She finally notices me, and her eyes glance me over, tongue rolling over her lips. Yeah, she’s up for it. I lift the bottle and swig some more tequila, watching as she makes her way over to me.
“Hey,” she says, getting her body up nice and close.
“Hey.”
“What’s your name?” she asks. The hell does that matter? I keep my stare fixed on her mouth, trying to imagine Fia’s voice. “I’m—” I lean in, kissing the name away before she lets it out into the air. I don’t give a fuck what her name is, and I let her know that by yanking her body up closer to mine.
Cheers go up around me, and all the noise brings me back to the here and now rather than the abyss I’m hoping to fall into. Fuck. She tastes sour, like she’s been downing lime shots or some shit. Where are the strawberries? I break off, eyes staring at hers as I try to process someone else’s face. Jesus.
“Wow,” she splutters out, all smiles and giggles again. “Hi to you, too.”
I don’t know what the fuck happens then, but something takes hold in my head. I feel wrong, like my whole goddamn body is baulking against what I’m trying to achieve. I look at her starting to dance in front of me again, already bored by the look of her up so close.
Jesus, I need to get my shit together. My head shakes. I need to fuck, that’s all. Get drunk and fuck. And ignore this damn phone that keeps vibrating in my pocket.
Vacation. Time out. I’m not fucking looking at it. I’m looking at this woman and getting up inside her as soon as possible.
Someone’s hand reaches for mine—the brunette’s. My head whips to look at her instead, maybe thinking I’ll be more interested in her. I’m not, and the fact that my feet are walking backwards without me even asking them to should give me a fair indication of what the hell is happening. I’m fucked up over a woman, aren’t I?
A Vico woman.
I growl at my own situation, but it doesn’t stop me walking away like my body is refusing to cooperate with my thoughts. Or maybe it is influencing my thoughts. Fuck knows. I’m a mess. Carter Wade—fucked up. I down some more tequila and head into the crowd again, confused about what the hell I’m doing or what I was ever trying to achieve here. I’m damn well lost in my own head again, a riot of emotions and desires muddling what should be so damn simple.
My phone vibrates again as I slip through the side entrance to leave and end up in a dirty back alley, tequila bottle still in my hand. I snatch the phone out of my inside pocket, annoyed with it, the world, and my goddamn dick for suddenly not knowing how to collaborate with the plan.
"Yo, got a light, man?" a guy calls.
I turn to look and see a twenty-something smackhead swerving over to me, no smokes in his hand. There’s a blade there instead. Fucking dick. The mood I'm in he's about to get fucked up beyond recognition if he tries that on. I watch, though, letting him make his play and enjoying the thought of beating this frustration into something. He'll do. Hell, anything would do at the moment, and his goddamn fingers flicking that blade about, and his attempt to look cruel and threatening, only increase my thirst to get rid of this energy that’s building.
"Wallet," he shouts, still flicking the blade.
I put the phone away and pull my cash out, holding the roll of it up for him as I put my tequila down. "Come get it."
The asshole dives at me, his junkie brain thinking he's got something good out of a drunk customer. The cash leaves my hand at the same time as I snatch the blade from his grip, his body smashing into the wall in the process. I don't know what fucking happens then. It's a goddamn blur of hazed minutes, all of them full of power, hate, and brutality. His body is used to fuel something. Frustration maybe. Hurt. I don't fucking know, or care, but the look of him when I finally get my shit together and back the fuck off to get my tequila isn't fucking pretty.
He coughs and splutters, blood coming out of his mouth and two of his limbs at angles they shouldn't be at. I wipe the beads of sweat from my head, spitting his stench out because I've been so close. Fuck it. Junkie assholes deserve this kind of heat. All of them hanging on corners, trying get high over anything else. My erratic thoughts filter back to my dead brother, the same kind of look on his face when he was as high as this cunt. I fling the blade and shake my head back into gear, as I stare at his mutilated frame and sneer. I fucking hate them. All of them. No matter how much profit we make off that side of the business. They're weak. Useless. Addicts.
