamn gall to take my goods.

  “Actually, the fuck was that gun aimed at my head for on the docks?” he snaps as we walk out into the office. “And all that shit when we got back to the apartment?” The whole room stops and looks at both of us.

  “Bonding,” I reply, chuckling and walking towards the corner office Nathan’s appropriated as his own.

  “Bonding?” he asks, as we walk into the room. I smile and look at the other brother, three screens on display and the blinds drawn.

  “Yeah.” It's as close as I get to it, and he's not dead for challenging me about Hope, so… “Bonding.”

  He shakes his head at me and walks straight over to the desk, reaching his hand over Nathan’s shoulder to work the keys and bring something up on screen. My brow arches at his competence, eyes watching as he scans something and then relays another set of numbers into whatever Nathan’s doing.

  “You’re both in my systems?”

  “They were fucking archaic, Vico. I was in before he was,” Quinn mumbles, both of them now looking at the graph that’s up on the screen. I wander around the desk and look at it, too, noting the spread of lines coming out of one single hub. A map of sorts, figures and plans attached to the side of each line. “They’re not now.” Good. I’m changing that fucking password again the moment this shit is done. Not that that seems to keep these pair out.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “This is your new way of seeing threat vectors,” Nathan says, leaning back so I can get a good look at it. “I’ve even put us on it to dampen that suspicion down. We all know how fucking paranoid you are.” Cunt. My brow arches, amused at his balls while in my fucking space. “You get everything in one place. See?” He runs his fingers over the graphs, stopping where the maps move around to point out organisations throughout the US, including all my own. “I can extend it to other countries, but I’ve only had time for this so far.” He pulls up another screen on a nearby laptop. “And this. This is what both you and Quinn need. This is New York and the surrounding area.”

  I look at it, tracing the lines of roads and streets, highlighting every dodgy deal of any serious level in my city. I glance at him, intrigued by how much they know of my town. Not
that he's giving me anything I don't already know. “The politicians of crime are something you’ll have to fill in later, but the general layout is there, and this,” he says, pointing at a particular red dot on the screen, “is the place we can retaliate hardest.”

  “Westbrook and Sixth?” It means nothing to me.

  “Yeah. That’s Yakuza stronghold here in town. It’s under the back vaults in The Emperor’s Chalice. We’ve been trying to find it for a while from Chicago. It was only when Gabby followed your man that I managed to get some serious intel.”

  “My man?”

  “The one you sent to tell Yakuza of the triple deal?” The hell was she following him for? And why send a woman at all? He raises his brow at me and then looks back at the screen. “Trust goes two ways, Vico.”

  “You sent your woman to snoop on me?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know what she’d been up to until she got back.” Quinn laughs at me as I watch them both. “She followed your guy into the restaurant, watched as he headed out back to the whore house, and then ended up being Gabby and getting into shit she shouldn’t have been anywhere near.”

  “Once a thief, always a thief,” Quinn cuts in. Nathan snarls, tinged with a sense of pride.

  “Still, the safe codes were hacked to get her through into the vault, then she found the door into the main rooms behind. It was empty at the time, but she got hold of that folder.” He nods at the one I’m still holding. “I’ve inputted most of the relevant data from it, but the really interesting bit is the last page. Hisa. She’s the one we’ve been after all along. She went quiet after I took the money from them.” He looks back at the screen, focusing again as Quinn walks around the desk to me.

  “I'd assumed it was because the family would have killed her for what Nate did,” he says. “Normal fucking behaviour for them. But no. She’s here in New York. Your backyard, Vico.”

  “Who is she? I only know of Hazuki in New York. He's been the chief here for years.”

  “Yeah, well, our intel suggests she’s far higher up the ranks than him. She's the granddaughter of Yakata-Kai, Japan's answer to God,” Nate mutters, still flicking his fingers over two keyboards. “That means whatever hold you’ve had here is coming to an end unless you stop with all the goddamned paranoia. And, while we're at it, I swear to God, you ever put a gun to Quinn's head again, I'll return the favour. You got me?”

  Quinn sits on the desk, his arms folded, and a smile on his face as his brother stares me down from behind. I smirk. He's turned sharper, more aggressive. Bullish even. Or stupid. But useful in more ways than one. At least regarding his family.

  I back away from the pair of them, taking my coat from my shoulders so I can sit. “We didn't come here to destroy you, Vico. We came to help.” Quinn brings my attention back to him.

  “Fuck you. You came here because you needed a show of strength against the Yakuza and I’m the only one big enough.”

  “Yeah, well. Same shit different day.”

  There’s silence for a while after that. They keep looking at their screens, muttering with each other, and I watch on, accepting that after all that’s happened so far, maybe they can be of some help as well. Trust is, as they say, a two-way affair. And for now, I do trust them. Why would they bother offering all this shit up if not to work together?

  “You up for a party?” Quinn asks, swiveling his chair back towards me and pulling out his gun. I keep gazing at him for a few seconds. Loading. Reloading. He's ready without much thought on the matter, eyes focused. I’m amused at this sidekick I’ve suddenly acquired. Nathan hovers his fingers and turns.

  “Quinn, you can't just … There will be civilians. And we still haven't talked about Andreas. . .” The glare that is sent back to Nathan is harsher than I've seen between them before now. It's full of animosity and threat, something that stops the rest of the sentence dead.

