Chapter 16
16
GIDEON
It took seven years for my father to make good on his promise, but he did it. He not only took out the men that murdered my mother, but their entire gang. The territory they controlled within Chicago, though small, became his.
“They’re all dead, son,” he said to me when he walked in the door, full of life, a triumphant smile on his face. “I have avenged your mother.”
I hugged him, my chest filled with relief, not that he’d killed our enemies, but that he’d returned unscathed. He was strong, the strongest man I’d even known. I could only hope that one day I’d be just like him.
He pulled me away, his eyes bright and his excitement palpable. “Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you, Father.”
“And…” He extended his hand, palm up. Digging through my pocket, I found his coin and paid him. “Good, boy. Now,” he stood up and slapped a hand against my shoulder, “let’s celebrate as men should. To our victory.”
D estroying a historical house isn’t something I enjoy, but it was necessary to get the ball rolling. Skye has the information I need, I’m certain of it. Whether she knows it or not, she’s been with Arran long enough to have gleamed something— a room, a door that doesn’t belong, extra security. What I need to do now, is interrogate her.
Feeling my figurative breath on his neck forced Arran to seek shelter at Luca Sinacore’s home in New York. The alliance will do the work for me, asking questions, demanding answers.
Skye will be ferreted out. She will run. And when she does, it will be to me.
“Noah Esposito just arrived,” Scarlet says through the phone. She tosses something into her mouth and crunches loudly. She and Itsuki are posted near Briar House, keeping me appraised of who comes and goes while I pace in my Philadelphia penthouse.
“Must you eat when you’re on a stakeout?”
“Dude, I’ve been here for three hours. I’m starving. Why don’t you come if you can do it better?”
I don’t tell her that I made a promise to stay away from New York. If Sofia so much as suspects I’ve involved her brother at all, she’ll consider it a forfeit game. I’m not quite ready for her to lose.
“Keep watch,” I tell her.
“Gunn came out to talk to some of the guards, but he’s back in the house.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Gunner. He’s not of consequence.”
“Speak for your…” she trails off. “Shit.”
“What?”
“Rowan Kane just showed up.”
I pause, my vision blurring slightly. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“Huge Viking, long blond hair, your eyes… Yup. That’s him.”
“He’s joining them,” I say thoughtfully.
“We knew this was a possibility.”
We knew, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I hoped to spare him having to choose. “You know the rules.”
“Yeah, yeah. If anything goes down, take everyone out, but Rowan. You hear that, Itsuki?”
In the background, I hear his low rumble. “Of course.”
“Not a hair on his head, Scar,” I warn her.
“We’re spectators. Flies on a wall, er, in the car. I’m not planning on getting caught.”
“Make sure of it.” If anyone sees them, all hell will break loose. They’d have no choice but to fight, and Rowan’s presence will make it that much harder for them to escape unscathed.
“What if this doesn’t work?” asks Scarlet. “What if they help her instead.”
“They won’t.” The alliance’s mission is to find me, and they will smell betrayal on Skye instantly.
An hour later, she proves me right. Skye leaves Briar House in an SUV, alone, and at breakneck speeds. Scarlet and Itsuki follow at a distance.
“She’s heading to the warehouse,” Scarlet says.
It’s the place I instructed her to drive to if and when she discovered Clive’s location. It’s a large space I own right outside of Philadelphia, on a street where most of the businesses are manufacturers or sell building supplies.
“I’m on the way,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you at your place later.”
Though the warehouse seems empty, several of my men are housed within. It’s highly secured, and the moment she arrives I’m alerted.
I pull into the lot and drive around the building where the cargo doors are located. As I approach, two black SUVs turn the corner and join me. One pulls up behind her, the other on the passenger side. I park to her left, effectively blocking her in.
A few of my men dressed in suits step out of their vehicles and stand at intervals around her car. They’re armed and ready should she be hiding any surprises.
Only once they’re in place, do I emerge from my Bentley. I roll up the sleeves of my powder-blue button-up shirt and plaster a grin on my face.
“Imogen,” I greet, using her first name simply to annoy her. “So nice to see you. It took you long enough.”
“It’s Skye,” she reminds me.
“Ah, yes, Skye. I apologize.” I extend my hand and help her out of her high seat and tug her away. One of my men comes to pat her down, checking for any weapons she might have slipped under her clothes. Another, goes through her vehicle and searches for any other passengers.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” she says. “Figured you’d meet me at that dingy hole you’re keeping my sister in.”
