Chapter Five
Mason
“We’re not there yet.”
Jack Payne glances at me from the corner of the room. He sips from the glass in his hand, his face giving nothing away. “You’ve risked everything we’ve worked for, and now, you refuse to do what needs to be done where your siblings are involved.”
I school my features into neutrality. “Oliver and Olivia are better off where they are.”
Being far away has its advantages.
I always have eyes and ears on them, but there’s a difference between keeping an eye on things from a distance and bringing them back into the circle.
Oliver, especially, isn’t cut out for this kind of life, and I’ll be damned if I go back on my promise to my mother.
“I’m doubling security on our warehouses, and I’ll call in a few favors to make sure they’re both safe. I’ve got this under control,” I say.
“Like you had the security issue under control?” my father shoots back.
I curl my hands into fists and swallow back the retort.
I should’ve anticipated the ramifications of going after London and exposing what she means to me, but I didn’t care at the time.
Now, it’s coming back to bite me in the ass.
It’s not like you didn’t try to fight your feelings for her, but you saw how pointless it was. You can’t turn your back on her now.
Everyone has targets on their back because of me, and although I can’t escape the guilt and disgust that swirl through me at the realization, I know there’s no room for anything but cold precision.
Except everything is snowballing out of control far faster than I anticipated.
The Fitzpatricks and Everetts might not have planned our self-destruction, but they put the dominoes in place, and now, they just have to sit back and watch everything crumble.
For the umpteenth time, I wonder how long they’ve been planning it all.
If it wasn’t for the deal I made with London to work at my club to pay off her dad’s debts, and spare his diner, I’m sure they would’ve found another way to screw us over, and I’m waiting to have enough evidence to bury them.
“… with the Thayers,” Jack finishes. “You’ll need to be present, of course.”
I straighten my back. “I thought the Thayers were one of the lesser families we have an alliance with.”
Jack steps away from the window. “They are, but we can’t afford to be picky about allies now. Thatcher Thayer and I have already been in touch, and you’ll be present at the next meeting.”
I nod.
“There’s talk of strengthening our alliance, and I get the feeling the old man is talking about forming something a lot more secure.”
“We can offer them shares in our more prominent businesses.”
Jack crosses over to me. His eyes drift to the scar above my eye. “You’ve been spending too much time at the club, boy. Not all deals are business-related.”
I stare at him. “You’re talking about marriage.”
His dark eyes watch me over the rim of the glass, and he purses his lips. “It’s good to see you haven’t forgotten everything I’ve taught you. Yes, the Thayers have wanted to ally themselves with one of the bigger families, and right now, our interests are aligned.”
“I will not marry a Thayer.”
Jack cocks his head. “No? Perhaps I’ll offer up Oliver’s hand instead.”
“He has nothing to do with this,” I reply a little too quickly.
“No, but for the good of the family, maybe your brother will do what needs to be done.”
Someone coughs in the background, and I glance over at Mathew, who has been standing so still that I almost forgot he was there.
“What about Mathew?”
My twin shoots me a withering look.
“I have other plans for him,” Jack replies. “You, on the other hand, have a mess to clean up, and I won’t always be around to give you solutions.”
“I will not marry a Thayer,” I repeat.
Even though I know it’s the smart move.
Anyone who isn’t London holds no interest for me, and if it means having to find other ways to secure an alliance, I’ll figure something out.
“Marry the Thayer and keep your plaything on the side.” Jack’s voice is sharp and cold. “You know it’s the best way to clean up your mess.”
“I will not marry someone I can’t be faithful to. Even I have standards, and I’m pretty sure screwing with a Thayer after marriage won’t help matters.”
Jack sets his glass on a table. “Mathew, do you want to remind your brother of what’s at stake?”
Mathew rolls up his sleeves. “With pleasure.”
“This is between me and him,” I say without looking at Mathew. “Unless you want to reset your shoulder again, back the fuck off.”
Mathew advances on me, the gleam in his eyes growing more pronounced in the dim light of the room. “Unlike you, I know how to take orders.”
