Chapter Twenty-Five #2
I see my father’s face when I punch him, and then I see my brother’s.
Michael lands a punch to my stomach, but it only enrages me more. I get him in a chokehold as we spin. He squirms and pushes off with his legs, hoping to throw me off. I tighten my grip.
I can almost taste his blood on my lips.
I lose the upper hand when Lance rushes me from behind and knocks me down.
Stars dance in my vision.
I give them both a bloody smile. “You have some balls after all. Good.”
After spitting out a mouthful of blood, I charge them.
Suddenly, and without warning, bullets start flying in every direction.
Everything around me is a blur, and I can barely hear anything past the roar in my ears.
I’m still wrestling Michael when I spot a familiar head of hair.
Carlisle and Katia fight their way to me, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.
When they reach me, I’ve got my arms around Michael, and my knuckles are raw and bloody.
Michael is panting and heaving, but he’s no closer to getting to me.
I kick him to the ground and press hard on his wound. He grunts and doubles over. I take out another gun and look around for Lance. I fire in his direction but miss. Then Lance appears in front of me and tries to wrestle the gun out of my hand.
Another bullet flies into the sky.
I let the gun fall from my hand and throw my weight into Lance. I smile when my fingers close around his broken wrist, and his face contorts in pain.
I’m still towering over Michael and Lance on the ground when I hear sirens in the distance.
My heart pounds when I realize that a bigger fight has broken out, unleashing hell on the docks. I blink, and my vision sharpens, revealing my men and theirs entangled in a blur of shapes and colors. With a frown, I give Michael and Lance another kick and leap backward.
Katia appears by my side and wordlessly carves a path back to the car.
I have no idea how or why the cops know what’s happening when they’re paid well to turn a blind eye, but I know I can’t get caught in the middle of it.
It’s one thing for someone lower in the food chain to get caught, and we have protocols in place, but if my name is anywhere near this, it’ll snowball into something bigger.
Carlisle’s face is bruised and bloody when he gets into the driver’s seat and slams the door. Katia lowers the window and shoots as the tires screech and we drive off. Once the docks are a speck in the rearview mirror, I reach into my jacket and pull out a handkerchief.
I wipe my face and exhale. “How the fuck did the police find out?”
Carlisle grips the steering wheel tighter and swerves onto a narrow side street, earning a few angry honks. “I don’t know what the hell happened.”
Katia reloads her gun and turns to face me, a few wisps of hair framing her face. “It must’ve been a setup. Everett and Fitzpatrick luring you out to throw you to the mayor.”
“They wanted to serve me up and cut a deal with him. Those fucking assholes. I’m going to rip them apart with my bare hands. Carlisle, turn the—”
The rest of my sentence is cut off by my ringing phone.
I frown when I see my father’s name flash across the screen.
I debate whether to answer for a moment before wiping the blood from my knuckles and the side of my face and taking a deep breath.
“Now isn’t a good time, Father.”
“What the fuck did you do? I’m getting phone calls from the Everetts and the Fitzpatricks telling me you stormed the docks and attacked their men.”
The least they can do is own up to their coup.
Goddamn cowards.
“I wouldn’t have had to if they weren’t meeting behind my back. They’re staging a coup—”
“I didn’t realize I raised a goddamn pussy,” Jack interrupts. “Stop letting your pride get in the way of your job. You’re supposed to strategize and find a way to quietly deal with things.”
White-hot anger pulses through me. “Am I supposed to wait until they stick a knife in my back? No. I don’t care how you do things, but I am not—”
His voice is cold and harsh. “And what’s this I hear about a woman staying in the mansion? Get your little whore out of there before I come down there and deal with her myself.”
Ice creeps up my spine. “I see you’re still spying on me.”
“You forget yourself, boy,” Jack replies. “I’m the one who built you and gave you power, and I can easily take it away. Get that nuisance out, or I’ll take care of it myself.”
I swallow. “She’s not staying in the mansion, and she’s only there to help me blow off steam.”
“Do it somewhere else,” Jack snaps over muffled voices in the background. “So help me God, Mason, if I have to come down there, what happened today will be the least of your problems.”
Without waiting for a response, he hangs up, and I’m left staring at the phone.
I’m not surprised he’s still spying on me.
It’s what Jack Payne does best.
