Chapter 19 #2
"What if I was?" he says, reaching up to tuck a loose hair behind my ear, then stroke his thumb longingly up and down my jawline.
I melt into him and then instantly hate myself for doing so.
If this is his form of an apology, then now is the time that I need to stand my ground and tell him it's not good enough. I can't forgive him this easily.
"Then that's rude," I say, but it comes out breathy. Fuck.
"I agree," he says, looking from my eyes to my lips. Instead of leaning into him like I normally would, my lip curls. He's giving me fucking whiplash. I turn my head so that his hand falls away from my neck.
With a sigh, he pulls away. As much as it hurts, I know I've done the right thing by respecting myself this time. Sitting on the edge of my bed, he runs a hand through his hair. His eyes catch on the book by my windowsill and he turns a curious gaze back on me.
Oh fuck. Please don't ask me about the book.
"Ahem," a voice says, purposefully loud.
I whip my head towards the doorway, finding Anton standing there with his hands behind his back, looking murderous. "Thought I'd find you in here."
Nic scrambles off the bed, tripping over his own feet in his attempt to straighten up and smooth over his clothes. "Anton." He says it with the same admonishment he'd say the word 'fuck'.
"Come on," Anton says, his lips pinching. "Crew just finished the cleanup. Freddie's refusing stitches. Need you to help me hold him down."
Anton walks away and Nic heads towards the door, stopping at the last second and poking his head back around the corner to me. "Coming?"
I give him a raised brow and a sniff. But yes, I am coming. So I dress and follow him out the door.
"I swear to fuck if I feel one more sting!"
Freddie sits laid back in a green armchair in the library, creating crescent circles in the upholstery from where he grips the arm. Victor chuckles, not looking like he's taking any extra care as he wipes a gauze over Freddie's exposed wound.
When Victor comes back with the needle to patch him up, Freddie leaps forward like he's going to claw his face off.
"You need stitches Freddie, shut the fuck up," Nic grumbles, holding Freddie's arms and forcing him back in the seat so he can't punch Victor as he's treated.
"It's fine, leave it!" Freddie says, teeth gritting as the needle pierces his skin again.
"It's a gunshot wound, Fallon," Victor laughs. "Sit still."
I fiddle with the necklace at my collarbone, watching from where I sit at the opposite end of the library.
It seems the worst that happened last night was the gunshot wound through Freddie's thigh.
Which is superficial and treatable, but the idea that the wound was inflicted in pursuit or defense of me makes my skin sticky.
My mood has been somber. It's not my first gun fight. But now I know for sure they were after me. Have they been this whole time? The knowledge sits like rocks in my gut.
Victor moves his skilled hands against Freddie's skin, not hiding the fact that he wants to laugh.
As I watch my fiancé's hands sew together my friend's leg, my mind drifts.
To other hands. Tattooed ones. Tattooed fingers pressing on my chest over my heart.
Tattooed fingers being licked and then used to turn pages in a book.
My blood heats and I forcefully shake it off in a shiver.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Your brother up yet?" Anton drawls from where he nervously shuffles a deck of cards.
"Sleeping in. Had a big night," Victor says, frowning as he concentrates on Freddie's wound.
I'm told Alexei and Isla took down more men than anyone else last night.
They clearly don't call him the psychotic Rushkoff for nothing.
As if speaking of them has summoned her, Isla comes sauntering into the room, a gun still loaded on her hip.
Her blonde hair swishes behind her, left unbound, and her smile is mega-watt bright.
"I bet you're glad you invited me in when you did, Anton," Isla smirks.
Anton shakes his head, glaring at Victor. "I thought you said she didn't know how to use a gun?"
Victor glares daggers at Isla. He really fucking hates her. That much is clear. From what I learned in the moments before the attack, I can only assume that there was once a battle for her heart, and that Alexei won.
Does she ever look at the ring on my finger and wish it were hers?
"Can't use a gun? I'm offended, Vic. Especially since I gave you your first one."
Victor grumbles but he says nothing in response, his sole focus on stitching up Freddie's leg. He's high roading her. I think.
Alexei struts in shortly later, eyeing me where I'm laid out on one of the lounges, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
"What a shitshow," Anton says. "I've never seen so many fucking bodies."
"I've seen more." Freddie and Alexei say those words at the exact same time, causing Freddie to smile and Alexei to frown.
Isla sniffs at the exchange and then steps up to Alexei, taking the cigarette right out of his mouth and inhaling before she places it back between his lips.
I feel my breath hitch, the feeling strange and foreign.
I look at Victor, finding him watching them with poorly restrained anger and probably jealously.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into here?
"You're a shit doctor," Freddie curses as Victor finishes patching him up.
"You're very welcome," Victor says. He smiles and snaps his blue rubber glove off.
"Another attack, another mystery as to how they got so close in the first place," Anton says, throwing away his cards and taking a long sip of whatever amber liquid is in his glass. I've never seen him drink so much before.
"You better not be accusing us again," Alexei drawls. It sounds calm, but we all know he's ready for a fight if one breaks out. He always is.
Anton sighs and then concedes as he slumps into the lounger across from mine. "I'm not."
"But you don't know who it is, do you?" Victor says.
Anton clenches his jaw. Nic and Freddie watch him closely, I assume gathering the status quo. Whatever Anton says next is going to set the tone for whether we trust the Rushkoffs with our family business.
"No," he says quietly.
"Attacks happen often?"
Anton eyes me before he answers Victor's next question.
"A lot. But they never get through the gate."
Victor nods and the room goes silent. The idea that an unknown party can get into the mansion to challenge not just us, but the Rushkoffs in here with us, doesn't bode well for anyone's status in the city right now.
It feels heavy with tension. A fog building in the room as each person draws their own conclusions from what Anton has said.
It's Isla that breaks the tension.
"Right. Well, problem for another day," she says. "We fought them off this time. Go team. Now, who am I besting in cards today?"
Nic flops down next to me on the lounger, brushing hair back from my face.
"You look like you could use a break."
I narrow my eyes on him and fold my arms.
He sighs. "You're sulking."
I lift my chin in indignation. "Rightfully so, I'd say."
He stands and holds out his hand to me. "Come on, let me apologize."
I refuse to take his hand, instead raising my chin another few inches to make my defiance clear. Nic just smirks and shakes his head. "Come on, give me a chance. I'll answer all your questions away from prying eyes."