Forbidden Eyes: A Cane Novel 4

by Hart, Charlotte E

  “What’s the real issue, Sofia?” Her eyes look up at me, ones I could lose myself in for hours—big, bold, hazel rims around near black chocolate depths.

  “I just want to know who my family is, Carter. I want to know what has got them where they are today.” Silence descends, and her eyes flick out towards the bustling streets of Miami. She backs a step away from me, a sigh coming with the next breath. “I’m like a bird in a cage, my wings well and truly clipped. Don’t you understand that? Haven’t you ever felt like there’s something missing?”

  Why would I? I’ve seen everything this world has to offer. Lived it. Delivered it. Because of her family and their needs.

  I frown and tuck my hands in my pockets, unsure what I can do to help her, if anything. Not that I should give a damn about what she wants, but I guess she deserves to see at least some of what I’ve done for them over the years, what they did before me to get where they are now. I can’t help her with Vico, but Cane is something I can do.

  I pull out my phone and call for a car to be brought to us, shaking my head at my own stupid thoughts. I’m either a fool or too damn interested in her for my own good.

  “You cold?” I ask. She shrugs her shoulders and sniffs, refusing to look at me, and I find myself taking my jacket off for her. The fuck am I doing? She folds her arms into it as I put it on her shoulders carefully, and nods in thanks.

  “Alright, Sofia, if you …”

  “Fia. Please,” she cuts in, finally turning to look back at me. “Please. I’d like us to be friends, not enemies. I don’t like arguing.”

  My lips quirk, amused. I’d like us to be anything but either—somewhere in the middle, preferably involving fucking.

  Out. Of. The. Goddamned. Gutter.

  “Alright, Fia. I’ll show you as you’re so determined to find out, but this isn’t your show. Understand? Perhaps if I can fill you in enough to satisfy you, you can take that frown off your face and stop walking the fucking pavement. Deal?”

  The beam that comes back at me could knock me off my damn feet if I think about it too much—bright eyes and a smile worthy of paintings the world over. I stare at her, my mouth at a loss for coherent words, and find myself smiling, too. Something shifts in the atmosphere around us, blurring everything out of view but her. “You should smile more,” she says quietly.

  As should she.

  I blow out a breath and look away from her before she distorts reality too far for comprehension. That isn’t going to be helpful for anyone but my dick. Luckily, the car pulls up beside us, giving me a reason to look away from her. We get in, and I send the driver back on foot so I can do whatever it is that I’m doing. I don’t even know where to go first, what to tell her, but as I pull the car away, and watch her peel my jacket off to expose her soft skin, I realise that whatever I’m doing has nothing to do with talking. Talking is the last thing I want to do. Fucking is what I want. Lots of it. Her mouth on mine. Her naked skin on mine.

  I lick my lips and look out onto the road, heading for the docks and trying to dislodge my thoughts. She can see that first, get a feel for what happened to Gabby and Nate out there.

  “You know Nate’s a tech genius, right?” I say, turning the corners.

  “Yes. Mom keeps saying I should spend some time with him to learn, but Dad’s always been so against it all. That’s another thing I don’t understand. How is being a geek something he should be wary of?”

  My smile grows again, wondering how little she knows.

  “He’s no geek, Fia. Without his knowledge, none of the Cane Empire would be here now. It would all be in the hands of Yakuza. You know that word?”

  “Not really. They’re triads, aren’t they? Chinese?”

  “Japanese. But, yes. Nate stole a lot of money from them to protect Gabby. He took on Quinn to make sure that happened, defied him, and then when that fight had been won because of his smarts, Quinn asked Vico for help to end it all. Your father finished the war they started, and all of that started here.”

  The car rumbles beneath me as I turn into the main docks, and my finger points over to the far quarter. “There’s not much left anymore. Most of it’s been demolished or used for new warehousing, but that new high-rise was where that war started. Andreas was Gabby’s brother. He switched sides and put her in the firing line. Nate wasn’t best pleased.”

