Chapter 17
FAINA
“Ugh, motherfucker.” Hanging up the phone, I flop back on the bed and stare up at the patchwork of cracks spreading across the ceiling.
For two days I’ve been calling every old favor I have to try and get us snuck into Egypt, which means I’ve been talking to people I’d much rather never have spoken to ever again.
Erik and Anastasia were a brief option, but contacting them risks alerting Hawk to what we’re up to, but every day we spend trying to find a way into another country is another day Hawk has to get further away from us.
It’ll be worth it in the long run. That’s what I’m telling myself after spending twenty minutes talking to a manic Russian man who is the last awkward piece in my travel plans.
Every person and favor I’ve roped into this is rather small but together, it should get Cian and me into Egypt without much hassle.
Assuming everything goes to plan.
“You good?” Cian appears in the doorway with a bag in hand and he kicks the motel room door shut with one foot.
“No.”
“Bad call?”
“Basically.” Sighing dramatically, I pull myself back up into a seated position. “I’m running out of favors, so let’s hope Egypt is our last call.”
“We’re not that lucky,” he scoffs while setting the bag down on the chest of drawers across from the bed. “When do we leave?”
I tap my phone screen to pull up the time. “Six hours, give or take. What’s that?” I eye the bag.
Cian starts to empty it, revealing bottles of water and some fresh clothes.
Watching him unpack creates a strange warmth in my chest. If I squint, there’s something domestic about this moment and I like it.
I study Cian as he shakes a bottle of water at me then sets it down next to another two on the drawers.
He’s standing a little taller now than when we first reunited.
And his smile reaches his eyes, which is a relief.
The dead look was scaring me more than I ever wanted to admit.
Seeing the man I care so deeply about in so much pain was killing me because there was nothing I could do to help him.
Grief is painful and personal, but being here and supporting him with this finally seems like it’s paying off.
And I catch his gaze lingering from time to time which only gives growth to the hope in my heart that our time together has been less than frantic stress-relieving sex and actually means more. Like all the feelings we had for each other last year are still there.
Maybe that’s just a dead-end hope, though.
“You’re staring,” Cian says after a moment, dragging me from my thoughts. “And it’s either because I’m so devilishly handsome or something is on your mind.” He smirks that cute, lopsided smirk and my heart flutters.
“Maybe it’s both.”
He scoffs in disbelief and finishes putting the water bottles into the mini fridge, then he leans against the chest of drawers and crosses his ankles while uncapping the last bottle of water. “You gonna elaborate on all these favors you’ve been calling in?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” My phone becomes a distraction as I toss it lightly back and forth between my hands. “I know people who can help in the way we need help.”
“People from your past?” Cian’s dark brow lifts briefly.
“Exactly.”
“But people you don’t want to talk about.”
My eyes narrow. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m curious and we’ve got six hours to kill. Is it really bad that I want to know about these strange people who are going to sneak us into Africa?”
“It’s not sneaking…” Sighing, I shake my head and wrap my phone between my fists. “I just had a life before I met you. Hell, it was a life before Anastasia.”
“I thought you were just managing clubs before Anastasia took over?”
So he’s done his research. Makes sense. “To an extent.”
“And the people in the club circuit are who are helping us?”
I can’t stop the bubble of laughter that rises. “No, although I would maybe pay to see those idiots try to help us.”
“So?” Cian drinks his water. “Who are they?”
“I… look, I don’t know how things worked in your world.
Mafia families aren’t exactly known for their equality and Anastasia’s father was a tyrant.
He was cruel and cold and probably the most unkind man I’ve ever seen.
Anastasia was this quiet, powerful girl but she was still just his daughter.
She was the only other girl I saw while growing up. ”
“Can’t have been easy.” Cian’s brow dips deeply.
“It was life.” I shrug. “My father was the chef so I was mostly overlooked, but everyone under that tyrant’s rule was expected to know how to fight.
I hated it at first. It was exhausting and I was tired of being in pain all the time, but my own father?
” My cheek throbs with the distant ghost of his fist. “He wasn’t kind either.
He had his own agenda for a while and so I did work for him.
When it turned out I was actually a decent fighter, I worked for everyone.
Anyone who had trouble. Anyone who needed money collected or a debt called in, or a threat made.
I was sent because no one would suspect someone like me to be the problem. ”
“Damn,” Cian mutters. “I gotta say, if you turned up on my doorstep and I didn’t know you, I think I’d be scared.”
“That’s because you know me,” I say with a smile. “And I’m nice to you.”
“This is you being nice?”
