60. Keep Painting
Keep Painting
CARTER
“I can promise you, no one from the organization will be ignorant enough to disregard the agreements that have been made.” Dante slid an envelope with several copies of the USB file across the desk with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Then again, people always surprise me.” He shrugged.
“You have my contact card should you need my services for any future disposals .”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I was anything but thrilled to be so intimately connected with the mob.
“Really, I should thank you for the intel.” Dante looked all too pleased as he drummed tattooed fingers across his desk. “I must say, I had high hopes, but the contents of that drive have far exceeded my expectations.”
I scoffed, “While I’m grateful for your assistance in putting all this to rest… I still can’t figure out how you knew exactly where to find us.” I watched him over the rim of my glass as I polished off my whiskey. He was not the kind of man you let out of your sights. Not for a minute.
“Right place, right time.” He shrugged. “You know, I would certainly pay handsomely if you were to stumble across any other incriminating files. I imagine a man like yourself must have an orchard of blackmail, just ripe for the picking.” He cocked his head.
“Or perhaps you’d be more inclined to invest in the expansion of my business and maximize your profits.
” He said brazenly, offering to go into business together.
“I’m not interested in continuing the work my father started.” I said, hoping there weren’t any other dangerous skeletons hidden in my father’s closet. “I have more important priorities.”
“Ah yes, your little spitfire with the strong arm.” Dante chuckled. “If it doesn’t work out between the two of you, perhaps?—”
My smile was flat as I leaned back, arm over the back of the couch. “You may have an army of men downstairs,” I mused, while Dante’s eyes twinkled, delighted I’d taken his bait. “But if you so much as blink in my wife’s direction, I’ll break your fucking neck.”
“Duly noted.” He chuckled with casual amusement as he rocked back in his chair. “But unfortunately for me, I doubt when I finally go, I’ll be lucky enough to have such a quick death.”
“I don’t envy your outlook on life at all.” I said, “Perhaps if you find someone of your own ,” the words were biting. “Maybe that outlook would change. Love has a funny way of coloring your perspective on everything.” I admitted.
“Love.” Dante muttered, and adjusted the rings on his fingers, drawing my attention to the mottled scars all over his hands, the letters inked over his knuckles— Fate, and Lore. “Love is good for one thing. Making you weak.”
“Is that why you murdered your fiancé?” I watched him closely.
Something curious flashed across Dante’s expression but was gone an instant later, leaving only lethal darkness. “That is what they say.”
“Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that what they say isn’t even remotely true?”
“Careful.” He warned, “We wouldn’t want you making me out to be one of the good guys. ”
“I think you’ve done that all by yourself.
” Whether I liked it or not, I was now indebted to him, and he to me.
He could have killed us that day, taken the blackmail and been on his merry way, but he didn’t.
And in a curious unfolding of events, not only was The Society no longer my problem, now, a handful of very important politicians were about to bow to the whims of a very dangerous man.
But Sara was safe, our future was safe, and the cascade of events that were about to unravel were no longer my problem.
“In another life, I think I might have actually liked you, Dante.”
He nodded. “Perhaps you and I are cut from the same cloth.” I couldn’t help but wonder if he was partially right.
Each of us born into our own worlds, doomed to uphold the expectations that were placed upon us the moment we were born.
“But then again, I’m on this side of the table, and you’re on that side,” he mused.
“And yet, we both have blood on our hands.” I stood to leave.
“Ah, but you’re an optimist.” He murmured, looking like he felt sorry for himself. “I, on the other hand…”
I barked a laugh. “I’m curious why a man with as much power as you is playing a game he doesn’t seem to enjoy very much.”
“For the same reason you are.” He flicked a knife up into the air, catching it before repeating the motion. “People see what they want to see, and we give them what they want.” His hands slid behind his head, and the blade sunk into the wood of his desk, punctuating the end of our conversation.
“Thanks for everything.” I headed to the door. “And please don’t mistake my pleasantries for friendship.” I warned, “I meant what I said. I don’t care who the hell you are. If you so much as breathe in her direction, I’ll give you exactly what you expect—a nice, slow death.”