  “I don’t understand. My father was here?”

  “No, Quinn took the war to New York after all this. Held it in Vico’s own backyard because he refused to play ball anywhere else. You know that much, surely?”

  She shifts in her seat to look at me rather than the view.

  “But my father’s a businessman.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would he be involved in anything like that? War? You’re talking like he was physically involved in some sort of crime. I thought they were just friends because of my mom being a Cane by birth.”

  Fuck.

  I pull the car to a stop and look over at her, unsure how much more I should say. She’s right. She has been kept in a cage all her life, more so than I thought. By the sound of it, I shouldn’t have said any of that. She quirks her brow at me, interest all over her features. “Why, Carter? I know he’s no angel, but he works with politicians every day of his life. Everything you’ve said makes him sound like some sort of gangster.”

  "He was, Fia. A feared one at that.”

  Still is.

  Regardless of the current climate of peace.

  Her eyes widen at my statement, and my gaze drops away from her to stare out at the docks again. That’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my place to say anything else. She can go home, ask the questions herself and needle the information from her father however she sees fit. How the hell she had no suspicion about his past is beyond me, but I’d be fucking furious if I didn’t know everything I do about Cane. That information is my past. It’s who I am. What they’ve turned me into, anyway.

  I frown for a second and think of my father, the man who was killed by Quinn’s hand. I don’t blame Quinn for it, haven’t done for years. It’s what life was back then, but having her beside me—so innocent of who she is and where she comes from—seems to bring the memories back. At least I know it all, know why and where and who. She knows nothing about who her family really are. Why they are as they are.

  My phone rings, breaking the silence.

  “Wade,” I answer.

  The two-minute conversation has me turning the car around again and pulling straight off the docks to head back over to where I was earlier. A problem. Isn’t there always a fucking problem when it comes to this part of business? The fact that it’s Vico’s problem should have me picking up the phone to Quinn and making him deal with it. I work for Cane, not Vico, and this is a little close to the bone for my liking now I’m sitting here next to the man’s daughter.

  She keeps asking questions the entire drive back towards the hotel I'm dropping her back at. Ones that make me wonder how much she should know.

  Who is he, Carter? Why would you say those sorts of things if you’re not going to give me answers?

  My fingers tighten on the wheel, part of me wanting to show her exactly who her father is. She should know. Anyone with a father like him should understand exactly why she’s been treated the way she has, why her family is so scared for her safety.

  “All my life I’ve been kept inside and told to behave appropriately. I’ve never been allowed to party or make friends. Logan's allowed a life. Why not me?” She laughs bitterly, eyes staring out into the city. “You know why I’m so smart? It helps that I am naturally clever, but it’s because I’ve applied myself. I’ve studied really hard because there’s nothing but study. No life. No chance to enjoy the wealth they clearly enjoy. I can’t even spend my allowance each month. So, to fill the void, I found something that absorbed all of my time. Turns out, I like being absorbed by my work. It’s fascinating and I’m good at what I do.”

  “Che
mistry.”

  “Yes. But that’s not enough. It won’t give me the answers I need.”

  “They’re just trying to protect you, Fia.”

  “I don’t want fucking protection,” she snaps. “I’m an adult. I deserve to know who Benjamin Vico is, what my surname means, and why people look at my father the way they do.”

  My damned hands swing the wheel away from the hotel before I reach it, and I head in the direction of the drop point instead. She wants to see something, she can. Who am I to block her from that? I might be arguing with myself the whole way, but years of being in the middle of Cane has taught me an important lesson in life: know everything.

  Everything.

  There’s not one piece of information I don’t know about Cane. I asked and they answered honestly. No matter my age. Every gory detail. Everything they did to get where they are today. They opened the book and let me in, trusted me.

  She should have that damn information, too.

  The traffic quietens as I start rolling into the back roads, steering through to the old buildings off North St. and Jefferson.