A goddamned stain on the planet.
Just like my brother.
My hands scrub at my face, and I swallow some more booze, watching the dick in case he dares to try standing. He won't, couldn't, but that doesn't mean I'm not inclined to finish him off after I've drunk some more. Cunt. Stupid fucking cunt. What else has he done to get high? Who else has he hurt? Thoughts crash into my head about Fia and what she’s trying to achieve, how she's trying to rid the streets of this scum. It's not something I've ever considered before I met her. I’ve always been as happy to profit off their crap as Cane, but I guess anything is better than dicks like this walking around. Maybe. I don't know.
I snarl and lean back on the alley wall, bringing my drink to my lips, and then the goddamned phone vibrates in my pocket again. I snatch at it, pissed at whoever is interrupting my night, and glare at the screen. Nine missed calls. All from Sophia Vico. I’m not calling her back. I can’t. Won’t. She’s gone. I put her on a plane and sent her the hell away from me. It was the right thing to do.
The only thing to do.
My back slides down the wall, ass hitting the grimy floor beneath me as I stare at those numbers and letters on the screen and drink some more. Nine missed calls. What the fuck is so important that she’s tried to get hold of me nine times? My lips slow my drinking down, my mind starting to think about any trouble she might be in. I half snort. The only trouble she’s gonna be in is her daddy being a cunt to her. That’s not something I’m messing with. Unless he’s hit her. My frown drops into place, anger rolling through me at the thought and waking me up from the stupor I’m wallowing in.
I’m pressing redial before I’ve given any merit to the goddamn move.
“Carter?” she says, relief in her voice.
“Yeah.”
“You’re okay?”
“Questionable at the moment.” I look around at my surroundings, garbage bins and piss stained walls covering the small side alley, a nearly dead guy still gurgling out his last breaths. This is far from okay. “What’s the problem, Fia?”
“My dad. I… I’m sorry. I tried not to say anything, but he just knew.”
Fuck.
My head knocks against the wall, eyes closing down everything but those words. He just knew. Meaning he knows, and my ass has just become his only fucking target for the next millennium.
I sigh and drink some more. Might as well get fucked up now that this shitstorm is a definite. Stay out all night and drink myself into the oblivion that’s coming anyway. At least I know what that text from Quinn was really about now. “I don’t know what to do, Carter. He’s coming for you, and I don’t know how to help.” No, nor do I. Apart from going to confront the situation head on.
I should have fucked her if getting her off is enough to put me on Vico’s hit list anyway. I smile, amused at the thought and more than interested in that plan forming in my mind. What does it matter anymore? If I’m gonna have my ass handed to me, I’m at least having all her ass on a plate before I do.
“Where are you?” I ask, pushing myself up the wall to get off the floor.
“With Uncle Quinn. I wanted to warn you, but he said you were gone.”
“Did he hurt you?"
“What? My dad. No, he would never…” She trails off, clearly thinking about the fact that he might. My lip curls, annoyance starting to mingle with loathing at the thought. “I’m fine, Carter. I think. I knew I couldn’t just let him come after you, but I’m not sure what’s next.”
“Can you get here?”
&nb
sp; “Where’s here?”
“The only place that makes any goddamn sense. The place where I tasted you for the first time.”
Her small gasp makes me chuckle, and I start walking around in circles, kicking up garbage, and thinking of that hood and her lips, the taste of strawberries. “I want your ass here. With me.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, guess I do.” Stupidly.
“Okay.”
I listen to her breathing on the end of the phone, a smile crawling up my face as I keep wandering without direction. Up the dirty alley. Back down it. My high-end shoes slowly landing on gritty streets and filthy floors. There’s a fucking metaphor for my life in that shit somewhere. I pick up the blade I flung away, wiping my prints from the handle, and then reach for the wad of dollars I threw. “If you come here, though, Fia, it’s only going to make things worse with your father ’cause that line I was trying not to cross? We'll be crossing it. You don’t get a redo on this choice, understand? All in.”
