Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Christian
Goddamn. What the actual fuck was that kiss with Eve just now? I’d leaned in on instinct, hungry as always to taste her, but when our lips met, it felt like a bomb detonating inside me, throwing me off balance and laying waste to any sense of who I was before Eve waltzed into my life.
I’m still reeling from it as I walk down the hallway, running my hand through my hair like that might calm the chaos in my head. Every time I think I’ve got this shit with Eve figured out, I’m?—
“Hey, Cash is in the dining room. Did you know he was coming?”
Jackson’s voice jerks me back to reality. Turning, I find him standing there, arms crossed, looking annoyed.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to get my head back in the game. “I texted him earlier.”
Jackson’s expression hardens. “You didn’t want to give us a heads up?”
“Sorry, man.” I push out a breath, my thoughts still hooked on Eve. “I’ve been a bit distracted.”
He leans in and lowers his voice. “I thought we were cutting ties with Cash…”
“Yeah, well, that was before we had a traitor inside our own fucking house.” I’m attempting to rein in my anger, and it’s not working. “Cash is the only way we’re getting answers.”
A tic pulses in Jackson’s jaw. “Cash is going to spill blood, you know that. There are other ways we could do this.”
“Nothing that’ll get us answers quickly enough.”
Every second that ticks by without exposing the traitor among us is a second too long. As Sacred Sons, we took vows to protect our members. The bylaws forbid violence against another member unless it’s in self-defense.
Given that, what options do we have? We could investigate, sure. And if that investigation reveals the culprit, then we’d call for a tribunal, present our evidence, exile the cunt from the Burning Crown, then mete out some degree of justice. All that red tape could take weeks.
Cash’s methods are faster.
“Maybe Lucas is right. Maybe this shit with Eve has gone too far,” Jackson says, concern evident in his voice. “Just cut her loose, man. Let her go. We don’t need her to strike back at Sin.”
Fists clenched, I itch to drive my knuckles into Jackson’s face. It’s not his fault, I remind myself. He doesn’t know shit about what I’m doing. I was careful to keep him and the others ignorant of my plans. So yeah, from his perspective, maybe keeping Eve around is a dumb move.
Stretching my fingers out, I flex my hands at my sides. “Okay, say we cut her loose. Then what?” I say. “We still have someone in this house willing to go after what’s mine. Or yours. Are you chill with that? What if they go after your consort next? Or your sister?”
His eyes widen at the mention of his little sister.
“Yeah,” I say. “Exactly. This problem is bigger than Eve.”
And call me paranoid, but my own damn cousin turned against us in the weeks before he was killed. He had his grievances, sure, but never in a million years did I think he’d cut ranks and join another secret society—not to mention a society we didn’t even know about. That betrayal blindsided everyone, especially Lucas and me.
Jackson tilts his head back for a second, and I follow him as he continues down the hallway toward the dining room. “Let’s just get this over with,” he says under his breath. “I hate dealing with Cash. The guy is deranged.”
“But he gets shit done,” I say with a smile. “You can’t argue with his results.”
Cash is sitting at the head of the table, leaning back casually, feet propped up on the polished wood surface. His black button-down shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, exposing the collection of tattoos that snake up his forearms. His signature black wool overcoat is tossed over one of several empty chairs.
Ash walks in at the same time we do, Lucas coming in right behind him. Lucas stops short when he sees Cash at the table.
“For fuck’s sake. What the hell is this?” Lucas says, turning a sharp glare on me. “You failed to mention this asshole was going to be here.”
“Great to see you, too, Boss,” Cash laughs, tilting back in his chair, cigarette dangling from his lips. “How’s the girlfriend? Still hot as fuck?”
Shit. I can already feel the heat coming off Lucas at the mention of Wyn. I tap Lucas’s chest to pull his attention back to me. “Chill, man. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Sit down.”
We all take seats around the table—Lucas and Jackson cautious, Ash completely clueless. He’s never met Cash, so unless one of the guys clued him in, he has no idea why we’re all so tense.
Lucas is sitting back from the table, arms crossed over his chest. “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck he’s doing here?”
Cash blows out a billow of smoke, angling his dark gaze on Lucas. “Oh, come on. You’re not still pissed about the spring picnic thing. That was years ago.”
Lucas narrows his eyes at Cash. “Yeah, dude. You almost killed me.”
Cash nods slowly, laughing, like he remembers the incident fondly. “Yeah, that was my bad.”
“You b—?” Lucas cuts himself off with a shake of his head, nearly reaching over the table to strangle Cash. He manages to hold himself back, but just barely. He turns to face me. “Seriously, Christian. What the fuck is this cunt doing here?”
“Yo, language.” Cash flicks his ashes onto the polished wood floor. “We’re all friends here, remember?” Lucas glares at him. “Fine, we’re friendly. And I’m here to help you solve a problem. Isn’t that right, Christian?”
“Someone tried to kill Eve,” I tell Lucas. “We need to find out who it was.”
Lucas doesn’t ask questions, and I’m sure that’s because he already knows what happened. Wyn is pretty connected within the Burning Crown, and she stays informed on what’s happening.
“So you want to, what, sic this psycho on the members to get information?” Lucas asks, completely fucking incredulous.
“That’s the plan,” I say simply. “But you know the drill—I need the other Sacred Sons’ buy-in.”
We know Cash—Cassian Romano—through his father, who has mafia ties and served as a fixer for the Burning Crown for a couple of decades. The old man was smart as fuck and as lethal as a coiled viper waiting in the shadows—quick, precise, and utterly merciless.
Cash is ten times more savage than his father ever was.
We spend the next half hour negotiating the price, setting down parameters—what Cash can and can’t do to get to pry the truth out of our members—before we’re all finally in agreement. Only Ash seems distrustful, questioning why Cash’s involvement is necessary. Ultimately, though, he caves and agrees to let Cash do his thing.
“Well—” Cash flicks his cigarette onto the floor and crushes it under the toe of his designer shoe. “Let’s catch ourselves a rat, shall we?”
He gathers his coat, slides it on, and heads for the door. Just before leaving, he turns back with that signature smile—the one that looks charming but can’t quite mask the predator lurking behind his eyes. “I’ll be in touch. Lock your bedroom doors tonight, gentlemen. Wouldn’t want the boogeyman to get you.”
“You’re the fucking boogeyman,” Lucas mutters.
“As I said…” Cash laughs as he strolls out the door.
“Thank God that’s over,” Lucas says, pushing back from the table. He seems more rattled than usual, which I chalk up to the jumpscare of seeing Cash sitting at our dining room table. “I need a joint.”
Before anyone can move, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Jackson opens it to reveal Jackson’s uncle, John McKnight, flanked by three other members of the senior counsel.
Lucas shoots me a questioning look.
“Before you leave,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I’ve asked the senior counsel to join us. We have one more important piece of business to discuss…”