Chapter 19 #2
There’s another concern too. The more I look at this man’s face—the hollowing around his eyes and cheeks, and his pale, almost sallow skin—the more I’m questioning whether he’s sick.
There’s something about him that even looks familiar.
I’m trying to pinpoint if we’ve crossed paths at some point.
Did we attend the same high school? Was he at reform school with me?
As quickly as this meeting has started, I’m about to put an end to it, having learned to trust my gut.
But red hair in the distance catches my attention.
Harper approaches, glowing from her performance and with a vibrant smile for me. The public news of our relationship can’t have had a detrimental impact on her career if she’s this happy.
I stand from the booth, drawing her into my arms and kissing her lips. “Welcome home, beautiful. How was your performance?”
She laughs. “Amazing. Ticket sales have tripled in the last few hours since that article about us went live. Have you had your meeting yet?”
“In the middle of it now.”
“Sorry to interrupt—”
Gregor stands from the table. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mitchel Gregor.” He shakes her hand, smiling a little too broadly at my lady. “So, you’re the real star of Felix’s world. I can see why. Very beautiful.”
With my arm around Harper’s waist, I feel her flinch at Gregor’s touch. I still can’t figure out why I’m wary of this man, but I don’t want him anywhere near Harper.
“Wait for me in my office,” I tell her. “I won’t be long.”
“Actually, I’d like to stay.” Harper eyes me, attempting to communicate some hidden message. Her voice is firm. She steps in front of me, like she’s trying to shield me with her body.
“Join us.” Gregor gestures for us to sit, pleased by her company.
I don’t like this one bit and pull Harper onto my lap, keeping her close.
The music on stage takes an upbeat turn, faster in pace and louder. Customers are now swinging on the dance floor, laughing and enjoying themselves.
Meanwhile, Gregor watches Harper and me with a faint smirk, sipping his whiskey. “Very attractive couple.”
“You look familiar,” Harper tells him. “Have we met before?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Gregor shoots back his drink and lowers the glass too hard to the table. His eyes land on the stage but his voice is aimed at me. There’s a snide quirk to his lips. “You ever think about how long it takes for a moment like this to come around?”
“A moment like what, exactly?” I ask.
“Meetings like this. Everything just... clicking.”
I still don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. “Harper, I need you to give us privacy—”
“I’ve imagined this exact scene more times than I can count. Always wondered how it would play out.” His eyes slide to me. “Would you know who I am?”
Harper flinches in my lap. I’m about to force an end to the meeting but I’m too late when Gregor pulls a pistol on me.
He doesn’t raise it high, just rests the gun on the table with his finger curled around the trigger.
No commotion is made. No nearby patrons realize anything is wrong.
Laughter and music continue around us. The lighting in this section of the speakeasy is dim and we’re concealed by the backrest of our booth.
I act fast and grab Harper’s waist, a split-second away from pushing her to safety. But she’s faster and grabs the steak knife from Gregor’s meal, stabbing it into his hand holding the pistol.
Blood spurts across the table. The gun spins out of his grasp, clattering to the floor. Harper has attacked with such brutal force that the blade pins Gregor to the tabletop.
She’s fucking insane. I’m in awe, stunned speechless.
I’ve always known Harper has a territorial streak that flares whenever anyone threatens what belongs to her.
But this display is more than I ever could have imagined.
She’s unrestrained, vicious and sexy as fuck.
I love this side of Harper. My perfect, violent Little Sinner.
“Crazy bitch!” Gregor shouts in agony, clutching his impaled hand.
Harper twists the knife, making him cry out again. “That’s right. I do turn into a crazy bitch when you pull a gun on my man. Now I know where I recognize your disgusting face from. You look just like that pathetic rapist, Paul Ferguson.”
“Shut your mouth about my brother,” the bastard growls. “Paul was too good for this world. No one understood him the way I did. He was a saint.”
Shit. Everything suddenly makes sense, why I knew something was off with Gregor. I study his face, seeing the resemblance now the connection has been stated. How the fuck did I not know Paul had a brother?
“You’re a dead man.” I wave over a member of security. Glancing around, no one has noticed the scene at our table. Voices are loud, as is the music.
“Not so fast.” Gregor is sweating and wincing in pain. Despite the knife sticking through his palm, a laugh trickles from his lips, slow at first, growing with intensity. He’s a lunatic. “You don’t want a dead cop on your hands, do you? You’ll let me walk free.”
Fuck. He’s a cop.
I hold up an arm, warning security to back off. My men take care of threats like Gregor whenever required. The difference is, everyone they knock off is from the underworld. No investigation ever takes place into their disappearance.
Killing a cop is a death sentence.
“You murdered my brother. You did a good job covering up the crime, but I’ve dedicated my life to uncovering the truth about Paul’s death. Now I know all your secrets.”
Harper twists the blade again. “Felix never killed anyone.”
“Don’t bother denying it.” He speaks through a mixture of groans and laughter. “I knew something wasn’t right about my brother’s death. But I don’t care about finding justice in a courtroom. All I care about is your pain and my revenge.”
I keep Harper tight in my arms while staring Gregor down. “What’s your plan—get even and kill me?”
“Yes, along with everyone you care about, starting with your pretty whore.”
My blood burns and I’m suddenly feral over the threat. “If you go after any of my family, if you so much as touch a strand of hair on Harper’s head, I will fucking kill you.”
His lips curl into a sickening smile. “Then you’re met with the same predicament—a dead cop on your hands. You can’t win this time.” His focus switches to Harper. “Pull the knife out of my palm, sweetie.”
She glares at him, twisting the knife once more before ripping it out.
“I may not have succeeded in ending you tonight, Blackwood. But you’ll let me walk free from this joint. Then one by one, everyone you care about will be killed. That’s a promise.”