He didn’t build an empire without covering all his bases and making sure everything unfolded a certain way, including his sons.
As the face of the Payne empire, I should have known better.
Why hadn’t I tried harder to hide London?
Having bigger problems to worry about isn’t an excuse, especially after the disaster I just left behind.
London shouldn’t even be on my father’s radar, and a small part of me is worried about why.
Who sold me out?
And why does the thought of punishing someone make me feel marginally better?
Given the day you’ve had, you shouldn’t be surprised. Finding the person who is reporting to your father will give you something to do, and it’ll keep your mind off what happened and whether you need to be in the market for new allies.
Fucking hell.
Why couldn’t Michael and Lance just stick to what they knew and keep the machine running?
How far up does the whole thing go?
I’m rubbing my fingers against my temples and ignoring my pounding headache as I turn my father’s words over in my head.
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.
London doesn’t belong in the mansion, and knowing she’s nearby has only made me feel off-kilter.
You know you can’t stand the thought of her being too far.
I hate feeling like everything is spinning out of control.
When Carlisle pulls up outside the compound, the wrought-iron gates creak open, revealing the guards posted outside and the mansion in the distance, bathed in the light of the afternoon sun.
I’m still wiping blood off my face when I spot a green sports car near the side of the house.
My heart stutters as I recognize it and go cold all over.
Before Carlisle has come to a stop, I wrench open the door and throw myself out.
I race up the stairs two at a time. I can’t hear anything past the thundering in my ears, and I’m dimly aware of Katia and Carlisle shouting behind me.
I’ll kill him.
If he’s laid one finger on her, I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of him to find.
I storm past my household staff, some of whom pause to gape at me.
When I burst into the living area and see Mathew towering over London, I forget how to breathe.
Then she glances over her shoulders, and our eyes meet, and my heart starts back up again, relief flooding my senses.
My eyes move over her quickly, making sure there isn’t a single hair out of place.
Finally, slowly, I wrench my gaze away and wait for him to look up at me.
Mathew lifts his gaze to mine and gives me a knowing smile. “There he is. I told you I could make him rush home.”
London takes in the cut over my eye, and her eyebrows pinch together. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” I reply coolly. “What are you doing here, Matt?”
And why is he standing so close to London?
Did my father send him as a warning to keep me in line?
Mathew steps away from London. “We haven’t seen each other in ages. Is that any way to talk to your brother?”
London glances between us and says nothing.
“I’ve got some things to take care of,” Mathew says loudly. “Why don’t I leave you two to catch up?”
Without waiting for a response, he strides past me, and I don’t miss the gleam in his eyes.
It takes every ounce of strength I have not to reach out and slam him into the nearest wall.
I wait a while longer to be sure he’s out of earshot before I turn to London, who is on her feet and walking toward me.
London stops in front of me and looks at my eye with concern. “You should get that looked at.”
“I’m fine,” I reply. “You shouldn’t be here.”
London brushes past me and steps into the kitchen. In silence, she rummages through the cupboards. Then, she sets a box down on the counter. She swings open the freezer door and rustles around before pulling out a pack of frozen peas. She brings the box and the pack and motions to the couch.
“I don’t need your help,” I say stiffly.
“That’s fine.” She pries open a bottle of antiseptic and douses a piece of cotton. “I’m offering anyway. This is going to sting.”
I shiver when her fingers touch my face. “Why are you doing this?”
London dabs the wound and avoids my gaze. “Because you look like you could use it. Don’t read too much into it.”
My fingers close around her wrist, and I wait for her to look at me. “This isn’t what we do.”
London finally meets my gaze, and I’m surprised by the understanding and compassion there. “I know.”
My grip tightens as I search her face. “Do you?”
London nods and withdraws her hand. “Yes, I do.”
I drop my hand. “I can have someone else take care of this.”
London draws her bottom lip between her teeth and says nothing. Then she reaches for the ice pack and presses it to the side of my face. “Do you remember the day we met at the diner?”
“Vaguely,” I say through clenched teeth. “Why?”
“You helped me when I hurt myself.” London pauses to peruse the contents of the box. “Think of this as a way for me to return the favor.”
I remove the ice pack and narrow my eyes. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
London stops looking and meets my gaze. “In the mansion or in general?”
“In the mansion.”