I ignore him and look to my father, who is behind my desk, pouring himself another drink. “This is fucking ridiculous. Stop him before he hurts himself.”
Jack rummages through the mini fridge behind him and adds a few ice cubes to the glass.
Slowly, he brings the glass to his lips and looks at me.
“For years, you had me convinced that you were the right choice. Meanwhile, your brother has been by my side every step of the way, and he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. ”
“While he’s been by your side, I’ve been the one expanding the empire and making us more money than any of us know what to do with.”
Mathew lunges at me. I easily sidestep him, and he skids to a halt. Then he spins and levels me with a look of hatred. I move away again, but this time, Mathew throws out a curled fist, missing me by a few inches.
I have him pinned against the wall before he finishes growling. “You’re never going to be like me, Mathew, so you might as well give up.”
Mathew and I both know our father has been pitting us against each other since we were old enough to hold guns, solely for his amusement. Long ago, I tried to convince myself it was to toughen us up, but I’ve long since accepted the fact that our father is just a piece of work.
Why am I letting either of them get under my skin?
I haven’t spent the past few years building my tolerance to their bullshit just to falter now.
I release Mathew and take a few steps back. “I am not doing this.”
Mathew spits at the ground at my feet and bares his teeth at me. “She’s made you weak. The old you would’ve done more than pin me to the wall, and you know it.”
I flash my brother a warning look. “That can still be arranged.”
He takes another swipe at me and misses, and I punch him in the side. Mathew’s eyes narrow into slits. When he launches himself at me again, I pin him to the floor.
Carlisle bursts into the room as Mathew bucks and thrashes to throw me off. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s something you need to know.”
Jack heaves a sigh and sets his glass down. “Doesn’t anyone in this place know anything about manners? I can see my son isn’t the only one who’s going to be taught a lesson.”
I look at Carlisle. “This had better be good.”
“Katia and London are missing.”
I’m on my feet in front of Carlisle before I know what I’m doing. “What do you mean they’re missing?”
Carlisle clears his throat. “It seems they snuck off the property. We’re not sure where yet, but we have reason to believe it was to see London’s father—”
I let out a litany of curse words.
“—unfortunately, they were run off a bridge on the way back,” Carlisle finishes.
The blood roars in my ears as fear and disbelief settle in my chest. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“The car crashed into the water.”
I shove Carlisle against the wall, my vision turning red. “How the hell did they make it off the estate?”
I want to pummel whoever’s responsible for this mess, but this has Katia written all over it.
My assassin is the only person capable of coming and going as she pleases.
Maybe my father was right, and I’ve given her too much leeway.
In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Katia waver, and I admire London for pulling off the impossible. I wrench the door open and stride out, ignoring my father and brother calling out to me.
There’s a loud cacophony of voices and a blur of faces and colors as I stride out the front door, my only thought of London and her safety.
A moment later, a black car pulls up outside the main door, and I jump into the back.
I’m barking out orders, but nothing I say makes any sense.
Carlisle sits in the passenger seat, and I hear something about a search party, but I’m not listening.
All I can picture is London’s face frozen in terror as water fills the space around her.
I’m going to wring Katia’s neck.
How in the hell did she let this happen?
With a growl, I press the button for the partition between us, silencing the rest of Carlisle’s sentence.
I clench and unclench my hands as a headache builds and pounds in the back of my skull.
When I squeeze my eyes shut again, it’s not London’s face I see in my mind.
Instead, I see my mother’s pale face lying on a king-sized bed.
I imagine a window open in the master bedroom, and a warm breeze wafting in while tiny particles of light dance on hardwood floors.
Then I hear my mother’s voice, and I feel her small and cool fingers close around mine, her bright eyes begging me to save Oliver.
I swallow, and I can still see the desperation and fear written in her eyes.
I blink again, and my mother’s face turns to London’s, and even though her mouth is moving, no words are being formed.
With a little more force than necessary, I pour myself a generous amount of whiskey and take a long sip. I glance out the window and take another sip, hoping it’ll chase away my guilt and confusion.
I have to keep my promise to my mother, but I have no idea how to do that without endangering London.
How am I supposed to navigate this mess?