Chapter 14
R iordan
Struan stalked into the apartment, a tray in one hand and a gun in the other. His gaze took in the corners of the room then me. “Cosy in here.”
I held my ground.
The door clicked closed, and the dangerous man set down the food and lifted his chin to his sister. “Eat.”
The barrel remained trained on me.
“We got a problem here?” I asked.
Cassie’s voice followed mine. “Um, Struan? Why are ye aiming at Riordan?”
I didn’t take my attention off him. No one had ever pulled a gun on me before, but this almost certainly wouldn’t be the last time.
Tension strung out between us.
Cassie reached down the side of the sofa and returned upright. In her hand, she held a gun of her own. “Bang, bang. Stop it.”
A beat passed, and Struan shrugged then flipped the weapon in his hand and held it out to me. “Ye left this downstairs, so Tyler informs me. Why?”
I curled my lip, not taking it, and also not liking the fact I had to admit another fault. “Carrying a gun and working out how the fuck to fire it would be a waste of time. I’m better off without it. Or I was.”
Cassie’s brother sighed. Dropped his arm. “Ye can’t shoot? I’m going to brain Arran. What did he do, recruit ye then leave ye to fend for yourself?”
“His friend died,” I countered. Arran was grieving.
“Aye, that’s no excuse for dropping the ball with the person protecting Cassie.”
From the sofa, Cassie stowed her weapon like nothing had happened and snagged a chicken drumstick. “In Arran’s defence, he didn’t know I’d claimed Riordan until I kidnapped him. But I’m inclined to agree.”
Struan grumbled and dropped into an armchair, setting the gun down on the table. My heart restarted, and I had half a mind to snatch it up and see how he liked being on the other end of the barrel. The psycho would probably enjoy it.
“Once you’ve eaten, we’ll move on to lesson two. Shooting and disarming. Really should’ve been able to flip control just then. I gave ye every chance.” He folded his arms and rested back then switched his gaze to Cassie. “Bullshit that Sin and Lottie have to stay another night.”
She ducked her head and shrank in on herself, all her bluster gone in an instant. “I don’t like it either. I just wish they were home and everything was okay.”
Cautiously, I took a seat next to her then helped myself to some of the food. Bottles of ice-cold water beaded on the tray, and I downed half of one before attacking the chicken. It had a barbecue marinade, plus there were hot, salted chips in a bowl. I needed food badly, yet as much as I concentrated on consuming calories, I couldn’t help noticing Cassie’s change in attitude.
What had her brother said? That Sin and Lottie were staying away? Cassie worried about them, she’d told me it had been a problem when she was a child, and I’d bet any money that hadn’t gone away. This would stress her out even more.
When the meal was done, we left the apartment, Struan going ahead with my gun casually lodged in his waistband. I shrugged on my leather jacket. Beside me, a quiet Cassie had already donned a thick hoodie. It had cat ears on the hood that she’d tugged up over her curls.
Cute as fuck, yet she wasn’t smiling.
I nudged her. “Everything will be okay with your folks.”
She shot me a surprised look. “I know. I was going to tell you about Lottie and Sin, but they only just messaged when I started talking to your sisters. There wasn’t time to process it, and it’s only a delay in their appointment, so no news. Also, sorry about my brother and the gun. He makes points in dramatic ways.”
“Runs in the family,” I grouched.
Cassie snickered and bumped her shoulder to my arm.
It was just an acknowledgement, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to throw my arm around her as we walked along.
I resisted.
She’d offered me a deal I’d barely started to get my head around. Both parts of it demanded my attention. With her strategic mind, revenge on the mayor could be so much easier. It might even save my skin. She had resources. An army of dangerous relatives like some kind of Mafia princess.
But it was the second part of the offer that tripped me up.
“Ye still haven’t given me an answer,” she said, low.
We passed the top of the staircase, continuing on down the corridor. Ahead, her brother took a corner, disappearing out of sight. In a patch of darkness, I stopped Cassie. Rounded on her.
“Two,” I said.
She tilted her head. “Two?”
I pressed my mouth to hers. With a squeak of surprise, she stilled, then kissed me back.
Head rush.
Hot blood.
Muscles taut to stop from grabbing her too roughly.
I meant to be brief, but the way she met me and moved with me flipped a switch in my brain that sent me back for more. I tugged her closer. Stifled a groan at another perfect press.
My heart thumped out of time.
Breaking away, I kissed below her ear then whispered, “Whatever I’m facing, why does it feel like the biggest danger is you?”
She twisted her lips in breathless amusement but didn’t reply.
Around the corner, Struan waited at the top of another broad hallway. I peered into the gloom. Down one side, moonlight filtered through windows in silver slices, and the other side was decorated with portraits. Heavy wooden frames containing oil paintings, the glimmer of gold around the edges proclaiming their age and importance.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Your training ground.” Struan took the gun to a side table then pulled something from his pocket. Bullets, from the heavy thud of the box and the clink of metal.
What the fuck? I dove my eyebrows together. “Enjoy bullet holes in your antiques?”
Her brother uttered a laugh, and Cassie curled her arm through mine, leading me down the corridor. I followed her gentle pressure, the easy contact almost familiar yet still startling.
“A little bit of history,” she said. “All the people in these portraits are our ancestors. Our father, who if ye recall was one of the worst people to have ever breathed, was so proud of his family history that he bred us kids in order to preserve it. But he had a second part to his plan. He chose sex workers to bear his children then left us to be raised in poverty. His reasoning was to toughen us up so none of us would ever take wealth and luxury for granted. Right at the point he was ready to claim one of us, we were kidnapped by someone else, but that’s another story.”