  “You coming?” Quinn asks me, still staring his brother down as he stands. Nathan stands, too, feet and mouth primed to act stupidly given their connection.

  “What is this?” I ask, intrigued. My hand whips back and forth between them. “Because it's entertaining me.” Both brothers look at me. “You’re like a perfect team most of the time, but this… this keeps creeping in with you two, like there's something you're not letting me in on.” They look back at each other again, barely interested in my question.

  “You knew this would come, Nate,” Quinn states as his eyes peel to Nathan, waiting for a comeback, but big brother carries on. “They all need ending, Andreas included.”

  Little brother seems conflicted about what they're discussing, fidgety. I smirk. He doesn't like it, does he? Doesn't like the sweet smell of death and chaos. Some Cane brother. I was right. He’s weak, even if he is smart.

  “You want me to save a piece of him for you?” I ask, rising from my chair to put my coat back on again. “Cut his eyes out for your woman to reminisce over?” He glares at me for that, taking a half step in my direction like he's about to rip my fucking head off. That's more like it. “This version of you is better, Nathan. Keep it up.”

  He grumbles and turns back to his screens. Probably wise. I'm in no mood for weak or distracted, regardless of my joviality. We've got a joint enemy to destroy in the only way they seem to understand. Death.

  “You ready?” I ask the only brother who's capable of serious intent. I don't bother waiting either. I head straight back out into the lobby towards the elevator, checking my gun as I go.

  Time to finish this.

  * * *

  “See?” Quinn points out, tipping his chin at the blacked-out SUVs parked up round the side. I flick my eyes over them as his dice turn in his hand. Other than five of them being there, there's nothing overtly threatening. “That usual on your streets?”

  “Could be.”

  “That's planning.”

  “Maybe.”

  My eyes scan the road, too, noting the normality of this end of town. Street food. Neon signs highlighting crappy restaurants and back-end whore houses. People milling around. It's no wonder I barely come here. The fucking place is nothing more than peasants and whores.

  “I've already scouted it. We can get in…”

  He doesn't get to finish the rest of his sentence. I'm walking across the road to the entrance of the restaurant before he blinks, sucking in the stench of cheap Chinese food in the air. He can join me if he wants, but either way, I'm going in. At fucking pace.

  “The hell, Vico?” he says, catching up with me.

  “I’m bored.” I keep walking, heading straight for the doors.

  Dragons greet me, gold filigree swirling around the edges of the huge frame like some adage to a country that does not exist in mine. Fucking dragons. They come here with their bullying tactics, after I’ve allowed them some space in my city, and dare to encroach further than they're offered? Let alone stealing from me.

  Enough.

  The door bursts in with help from my foot. I scan, ignoring the diners, and look for the back doors Nathan was talking about. Two guys dressed in black glare at me from a far-end table, one of them immediately getting up and stepping through the doors behind him. The other stands, too, as I press through the tables and draw out my gun. He draws his own, eyes turning to slits at my advance. The fucking shot that comes over my shoulder has me ducking and spinning, ready to fire as the entire restaurant scrambles out of the way. Quinn frowns and comes at me, his gun still aimed at the doors we’re heading for. He pulls out another one, a smirk suddenly appearing on his face.

  “You wanna give me some warning?”

  “Guess I’m bored, too,” he says, walking straight past me. He dodges a guy, pushing him out of the way in the chaos around us. Chairs scrape, tables flip up, women scream and hustle as their men shove them towards the door. I’m at Quinn’s back before they’ve left, my own gun aimed behind us.

  “You’re a goddamn maniac,” I chuckle out, eyeing up the room.

  “You came in fi
rst,” he mutters, quieting his tone as he hovers at the doors. “Nice fucking announcement that we’re here.”

  I look down at the guy he shot, blood dripping out of his skull, and grab at the gun in his hand. Seems like we’re going to fucking war in a restaurant.

  “I was aiming for talk.”

  “No, you weren’t. Don’t get pissy ‘cause I got the first shot in.”

  I snort and scan the area again, eyes flicking back to him as he presses through the doors. “Clear, get around me,” he mutters, giving me room to pass him through to the kitchens. Three chefs hold up their hands, knives in all of them. I nod at them, aiming to get them to put the carvers down. Two of them do, slowly, but the other one? I lose a round without thought and send the fucker to the ground, annoyed at him even thinking about it.

  “Where?” I ask. He comes to my side and then crosses through to the end of the room, hands reaching for a pad by the side of a freezer unit to key something in quick.

  “Gotta give it to the woman, she’s a thief and a half,” he says, nodding at me to brace as the door begins to pull. “You ready?”

  Always.

  My arm hovers over his shoulder, our bodies touching to keep the aim precise. There’s nothing but an empty vault room when it widens enough for me to see in, but the opposing door holds all kinds of trouble behind it. I can tell by the noise echoing into the space from behind the walls.

  “You got a code for that, too?” I ask. He nods and looks around, gun aimed high and sweeping the room as he creeps into it, and I follow, covering our backs.

  The dull thud of another code being accepted drones in my ear, reminding me of what’s coming as feet scrambling and shouts can be heard. I wait until the last second, listening to the slide of the metal door opening before turning and emptying rounds straight into the room over his shoulder. We both spin back-to-back, gauging out how many are here. Two dead already, one more blasted backwards as Quinn starts firing. I search the corners, eyes focused on anything that moves as I assess the threat. Nine that I can see. No fucking woman, though.