  “Everything you see here stays between you and me, alright?”

  “What?”

  “You get one glimpse. One, Fia. You keep your mouth closed and stay close. Yes? After this, no more.”

  She nods and looks around the dirty streets, taking it all in. I bet she’s never been to a place like this in her whole goddamn life. I flick my eyes over her clothes, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I’m thinking with my dick is what I’m doing. I should cut the damn thing off. “And make yourself look like you’re supposed to be with me. No fidgeting.”

  “Okay.”

  We pull up to the back of the old brickworks, and I cut the engine and look at her. She smiles, face excited and wide eyed. “Replace that look with one your father would wear.” It’s fucking instant. A scowl descends, narrowed eyes that look all Vico and damn near as threatening. Good. Perhaps if she keeps it there, I can imagine him slitting my throat, and then I won’t keep thinking with my dick. “Better.”

  She giggles, brightening the look instantly.

  I’m in so much fucking trouble.

  “Head up. Focused. Keep it zipped.”

  The walk to the doors has me blocking her view of everything, wanting to keep her tucked in behind me where she’ll be safe. One of the guards opens the way inward for us, giving me a nod without acknowledging her, and then Pierre comes into view. He holds out the shipment rota for me, a glare coming from whatever fucking problem he’s got going on.

  “You said three tonnes, Carter. We’ve only cut up two and a half. Where’s the rest? That’s short. And I’m not getting caught up in the middle of Vico’s shit with my father without you signing it off at the Cane end first.”

  Great first fucking line.

  I look along the run of tables, hoping to hell she doesn’t say something stupid, and watch as the packages get bundled into the delivery drums. A guy sifts the flour and grain over them, concealing the product. My eyes flit over the rest of the team. Nineteen women still here, all of them wearing masks and little clothing. They all seem clean that I can see, nothing unusual. Three guys guard the routes in and out, one behind us on the door. I eventually look back at the dick waving a rota in my face, and I find him staring behind me.

  “Who’s this?” he asks.

  “None of your business. Where’s the other half tonne?”

  “The fuck would I know? This is the delivery we were sent.” He starts walking off, flicking pages and talking me through the logistics of the route here. “Unless it’s been offloaded before arriving here and shipped out elsewhere.”

  Not that I know of. And I know everything about this deal. Have done for weeks. “Vico’s team might have siphoned some …”

  “What has my father got to do with this?” Holy shit. My body swings to look at her, hand poised to slap her mouth closed again. “Carter?”

  Pierre stops and turns to look at her, eyes like he’s about to take something far more valuable than drugs. This might be a run for Vico, but this cartel is anything but friendly when it comes to making money. Pierre’s father is renowned for taking anything worthy of a trade. This princess is worth a fortune.

  “You take that look off your goddamn face before I take it off for you,” I snarl, easing my jacket open and blocking her from view. He whistles, and three guards start making their way over, guns being pulled. “Be fucking careful with that thought, Chelico,” I say, pulling her tight in behind me. “One wrong fucking move and this whole deal will blow up in your face. You want Vico or Cane offside?”

  She gasps slightly at the grip my hand has on her hip to keep her in place. Good. She deserves a bit of pain for that stupid ass comment. Perhaps she'll keep her fucking mouth closed now and leave this to me to handle. Because one thing Cane doesn’t do is run, no matter the fucking situation I’ve just put us in.

  Eight

  With so many men’s eyes trained on me, my skin starts to crawl. If I could tuck myself behind Carter any further, I would. Fear snakes through my veins, and for the first time I wish I hadn’t been curious. If I could just have lived with the questions about what my father did and what he and my uncle built their empire on, then we wouldn't be here now.

