Chapter Four #2
“How does it feel to know that I’ll always be in the shadows, waiting to swoop in when you fail?”
“I will not fail,” I reply, fury coating every word. “And you will not swoop in.”
I’ve taken painstaking precautions to make sure of it.
Even if I fall, Mathew won’t get within five feet of London.
Mathew throws his head back and laughs. “You’re too blinded to see the truth. That’s where you and I are different. London and Katia will soon learn their place in all this.”
I see red when I throw myself at Mathew and slam him against the desk.
He bucks and tries to get me in a headlock, but I move too fast for him to get the upper hand. Mathew groans again when I punch him in the jaw. He kicks his leg out, and I lose my footing. I catch myself before I can fall, but I’m not quick enough to intercept the jab he throws at my side.
Right where I got stabbed in an attempt on my life.
I feel the stitches rip open, and pain blooms behind my eyelids and spreads across my body.
My eyes widen when I see a flash of silver. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I jump out of reach, and Mathew slices my shirt open. I let out a guttural roar and throw my leg out, kicking the knife out of Mathew’s hand. It falls to the floor with a clatter, and we launch ourselves at it.
Panting, I drag Mathew back by his legs, narrowly avoiding another kick.
I turn with the knife held tightly in my hand as another slice of pain shoots up my side. I ignore the metallic smell of blood and the steady drip on the floor beneath me and advance on my twin.
Mathew shoves his hair from his eyes. He shifts, so his back is pressed against the bookcase, and his expression turns blank.
I press the knife against his neck and bare my teeth. “You’re a disgrace to the Payne name. There’s no honor in bringing a knife to a fistfight.”
“Honor will only get you so far.”
I dig the knife in harder, and Mathew winces, some of his bravado melting away. “And what would you do, brother? If you were in my shoes.”
I don’t need one more problem to deal with, especially not from my twin.
But I can’t deny the thrill of having the upper hand, and the anticipation of knowing all it would take is one move.
One slice, and I can remove Mathew from the board.
Your father would eventually get over it, especially when he finds out what Mathew’s done. It’s not the best way to solve your problems, but it would be effective.
Mathew’s breathing deepens. “This only ends one way. You and I both know it.”
I stare at Mathew for a while longer, the knife growing heavier in my hand.
After a long pause, I tuck it away and release my brother. I take a few steps back and clear my throat. “You aren’t worth it.”
Taking care of Mathew won’t change the fact that when push came to shove, Oliver was the one to betray me.
And it won’t take care of my Everett and Fitzpatrick problem.
With one last look in my twin’s direction, I walk away.
I wander the empty hallways of the manor, pausing every so often to listen for Mathew’s taunts and jeers.
When I don’t hear him, I circle back to the study and find it empty.
I finish half the whiskey bottle before Katia comes to find me.
She takes one look at the hand pressed against my side and says nothing.
When she returns with a first-aid kit, I scowl.
In silence, she presses the flesh together and begins to stitch.
I press my lips together and ignore the burning sensation.
As soon as she’s done, she stands up and leaves the room.
Gingerly, I climb up to the bedroom and find London fast asleep with her hair fanned out behind her.
She murmurs and reaches for me in her sleep.
I inch away from her, peel my shirt over my head, and leave it in a heap on the floor.
In the bathroom, when I close my eyes, I see Oliver’s face on the receiving end of my punches. I feel sick when I glance down at the wound and see the ugly shade of red. After cleaning it with some disinfectant, I splash water on my face and exhale.
London is in the same position when I pad back into the room.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at an unmarked spot on the wall.
In the morning, when I open my eyes, London is propped up on her elbows and looking at me through hooded lashes. My tongue feels heavy and awkward as I lean over to give her a quick peck. She wrinkles her nose, and her gaze follows me as I throw the cover off and stroll to the bathroom.
After splashing my face with cold water, I look up to see London in the doorway, her face knitted in concern. “I waited up for you last night.”
I reach for the towel and pat my face dry. “I had things to do.”
London sighs. “I wish I could help.”
I let my clothes fall into a heap and turn on the water in the shower. “You’re already helping.”
London doesn’t say anything as I pull the curtain back and step in.
When I crook a finger at her, London peels off her clothes and wraps her flushed body around mine.
I press her against the wall, and my mouth descends on hers, hot and demanding.
She winds her fingers through my hair and whimpers.
I press one arm on either side of her, caging her between me and the wall.
A moan falls from London’s lips as I slide down and pry her legs apart.
Carlisle is waiting for me by the front door when I come out an hour later. He falls into step beside me, and we get into the car together. In the back of the car, I take long sips of coffee and scroll through my phone until we reach the docks.
A group of men waits for me by the entrance.
They lead me to the warehouse at the far end, and a few more men pause to bow their heads in my direction.
Inside the warehouse, there’s a clamor of conversation and men rushing past in either direction.
Carlisle steps into position behind me as I listen.
Once I’m done, I leave the docks and sit in the back of the car.
My phone buzzes, and I shake my head at Olivia’s message.
Although I don’t appreciate the danger she’s putting London in by insisting on going to the club every few days to get wasted, I’m relieved she’s here. Olivia hasn’t had many female friends over the years, especially with the kind of life we lead, and I know that having London around helps.
Olivia will eventually have to go back to her life, and then what will you do? London is going to get attached, and you won’t be able to do anything about it.
Still, even a temporary friendship is better than the alternative.
I’ve already taken a lot from London, and I don’t have the heart to rip away anything else, especially when she has no one outside of Katia and Miss Deveroux.
I rap on the roof, and the car purrs to life.
I roll the window down and leave the phone in my lap.
A few blocks away from the dock, I spot a figure leaning against a wall and looking around.
When we draw closer, my eyes trail over the tight jeans, barely hanging off her ass, the tube top, and the red wig.
I do a double-take when we inch closer, and I catch a glimpse of her face.
Before we round the corner, I call out, and the car screeches to a halt.
I stick my head out of the window and see London with her arms folded over her chest.
Her bright eyes move around uneasily as she shifts from one heel-clad foot to the other.
Her eyes are heavily lined, and her lips are painted a bright red.
A figure rounds the corner; a tall, broad-shouldered man with a buzzcut and a cruel gleam in his eyes.
He leans in and whispers something to London, and she shakes her head.
The man advances on her and throws out his hand.
I’m out of the car and racing toward her before I know what I’m doing.
I catch his hand halfway to her face as the man begins to protest. Using my free hand, I push my jacket back, and his eyes widen when he sees the gun.
He holds both hands up and stumbles away before turning to beat a hasty retreat.
I wait until he’s a speck on the horizon before I turn to London, who looks like she might be sick.
“Mason. What are you doing here?”
“I’m the one who should be asking the questions.”
London swallows. “It’s not what it looks like.”
I raise an eyebrow. “It looks like you’re picking men off the street. I didn’t know you were into that.”
London winces. “That’s not fair.”
I grab her hand and drag her behind me. “We’ll discuss this in the car.”
“I think we should—”
I stop to look at her. “I don’t give a shit what you think right now. You can either willingly get in the car, or I’ll throw you in.”
London pries her hand away but complies.
In the car, she sits as far away from me as possible. The door shuts behind me, and a moment later, the car is moving again.
“I’m all ears.”
Whatever explanation she has, it had better be good because I’ve gone through several scenarios in my head, and I don’t like any of them.