The silence carries on for a minute or two as she processes that thought, and I stare at the guy still spitting up blood. It’s true. I’ll be all in, no fucks given for what her father wants to do to me. I’ll damn well make it count for as long as we have. All night. All the next fucking day, too. She won’t be able to move for a week after I’ve finished with that virgin body.
Not that she knows that yet.
There’s still silence on the line when I’ve finished imagining all the fucked up positions I can get her into. Maybe she’s waiting for some romantic words to help her decide. They’re not coming. I wouldn’t know true romance if it slapped me in the face.
I wait, echoing her silence and giving her room to decide on her own. This isn’t romantic. It’s just an inevitability now, and something she needs to accept. I’m offering nothing but giving in to the lust that’s damn near intolerable between us. I wouldn’t damn well know how to be romantic even if I wanted to.
I kick the guy in the head, pissed that he's in my way.
Jesus.
“I’m on my way.”
Good girl. “Call me when you land. I’ll meet you at the airport.” I hang up and trudge the alley again, still unsure what the fuck I’m doing. Logical thinking should have me calling Quinn and getting my ass back to Chicago. It’s not that I need him, but I do need to tell him. If I front up to her father without at least telling him I’m doing it, all hell’s gonna break loose between Vico and Cane, and that isn’t good for anyone’s business, let alone their well-being. I look at the phone in my hand, ready to get the conversation done so I can get on with the only plan I’ve got—Sofia Vico. It’s a screwed-up plan, but if my life’s gonna end, I’m taking whatever last piece of decency I can get before it does.
* * *
The tannoy announced the plane’s arrival over half an hour ago, and I’ve been pacing this lobby ever since. Waiting. Just about everyone else off the flight has gone past me, some of them jumping into the arms of loved ones, all smiles and beams of happiness. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do when she gets here.
If she gets here.
I check my watch again, wondering if maybe she’s changed her mind. She sent me the flight details and said she’d call when she landed. She hasn’t. I wouldn’t blame her if she’s thought better of it. Getting up in her father’s face about his business is one thing; purposely pissing him off by jumping on a plane to be with me is entirely another.
I hover, my hands shaking slightly in my pockets. It's not a need for food, this time. I'm nervous. Interesting fucking problem to deal with. Can’t remember the last time I was nervous of anything. I look down towards my dick, wondering if it’ll decide to cooperate with the plan this time regardless of nerves. It twitches, apparently happy with the thought of anything to do with Sofia Vico.
Shame she’s not damn well here.
My lips huff out a ragged breath, and I gaze up to the gate again, willing her through the doors. Still, she doesn’t appear, and as the flight crew begin walking down towards me, I nod my head and smile. Fair enough. She’s not coming. Sensible. It’s what a Vico head would do. And it’s what she should do. Staying away from me is right for all concerned. It’s right for Cane. Right for the two families. And right for her. I mean, what the fuck would someone like her need from someone like me anyway? She’s destined for greater things. Good things. Decent things. Great, good and decent are three things I’m not. Haven’t been for a long ass time.
I turn and start heading for the exit, grabbing my phone out to call Quinn before I book my own flight to New York. I didn't do it earlier, too pissed at the thought of his disappointment again, but whatever happens now, Vico will want his answers, as well as my head on a spike. To save the families going to war, I’ll go take whatever he deems appropriate. This was all me. It’s on me, and I won’t have him make anyone’s life but mine hell because of it.
“Carter?” Fuck.
My body freezes, then slowly turns at the sound of her voice, my fucking hands shaking again. She’s standing there like a beacon of light, an angel even, radiant and sweet before the execution that’s coming for me. It’s what the condemned must feel like when that last fucking meal is brought to them. Ravenous. Thankful. Humbled. I stare, nearly fucking drooling as she bites the end of her thumbnail and shrugs her bag closer to her.