  The repercussions of my comment start to grow in my mind as the situation shifts, and I mentally kick myself. Carter told me to stay quiet, but what he was saying—the implications of the conversation—sent all his instruction from my mind. What I thought would be a look into the real life my uncle and father lead has turned into an ugly truth I can’t ignore. How could my father sink to this level? He’s the most powerful man I know. He owns New York and classes politicians and senators amongst friends. That doesn’t equate to the piles of drugs being bagged up by nearly naked women in front of me.

  My hand shifts to wrap around Carter's arm and his muscles flex in my touch. He stands rigid and fixed on the men who are now surrounding us.

  My human shield.

  My heart aches. The tiny pieces that splintered on seeing how my father made money, now crush into my chest as it pounds harder and harder.

  “Chelico, back the fuck up.”

  Carter rips his arm from my hold and grabs the gun he’s been carrying. He swings his arm and aims it directly at the guy who’s been raving about the deal.

  “I thought you were smart, Carter. Bringing Vico’s daughter to a deal?”

  “Get your head back on the deal. Don't piss me off, Pierre.”

  The man whistles again, and my eyes dart to the side where two other men advance on us. “Carter!” I pull on his arm to bring his attention to them. I might be comfortable stopping a guy in a bar putting his sleazy hands on me, but defending myself against guys with guns?

  Still, the man I'm hiding behind is like stone while I start frantically grabbing for his jacket. He doesn’t move as he weighs up the situation we're in because of me. His eyes flick around, his hand going to his jacket slowly for something. It's a knife—a knife! I watch him hold it out behind him, protecting me, or maybe us, from all angles, as if this is perfectly normal for him.

  “Last warning,” Carter states, as calmly as if he’s ordering a drink. "You're beginning to wake me up, Chelico." His head slowly moves back and forth between the men around us, his gun moving to cover all threats.

  “Easy, Carter. You can walk away. Nobody will know, and we can forget about the missing drugs. I might have read the paperwork wrong.” The creep grins, showing a gold tooth.

  “Please don’t let them take me,” I whisper, my fingers pressed tightly against the fine fabric of Carter’s suit. My eyes shut against his back, hoping he’s the only one who can hear me.

  Right now, I feel like a child compared to his cool demeanour, but I can’t resent that. It might be the only thing that lets us walk out of this.

  There’s the smallest of movements from him; it might not even be movement at all, rather my mind telling
me he’s answered me, but I take it as acknowledgement that he heard me at least.

  “One chance, Chelico. One. You back the fuck up. Let us leave quietly, and maybe I won’t end this meeting in the way I know best.” Carter's voice seems so bland. Passionless. Devoid of any warmth or care. “I’d say the first option is better for you all round, because I guarantee you won’t like the other one that's coming for you.”

  The guy laughs, a cruel cackle that has bile rising in my throat at the thought of where this may end up. Before I can squeeze Carter’s hand, hoping perhaps to salvage something of my stupidity, he moves. The gun trains on Pierre, and a dull ping from the silencer whizzes through the air. He drops in front of us, and before I can blink, Carter pivots, keeping me behind him, and throws his knife at one of them. It's all so quick, so unimaginable. His gun keeps shooting, again and again, until everyone's on the floor.

  The women in the room stare. I thought there would be screaming, but they simply stop and watch. Carter looks around him at the bodies, closing in on the one with a knife stuck into his neck. I can't breathe. I’m surrounded by dead men, and one coughing and spluttering blood from his mouth. I retch, unable to process what just happened, as I watch Carter lift the knife out slightly and then slit it along the jugular.

  My hands go to my mouth, sickness, shock and fear climbing up my throat. And then Carter has his hand in mine, pulling me after him without a word.

  “You don’t say anything. Don’t even open your goddamned mouth, got it?”

  I nod, not even wanting to ignore his command in order to acknowledge it. I’m hauled in the direction of the door, feet tumbling to keep up in my heels, but I can’t help but look back. Bodies lie crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from wounds because of my outburst. Nausea turns in my stomach, and my breathing quickens, dragging in short, shallow breaths as I wrap my mind around what's happened.