I laugh. “It’s not that dingy. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t try to trick me. You’re too clever for that. That, and I’m sure that by now, you’ve figured out who murdered your father?”
The guard comes around the car. “It’s clean, boss.”
“Good. Now shall we go? I’m dying to know everything you’ve learned about Clive’s whereabouts.”
We arrive at Scarlet’s place a short while later, a highly secured apartment in Philly. I find that Maisel hasn’t just been fed and kept safe, but has been playing “sister” with Scar, if their matching pajamas are any indication.
Skye notices this too, and seems alarmed by the fact that her sister has formed some sort of an attachment to an assassin.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. What matters is that I end this decade long search.
Without further ado, I motion for them all to join me in the living room. I look at Skye. “It’s time for you to tell me where the fuck Clive Maxton is.”
She straightens her back, ready to negotiate. Ah, so she does know. “First, swear that you will let us go. That once we step out those doors, you will not seek us out. And our debts will be paid to anyone searching for us. It’s what you promised.”
“And I never go back on my word. I swear it.”
She’s torn by this, I can tell. But she has no choice. “He’s beneath Maxton House. Underground.”
I narrow my gaze. “Impossible. There is no underground.”
“There is,” she says with a certainty that can’t be denied. “Apparently, Arran is a lot smarter than you think.”
“You’ll stay here until I can confirm it’s true. If you’re lying?—”
“I’m not.”
Leaning close, I say, “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you. But not before I torture and kill your little sister while you watch. That will be fun, won’t it, Scar?”
Maisel gasps and looks pleadingly at Scarlet. “You’d do that?”
Scarlet doesn’t reply to either of them. Instead, she points a harsh finger at Skye. “You better not be lying.”
“I’m not.”
My eyes snap to Scarlet. There’s something in her tone I don’t like. Something beyond her desire for her to get me what I want. She feels my attention on her, and glances my way, but quickly evades my scrutiny.
What are you up to ?
To Skye, I say. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a few.”
I lock myself in Scarlet’s office and call Vicky. “There’s a whole fucking underground at Maxton House.”
“What?” She types away fast. “If that’s true, it’s not on the blueprints.”
“Check again. I need that damned layout.”
“Fuck. Hold on. Let me…” I’m not sure what she’s doing. Minutes pass and all I hear is the clicking of fingernails against keys. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she says, “It’s there. It’s all there. But it’s tied to a building that was demolished in 1910. None of it shows on the new plans.”
“Send me what you have.”
“Yes, sir.”
I go back to the living room and whatever conversation they were having immediately ceases. I sit on the coffee table in front of Skye. “Well, it appears you’re right. There is an underground level.”
“I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn. Let Maisie and me go.”
It amuses me that she’d think it would be that easy. “You’re too smart to believe I’d do that. First, I want you to tell me exactly how you got into that underground. Every detail you recall.”
“If you already have confirmation the place is there, you also know how to get in.”
“On paper, yes. I want a first-hand account.”
“I tell you where he is. You let us go. That was the deal,” she reminds me.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to make deals with the Devil?” I give her my most devilish grin. “Make yourself comfortable. You’re not going anywhere until I’ve put a bullet in Clive’s head. And if you try anything, I’ll put one in yours too.”
Me: You’ve guaranteed Skye’s failure. All she wanted was to protect her little sister. Out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll delay their death sentence. Bring me your father by seven, and I’ll spare them.
I send Arran the text, along with the address he’s to meet me at. He’s to bring his father to the warehouse, and no one else. Just as they did with Skye, my men cage them in when they arrive. They’re removed from the Tahoe they rode in and searched for weapons. Then, they are shoved into one of my SUVs and driven to me.
My stomach clenches as they arrive at Clive’s old home. It’s the place where his daughter was murdered, not by Thomas Cameron as Arran has believed for years, but by one of Clive’s own hired men. It was a mistake. The wrong person was taken out. But her blood is still on his hands.
It seems fitting that I should end his life here. Sort of a two-for-one kind of thing. I’ll avenge my father and his daughter with a single bullet.
There are two coins in my right hand waiting for Clive. I clutch them as I watch Clive and Arran exit the SUV through the filmy panels on the windows. The guards escort them through the house and into the front parlor.
I enter, Scarlet right behind me. My gaze is affixed on Clive. He’s on his knees next to his son. Both are facing the kitchen, the place where Catherine’s body was found. Clive glances in that direction once before lowering his head to stare at the floor.
