8. Andre #2
As soon as my feet hit the living room, I froze. The couch was in disarray, and one of the cushions was strewn on the floor.
Grey, Lafe, and Amorette all stared at it. The only one who wasn’t affected at all was Parker. Why would he be? He hadn’t been here. He wouldn’t have had a clue what happened. He grabbed the pillow from the ground and tossed it back in its place before dropping onto the sofa.
I cleared my throat and headed for the liquor. This time, I paused for a different reason.
He’s your fucking brother! You all should be helping him. Getting him clean. Counseling.
Fuck. I let my head fall back as I groaned and glared at the ceiling.
There was no way I’d place my brother in front of a counselor to empty his heart of our secrets and sins. That was a big fucking hell no. It was never a good idea to give anyone ammunition over us. If he needed to talk, he had three brothers to share this shit with.
But the rest. Getting him clean…
We had been damn shitty brothers. Spinning on my heel, I headed toward the kitchen and grabbed four water bottles. They wouldn’t do anything to take the edge off, but they were at least cold.
Passing them out, I ignored the looks of my brothers and Amorette.
“No one is leaving this room until we all know what the hell happened. Parker, since you started this fucking storm, you might as well go first.” I pinned him with a look.
His nose wrinkled like he smelled something sour, but it smoothed away. “If you’re referring to the club in LA, yes, I burned the hell out of it.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We already knew that. But what I want to know is, what the fuck were you thinking ?” I ended on a yell. “Vicente has fucked us three ways from Sunday at every turn. What was going through your head to make you think that was a good idea?”
Parker didn’t get a chance to answer. Grey cut in. “He set my hotel on fire.” His voice was low, menacing. “Because of you, I lost the one thing that has been solely mine.”
Where nothing we’d done or said had made a difference, that cut through. A myriad of emotions flitted over his face. Shock, sadness, outrage, then finally setting on regret. I didn’t think Parker would care; he was always so fueled by his own interests.
“That wasn’t my intent,” he said softly as he met Grey’s glare with remorseful eyes.
“I’m sorry, brother.” He shook his head slightly.
“I wasn’t thinking about the repercussions.
I wanted to get back at Vicente for fucking up my plan that I’d spent so many hours devising.
If I’d known he would take it out on anyone other than me, I never would have left the compound. ”
“What do you mean if you’d known?” Grey shot to his feet and kicked the coffee table over. Amorette jumped, but Lafe, the fucking new shining hero that he was, placed a hand on her knee. “Of course, he was going to target one of us. Your empty apologies mean nothing, brother. ”
Amorette didn’t seem to like the turn the conversation took and threw us off another cliff.
“What was Vicente talking about?” She angled her body toward Lafe. He leaned forward as if drawn to her flame.
“What do you mean?” His fingers curled into her inner thigh. Grey sneered at them and plopped back down in the chair, crossing his arms.
“When he said you’d tried to save someone before…” She tilted her head.
My stomach fell out. In my peripheral vision, I could feel Grey's and Parker’s gazes burning into me. But it was Lafe I watched. His face lost color, and he jumped back from her as if she’d burned him.
“That was in Spanish, wasn’t it?”
“No,” she said, confusion coloring that one word. “That part was in English.”
He rolled his lips together, one of the signs he’d used recently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her brow furrowed. She clearly wasn’t buying it. “I’d rather you say you don’t want to talk about it than lie to me.”
“I’m not—shit. I can’t—”
“It’s my fault.” I blew out a harsh breath. “When we were kids—”
“Vicente put a hit on you,” Lafe breathed as he whipped his head to me.
Ice filled my veins. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard that right.”
His gaze darted between Amorette and me as he pushed back to the corner of the couch.
“When did this happen?” I asked, much calmer than I felt. This wasn’t good. There were only a handful of assassins who Vicente kept on retainer. Any of them were lethal. But they all had greater than a ninety-five percent success rate.
“When we were stuck with them.” Lafe rubbed his knees and kept rubbing.
Fucking hell how much powder had he taken?
It wasn't obvious when he was taking care of Amorette, but now, in the face of stress, all his signs were appearing. “He texted Danny. I don’t think he actually wants you dead. He made comments…” Lafe ran his hands through his hair, subtly shifting back and forth like he was about to lose it.
“I’m certain he doesn’t want you to die. This is a sick game to him.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. Vicente had never placed a hit on me before. Of any kind. This meant the situation was devolving faster than I anticipated. “What brought this on?” I asked quietly.
Lafe flicked his gaze to Amorette. “I couldn’t do it again, Andre. Not with her. You don’t know what she did. I—I couldn’t—” He grimaced, then turned pleading eyes to me. My younger brother was asking for forgiveness.
I'd forced him to kill a girl to save himself—and us. And Vicente tried to recreate it.
If I could slit that motherfucker’s throat, I would do it with a smile.
Amorette was still confused, yet her sharp mind was piecing it together.
But me? My emotions were icing over, and something close to an aching numbness engulfed me.
“I don’t blame you. Not now.” I held his stare so he’d see exactly how serious I was.
I knew he couldn’t harm Amorette any more than he could hurt one of us.
"I need you to start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened, starting with how they lured you there.”