We stopped by a side table. On it was a white vase with blue painted flowers.
Cassie picked it up and held it out. “Throw it.”
I hesitated. It appeared old. Probably valuable. The type of object you edged around so you didn’t jog the table it sat on.
She rolled her eyes then reared back and launched the vase down the corridor. It hit the floorboards and shattered, pieces skidding away into the gloom.
From behind, her brother laughed under his breath.
Cassie took hold of my arm again and continued strolling. “The problem was, McInver, that’s his name, didn’t anticipate how much we’d hate everything he stood for. He assumed whichever of us he picked as his heir, which was Sin by the way, would fall at his feet with gratitude and keep his memory and family traditions alive. My sister-in-law researched that history, and there’s nothing pleasant about it. Our ancestors got rich mostly from hurting other people. So these arseholes,” she drifted a hand over the nearest painting on the wall, “don’t deserve your respect. But they do deserve your bullets.”
Nearer the end of the hall, I picked out something new in one of the portraits. Holes.
“You use them as target practice?” I asked.
Cassie beamed and squeezed my arm. “On occasion. We usually shoot into a sandbank on the estate, but this does just as well when I can’t go outside. Pick who you’d like to ventilate.”
My mouth fell open in silent humour. Striding to the wall, I lifted down a painting of some old guy in a white wig. Pieces of the destroyed vase crunched under my feet, and I followed Cassie’s direction, staggering slightly as the fucker weighed a ton, and propped his artwork up on a table at the end of the space.
We returned to Struan.
“Who’d he pick?” he asked.
“I think a great-grandfather four times removed. Another Sinclair McInver.”
“Nice choice.”
He handed me the gun. It was heavier than before. Loaded.
“Pretend he’s someone ye hate and put a bullet between his eyes.”
I hefted it. Exhaled. “You want me to shoot into the dark?”
“Think some fucker coming after my sister is going to wait until ye have good lighting?”
He had a point. It shouldn’t have been so easy to raise the gun, yet no caution or nerves troubled me. The man in the painting became the mayor, and I was on the riverbank with a chance not to fall.
“Do I need to take off the safety?”
“It doesnae have one. It’ll only fire if ye squeeze the trigger. Put the pad of your index finger to that then use the gun’s sights to line up your target. Straight arm, slow your breathing.”
I did, but peered back to make sure Struan and Cassie were well behind me.
Struan tilted his head. “What are ye waiting for?”
Fucking hell.
With my sights on the distant painting, I squeezed the trigger. A jolt and a crack and the bullet tore from the gun, just like in my dream except I was the one behind the weapon.
It hit something far down the corridor, right as I was recoiling from the shock. Spinning around, I set the gun carefully down on the table then shook out my hand. Cassie danced over.
“Let’s see how ye did losing your bullet virginity.”
The three of us jogged down and took in the portrait with a hole a few inches wide of the man’s head. If this had been a real person, I would’ve missed. My shoulders sank.
To my surprise, Struan clapped me on the back. “Ye did well. None of us hit the picture the first time. Now I’ll show ye how to avoid pulling left when ye shoot.”
The lesson continued. He talked me through how to load and unload and which way the bullets went in the cartridge. How to check if there was one already in the chamber. How not to hesitate if I was in a fight and the other person was armed.
Struan’s gaze went purposefully to his sister. “If her attacker is aiming, he plans to kill. Don’t second-guess someone else’s deadly intentions. Rely on your own.”
After Cassie’s startling police statistics, my view of the world was already shifting.
I took the lesson to heart.
Two shots later, I hit the bull’s-eye.
Pride flushed warm through me. I put my finger to the hole in the middle of the McInver grandfather’s forehead.
Struan whistled. “Nice. Perhaps we’ll all despise ye a little less if ye keep working this hard.”
I snorted. “Glad to impress you.”
“Let’s not go crazy now.”
At the end of the corridor, Tyler approached. My urge to celebrate with Cassie thinned with the way he regarded her.
“Something wrong?” she asked him.
“That favour you asked, I need to talk to you about it.”
Cassie gazed up at him wide-eyed then nodded. “Follow me.”
She directed Tyler into a room off the gallery, leaving the door ajar. I stared after them. What the hell did he need to talk to her about that no one else could hear? Thoughts battered me. I’d asked her if she planned to offer Tyler the same thing she had me.
What if he took her up on it?
I scowled and kept my gaze on the narrow slice I had into the room. Cassie perched on the table, her hands white-knuckling the wood either side of her.
Tyler leaned in and spoke low to her, their faces close.
My grip on the gun tightened.
Then he stepped back, and Cassie leapt to her feet and fucking hugged him.
I lurched. Struan grabbed my arm and neatly took the gun from me.
He regarded me dryly. “Don’t kill Tyler for looking at Cassie wrong. Or any other ally, for that matter. If they touch her against her will, that’s another matter, but if you’re not sure, use your fists to make your point. Save your bullets for those who deserve them.”
My phone buzzed, a similar sound coming from Struan and from inside the room.
The alert system.
My heart pounded. I straightened and reached to check my screen. “The gun,” I demanded.
Struan returned it to me, his wry amusement gone as fast as it had arrived.
Someone had breached the gates.