“Good afternoon.” I greet them.
Behind Scarlet and I, two of my guys escort Skye and Maisel, each holding one of them while another follows with their bags.
Arran’s fury ripples off him in waves. He tries to stand, but Scarlet quickly shoves him back down.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” I warn.
“You have us,” he hisses. “Let them go.”
“But that wasn’t the deal.”
“Then what is it?”
Yes, I’m being dramatic, but I have a flair for it and I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long for it to be anticlimactic. “I’d like her to tell you,” I say and point at Skye.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Skye. I’m not asking again. Tell him our deal. What is your ticket to freedom?”
Trembling, she utters, “A bullet in Clive’s head.”
“And who must put it there?” I encourage her to continue, wanting to both slow down the moment and rush into it.
Skye glances toward her sister, who is quietly sobbing. Her breathing accelerates to the point I believe she’ll hyperventilate. “Me.”
I take pleasure in Arran’s shock and Clive’s sad resignation. It’s not that I want to traumatize Skye, but making her kill Clive while Arran watches… He will forever remember me and know that I’m capable of anything if he doesn’t heed my warning and shut down Maxton House and Asta.
I stand between Skye and Arran, forcing their attention back to me. “Your lovely Skye puts a bullet between Clive’s eyes, then they can grab those bags with their belongings and leave.”
“Why have her do it?” Arran asks in a surprisingly even tone. “I won’t blame her for it.”
I tilt my head as I study him. “Won’t you? Not even a little bit?”
“Just get it done with.” Clive, who has been quiet until now, finally speaks and his voice threatens to soften something inside me. It’s an old voice. Frail. Human.
Using every inch of hatred that I’ve nurtured over the years, I mimic him. “Just get it over with. Did my father use those same words when you and the others executed him? Oh, that’s right.” I pause and lift a finger. “My father wasn’t even given the chance to beg. He was gagged and riddled with bullets before he was tossed into the river.”
“Stephen deserved to die for the things he did,” Clive says with sudden verve. “As do I. So. Just. Do. It.”
“Not even a hint of remorse.” I tut. “You killed him because he figured out a way to gain power, and you envied him.”
“Is that what you believe?” Clive asks. “No wonder you’re so angry.”
Cocking my head, I say, “If that’s a lie, enlighten me.”
Clive stares me dead in the eye. “It isn’t a lie. But it isn’t exactly true either, is it?”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t speak in riddles,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Clive replies, turning from me.
I scrutinize him, trying to decipher if he knows something I don’t, or if he’s just a senile old man. Perhaps it’s both.
Either way, he’s aware enough that he remembers what he did and why.
“Do it,” I say to Skye.
Skye is released and pushed toward us. Scarlet grabs her hand and places a gun in it.
“Don’t do it, Skye,” Maisel cries. “Please. Please don’t make her do it.”
Scarlet gives her a quick glance, but turns away from her. She grabs Skye by the shoulders and pushes her until she’s positioned in front of Clive. Wrapping her fingers around her wrist, she forces her to lift the gun.
A sob escapes Skye, but she swallows it down. “Don’t make me do this.”
“There is one bullet. You either put it in Clive’s head, or Scarlet will put it in your sister’s,” I grit through my teeth. “You choose.”
Scarlet glares at me, her green eyes questioning. Defiant. “Don’t make me kill Maisie.”
Once again, she’s taken me by surprise. I’d never make her kill the young girl, she knows this. It’s a mere scare tactic. But to question me in front of the enemy in such a way has me questioning her .
I stare her down, searching for any hint of betrayal. Of disloyalty. There’s none of that, but there is something …
“Are you watching, Arran?” I ask, looking away from Scarlet. “Watch.”
“Please don’t!” Maisel screams.
“Look away, Maze,” Skye tells her.
My fingers twitch with the desire to tug that trigger myself. “Do it!”
“No. No!” Maisel continues.
Skye shifts her attention to Clive.
“I forgive you, child,” he says to her, as if the absolution of a monster means anything.
The gun begins to shake violently in Skye’s grasp as she aims it at his head. Her eyes fill with tears and her breath hitches in her throat.
“Fuck this shit.” Out of nowhere, Scarlet snatches the weapon from Skye and shoots Clive herself.
His blood spatters the side of Arran’s face. He opens his mouth in horror as he watches his father slump to the floor.