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” He purred as I let myself out.
“I wish I could say the same. ”
The sound of his laugh faded as I headed out of Dante’s office and into The Inferno.
The stairs in the nightclub were practically pulsating as I jogged down them towards the dance floor and the exit beyond.
But a familiar face coming up the stairs caught my attention. “Liam?” He looked terribly exhausted.
“Kensington.” He was out of breath, as if he’d run here. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wrapping up with Dante. I think we’ve got the agreement all ironed out.” I pulled out the envelope and handed him a USB. “We should all have one in case anyone double-crosses us.”
“Good thinking.” He nodded, wiping his mouth, eyes a little wild. “It’s helpful—having friends in high places.”
“Or low places.” I murmured, noticing his shirt was incredibly rumpled. “What are you still doing lurking around here anyway?” I tried to lighten my tone even as worry filled my chest. “Didn’t you finish the menus for the club months ago?”
“Oh, yeah.” He shifted his suit jacket as if he were hiding something. “I’m just doing some consulting. The Leones have a lot of connections.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Networking, you know?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, a pit settling into my stomach, knowing Liam already had lots of connections. “I know the breakup is still fresh, but if you ever need to talk… about anything.” I fished.
“Yeah, I don’t know, it’s not a big deal.
” He gripped the back of his neck, his expression in contrast with his words.
“I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” He checked his watch.
“Hey Cart, I’m sorry, man, but I’m running a bit late.
” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Catch you later? When I can beat your ass for getting in the sack with my sister?” He added with a grin.
“Don’t think I’m letting that one go this easy. ”
“You talk to her?” I asked, knowing Sara wanted to be the one to talk through everything with her brother, to explain our relationship .
“Yeah.” He paused, already heading up the steps. “You already know what I’m going to say.”
“If I hurt her—” I started.
“I’ll kill ya,” Liam finished for me, his head tilted with a smug grin.
I chuckled. “Beer this weekend? I miss you.”
“I’d like that.” He agreed, and relief flooded me, realizing he wasn’t trying to push me out.
“Take care of yourself.” I called as he excused himself and hurried up the steps. “And take a nap, you look like hell.”
“You too, Kensington.” He called over his shoulder with a laugh, but I couldn’t help feeling like something was terribly wrong.
I started down the stairs again when my gaze snagged on the step he’d just been standing on. A faint red smudge where his shoe had just been.
Blood.
When I got home, I let all the housekeeping staff leave early so I could fully indulge in my favorite sweet treat, because the scent of brownie batter was in the air, and the only thing more tempting than the smell was how cute my wife was.
I settled in against the doorframe of the kitchen, our kitchen , and dragged a hand over my mouth with a grin.
The soundtrack of some musical I didn’t know was blasting through the speakers, and Sara belted the lyrics into a batter-covered spatula, completely oblivious to my presence.
Her dark hair was thrown up into a messy ball on the top of her head, little wisps curling around the nape of her neck, highlighting the soft spot I intended to give my full attention to later.
She looked sexy as hell, practically swimming in one of my t-shirts, perfectly undone, soft lean legs flexing as she spun around, doing a piss-poor impression of her brother in the kitchen—there was brownie batter splattered in places I couldn’t possibly explain.
My cock thickened as I watched—the song crescendoed, and she dramatically serenaded the little orange stray I’d kept after my attack, who was currently sitting on the countertop, enjoying the show just as much as I was.
Something about the vulnerability of it, the fact that nobody else got to see her like this—except for me, and Ranger . Playful, uninhibited, joyful.
And the best part? She was all mine. My wife. Forever and always.
Sara startled, realizing I was watching her, and her face quickly morphed into a devastatingly beautiful smile as she leaned into her shoulder flirtatiously. “Hi husband.”
“Hi wife.” She was like gravity, drawing me in as I slid my arms around her, loving the way she immediately relaxed into me even as she kept stirring the batter.
“Want a taste?” She asked, dragging a finger across the batter-covered spatula before lifting it to me.