Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rush
I step back into the elevator with Gris. “Jesus,” he looks me up and down. “I can’t believe you just took that beating.”
I wipe my mouth. “You have to know you all did worse to me every day of my childhood.”
“Fuck off. Your nose is crooked. We didn’t break bones.”
I glare at him. “Killian did that. Your point is shit.”
He drops his head for a second, hiding his smile. Only a brother would laugh at that. But when he looks up at me, he winces again. “Doctor?”
“No. Not tonight. I’ll tape up the nose, wash off the blood, then go check on Gigi.”
Gris’s eyes close and his face spasms. “What Vigo did to them… I still can’t believe that shit.”
I can’t answer. I didn’t even know Gigi then, but I have this feeling like I should have known her. Should have protected her. “When Vigo punched me all I could think was, did he hit Gigi like this?”
“Fuck,” Gris turns, slamming his palm against the wall. “Gigi is such a gentle person. And Emma… How can he live with himself?”
“He’s not going to have to try after tonight,” I blow out.
“You mean it?” Gris steps closer to me.
“I mean it.”
“You sure you don’t want Killian to take care of it? He’s good at that sort of thing.”
“I’m sure. This is my job.” I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I will kill that asshole, and then I’ll dismantle every piece of his empire.
“Rush.”
“It has to be me.” For Gigi. For Emma. And for the future I have in mind for us and for New York.
“What’s next?”
“Can you help me clean up?” I ask him, as the doors slide open. I step into the hall, Gris behind me. When the doors close, I lock the elevators again. “And I’m calling Matteo. I’d like you to listen.”
“Yes. And yes.” Gris follows me into my apartment. “Where is Killian?”
“Following Vigo. He’ll be in touch, I’m sure.” Somewhere through this, Killian and I now understand each other much better. It didn’t have to be said. He knew what I needed and I knew he’d understand.
We walk into my penthouse. It’s a huge modern space that I liked when I first moved in. But now…it feels cold. This is not the kind of space Emma should grow up in.
We’ll have to redecorate.
Then I realize, I might be getting a little ahead of myself. Gigi might not want anything to do with me after today.
I let out a long sigh, as I start removing my clothes on my way to the bathroom. My T-shirt hurts me the worst when it brushes my nose.
I wash off the blood and hold still while Gris pushes my nose back into place, taping it to keep it where it belongs.
I hold still, but my eyes water like a bitch.
A look in the mirror reveals my face is a mess. Two black eyes and a taped-up nose.
My torso is blooming in dark bruises.
I grab the bottle of ibuprofen and pop several pills.
Everything hurts.
Rolling my neck, I pull out my phone and press on Matteo’s contact.
The line only rings once before he picks up. “Funny to hear from you.”
“Why is that funny?”
“I’m standing outside your building, which is locked as tight as a drum. And the lobby looks like a cyclone ripped through it.”
“One did. His name is Vigo Sinclair.”
“Shit.”
“Why are you outside my building?”
“I was picking up my dinner date,” he answers. “But I could come up and chat with you instead.”
“Building’s on lockdown. To see me, you’d have to walk up twenty-six flights of stairs.”
“Fuck.”
“Who was your date?” My breath holds as I wait for his answer. Because I know he knows Gigi somehow. Some way.
“Dinner date. Different from date, date,” he says easily. “And if you’re asking if it was Gigi, the answer is no. She doesn’t know me and what little she saw of me this morning, she didn’t like.”
“But you know her.”
“I do.” Static fills the phone like he’s shuffling around.
Normally, I’d wait, but I’m short on patience tonight. “How?”
“She’s my cousin,” he answers, and I look up at Gris who looks as shocked as I feel.
“But…”
“Her father didn’t want her growing up around criminals.
Go figure. So he stopped speaking to his brother—my father— and kept Gigi away from us.
I’m ten years older than her, so I remember her when she was three, maybe four years old.
I can’t quite remember. Cutest little thing.
Big brown eyes.” He stops and my chest tightens, thinking of Emma.
“But I’ve met her twice now, once at Vigo’s, and then again this morning, and it’s clear she doesn’t know who I am. ”
Fuck. Me.
“Why didn’t you help her?” I grit out, knowing it’s not a fair question. But my hackles are up where Gigi is concerned.
“I didn’t have the power to take on Vigo directly. You fucking know it. But I did help her. I sent my sister—” He stops.
“Your sister?”
“I sent her help, a woman, who gave her a place to hide, and then I gave her a new identity. Gigi Hope. And I made sure she ended up in your office, though becoming your assistant was an unforeseen twist.”
I look at Gris again. “Erika,” he mouths.
Of course. If tonight hadn’t been so full of beatings and information I would have seen it sooner.
“And where do you fall in all of this, in terms of Vigo and me?” I’m careful to ask the question without a hint of culpability.
“I’m with you, the Smiths, the Kincaids, all the way. I’ll help you pull the fucking trigger if you need me.”
Well. That didn’t leave a lot of gray, which I appreciate. “And in return?”
“We can discuss that later. Right now, what I want is a chance to properly introduce myself to my cousin.”
“All right,” I let out a long breath of air. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I look forward to it.”
So do I. Because if I call Matteo Andriani again, it will be because Vigo Sinclair is dead.