“Father!”
Maisel screams and manages to free herself from the man holding her and runs through the front door.
“Maisie!” Skye tries to follow, but she’s stopped when one of my guards snags her by the shoulder.
“You didn’t have to do this. Not like this!” Scarlet hisses, her eyes hard and scolding.
But I barely register any of it. Not the escaping teen or my angry sidekick. All I see is Clive’s body, the blood pooled beneath him.
And I feel… nothing. There’s no relief. No joy.
There never is.
“Even dead, they don’t bring me peace,” I whisper to myself, but Skye hears me.
“That’s because revenge rarely does,” she sneers. “You’re killing people for nothing.”
I look at her numbly. “What would you know of revenge? Have you ever tasted it?”
“No. But I don’t need to to know it’s not as sweet as they say. All it does is leave you hungry for more. You’re living proof.”
For a moment, I’m left speechless. She’s struck a nerve I wasn’t aware I had. A fear that it doesn’t matter how many of them I kill, I’ll never find satisfaction. That I’ll be unable to fill the void my father left.
It enrages me, beyond what it should, that she would make the suggestion when I’m already so unsure. Will I be forever hungry for revenge, even after all I’ve done? Can I live with it?
I force a smile onto my face. “Ah, but it is. In fact, I’m going to give you a little taste right now.”
From my back pocket, I tug out my Glock. I pull back the hammer and place my fingertip on the trigger. Before I can manage to aim it toward Arran’s head, Skye tears herself away from the man holding her and is on me, beating at me with all the rage of a wild animal protecting her own.
Somehow, I manage to throw her off. I aim the gun at Arran, but she stands in front of him. “You’re done here, Gideon. You got what you came for. You fucked with all of us. Now go.”
“Get out of the fucking way,” I yell. If killing Clive wasn’t enough, maybe Arran will be.
“Skye, what are you doing? Move!” Arran attempts to push her with his shoulder.
“Move, Skye,” I demand as well.
“No!”
I stare at her intensely, threatening her with my firearm. But she doesn’t budge. She’s willing to give her life for him without fear.
And I can’t bring myself to hurt her.
Scarlet returns to my side. “Luca and his men are pulling down the street. Maisie’s headed toward them. We need to go.”
“How the fuck do they know where we are?” I look at Arran, and he shrugs, but there’s a smugness in his gaze that tells me he had something to do with it. I shove the gun back into my holster. “Keep your head down and you’ll live. Take Clive’s place, and you’ll end up buried beside him.”
I toss two pennies into Clive’s blood. With that, we retreat out the back.
When Father took his revenge on the men that killed my mother, he came back strong and full of life. There was a lightness to his step as I followed him through the house and we made plans for the future. Everything would be different. Life would be better. My mother could move on.
Yet, when I return to Kingsbrook, I’m empty and numb in spite of my success. Clive Maxton is dead. I’m one step closer. Yet, like with all of the ones before him, I feel none of the pleasure that should have been my reward.
The fire in the great room is roaring, casting a warm glow all the way into the foyer. It doesn’t touch the chill that’s filled me since the events that took place a few hours ago.
Something like shame and regret begin to form in the pit of my stomach as I recall the way Skye shook and her sister cried. I tell myself that there was a lesson for everyone involved, though now that the anger is gone, it’s becoming harder to remember just what that was. I tell myself Clive deserved it. That it doesn’t matter that like me, he seemed to think his actions were justified.
I tell myself those things even as I begin to question everything. Shouldn’t it be different by now? Feel different?
I remain there for a long while, staring into the hearth, wondering where the relief is. If it will ever come. The answer eludes me and the temperature inside me plummets.
I’m shaking, my entire being caught in a seismic episode caused by sudden doubt.
Unable to bear the chill and hollowness any longer, I go to Sofia’s room. She’s curled up on the window bench, the comforter drawn up over her shoulders. I lift her into my arms and she stirs.
“You’re back,” she whispers sleepily. “What’s wrong? Luca?”
“He’s fine. I promised.”
“Thank you.” She sinks against me and lets out the breath she must have been holding for a while.
“I want you in my bed,” I say huskily, my throat tight and my soul hollow.
She winds her arms around my neck and yawns. I take her to my suite, because I need her there. Sleep overtakes her the moment I draw the covers over us and bring her close.
Next to her, I finally find that reprieve from the bitter cold that revenge couldn’t touch.