“I wasn’t sure. I watched you waiting for me,” she says, taking a small step forward. “I waited back there, not sure if this was right or if it will make things worse. I’m so sorry.”
I make my way back towards her, nodding. I know that feeling. I’ve known it since the first time I saw her. And I certainly know it now she’s offering herself to me.
“This isn’t your fault. Right now, I don’t give a damn about right and wrong.” My hand snatches her waist to me, one sharp tug to get her where I need her. “I just don’t care anymore.” Close. No fucking distance between us. None. Not until I’ve had my fill and she can’t walk. “Last chance to run, Sofia.”
Her entire body trembles in my hold, including the lips I’m looking at. I draw my gaze up to her eyes, looking for consent or objection. I need something from her, some words to make this the right thing to do. “Tell me you want me or go get your sexy ass back on that plane.”
One second. Two. Three.
Fucking seconds feel like hours as she makes her decisions.
“I want everything from you. With you.”
Good girl.
Sixteen
It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever said. And the most honest.
Standing out of sight and waiting to make my move, a hundred plans and scenarios played over in my mind. All of them confirmed that I was totally crazy. Rushing across the country to find Carter just to warn him about my dad? What could I do to stop him? Would he listen? Through the myriad of questions plaguing me, though, there was an overriding pulse—a current running through me—and it beat entirely for Carter. No matter how brief, how limited our time has been so far, he’s made an indelible mark on my heart.
And I only want more of him.
It’s entirely selfish on my part. Carter still has a chance to explain things to my dad, to try to make him see sense and not start the war I know he’ll be in the middle of. But after this? We’re going to have to run, which is why I’ll need all the money I have at my disposal.
Under different circumstances, running away with the man you’re about to give your heart and virginity to is quite a romantic feat. But somehow, I don’t think it will be the Disney movie ending I was subjected to growing up.
We stand there, locked in each other's sights for what seems like an eternity. When I called Carter, I didn’t know what to expect, but having him say he wanted me with him wasn’t high on the list. Of course, it was everything I wanted to hear.
Finally, he holds out his hand. I look down and pause, suddenly panicked at whether he’s asking for my hand or not? I choose to shrug my bag from my shoulder and hand
it over. His slight smirk tells me it was the right thing to do. Then he pulls me against him once again, sending my nerves scattering like leaves in a storm.
“Let’s get out of here.” His words are a promise of what’s to come between us and exactly what I need to hear, but I can’t turn off the ticking sound in the back of my head, like we might be on borrowed time.
When Carter opens the door to his car, I can’t keep the blush from my cheeks at the memories it brings back.
“Easy, now. Next time we’re going to even the score.”
“Score?” I ask, confused.
“You came. I didn’t. That score.”
“Oh.” I busy myself with the seatbelt, suddenly flustered about a whole load of other questions. Carter comes around and jumps in.
“Where are we heading?” I didn’t have any expectations after getting to Carter. Where he’d take us or where we’d travel to didn’t really matter. I just knew I needed to get to him, and we needed to go.
“Back to the hotel.”
“The hotel?” I ask, confused at his plan.
“Yeah. It’s a Cane property. I never stay anywhere else.”
“But, don’t we have to leave?” I swivel around to face Carter, now concerned that he’s not taking this seriously.
“I’m not running.”
The weight of that word settles between us and heats my blood. There’s anticipation from both of us, but I can also feel the line still between us. The one Carter warned of when I came. The one he told me he'd cross.
The journey back to the hotel is quiet. Tense. Just being around Carter makes me nervous, but in a sexy, adrenaline filled way. I want to find out where that night could have gone if he hadn’t locked me out, and if I’ll have the courage I had then to walk up to his door again. Of course, everything has changed since then. My world has crashed around me, and because of our actions and my inability to keep secrets from my father, Carter now has a man more than capable of murder ready to hunt him down.
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