“Fuck you.” We laugh softly. “For a while, all the work that took me away from the clubs was actually fun. I hated being at home and working in the clubs was okay, but it was so boring. I’m not a paper pusher. I like being active.”
“I can tell.”
Rolling my eyes, I slide from the bed. “Come on, if we’re going to talk more about my past, then I can’t do it on an empty stomach.”
Arm in arm to blend in, we wander through the streets of Greece, melting through crowds like we belong here.
The weather’s getting warmer and the sinking sun turns the city into a wonderful place of gold light, soft gray cobbles, and flowing music.
Restaurants spill out onto the streets with their loud laughter, good music, and mouthwatering smells.
Cian and I eventually choose a small restaurant tucked away in the corner of a street where the noise is just enough to hide us but not enough to overwhelm.
“Are you sure you can handle some authentic Greek food?” I smirk at Cian over my menu. “Aren’t the Irish kind of famed for not having the greatest taste palate?”
“One, you’re thinking of the English and two, I grew up in America,” Cian shoots back immediately. “You’d get away with a greasy fast food joke. Maybe.”
“Alright, alright. My mistake.”
“I’d ask the same of you but if your father was a chef, then I’m sure you tried all sorts of stuff.”
“Not really. His focus was on the Russian family, not me. Half the time, he treated me like an inconvenience and the other half, I was only useful if it directly benefited him.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Cian frowns deeply once more. “I just sort of assumed…”
“Yeah, most do. I worked the clubs and my father was the cook. How terrible could things really be?”
“I don’t think there’s any kind of competition in our line of work.
” Cian falls silent as the waiter appears and we order a few appetizers to start.
After he leaves, Cian leans one elbow on the table and looks at me with genuine concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry you had a rough time with your father. ”
“Russians are cold and cruel,” I reply with a smile.
“And my father had goals. Goals that changed often, and he didn’t care how it affected other people.
However, the people I helped or worked for are the ones who owe me.
I’d started taking the jobs no one wanted to take, the really dark fucked up ones.
Kidnap. Torture. That sort of thing. I didn’t enjoy it but it was like…
” Wrinkling my nose, I relax back in my chair.
“I knew these people would owe me and after my father died, at the time, I had other ideas. But then Anastasia killed her father and slaughtered all those generals, and suddenly, I was Underboss. My priorities shifted immediately because she was the only person who treated me like I was a person, y’know? ”
“I understand.” Cian nods. “I don’t know all the details of what went down in your family, but Anastasia seems to have been taking you all in a good direction.”
The waiter appears with wine and pours us both a glass, then our food is delivered a minute later.
Once we’re alone and I’ve savored a few bites, I hum.
“Anastasia’s done a lot. Which is partly why I feel so gross calling in these favors because half those people have lost a lot under her leadership.
She made sure to shove the cruel to the bottom, and those she didn’t kill have to earn their way back up. ”
“I’m sure she won’t mind that you’ve had to reach out to them.”
“No, she won’t.” I savor another few mouthfuls. “It just reminds me of a time I’d rather forget.”
“I never knew any of this about you,” Cian says thoughtfully as he nurses his wine. “You always seemed so…”
“Aloof?” I offer.
“No, not in the slightest. I never took offense at how quiet you were. It intrigued me. I think we were all waiting for some kind of implosion when Anastasia took over, but instead, it was probably the best thing to happen to all of us.”
“All of us?” I arch one brow. “You included?”
“Yes. Without it, we never would have met.”
It feels like Cian is dancing around saying something he doesn’t have the confidence to talk about yet.
I want to reach across the table and grab him by the collar to demand he talk to me straight, but that’s never been Cian’s style.
There’s always been an emotional shyness about him that I find so endearing.
It makes it even sexier when he loses control and rips my clothes off.
But we’re running on such limited time now and part of me is terrified that when we finally secure and kill Hawk and take down Hexagon, that will be it for Cian.
He’ll have nothing left to live for. It’s selfish of me to want to be the reason Cian clings on, but that’s the truth that aches in my soul every time our eyes meet.
Slowly licking sauce from my lower lip, we eat and make small talk about our travels around the world while the waiter remains in earshot tending to another table.
Our main meal consists of pasta dishes that we end up swapping after two bites as Cian’s dish is more to my tastes and vice versa.
When the table near us finally leaves and we’re alone again, the sun is nearly behind the horizon and a deep orange glow reflects in Cian’s eyes as he ignores his wine in favor of water.
“So, this is the most time you’ve spent outside of America?”
He nods. “I did some traveling to Italy and Japan once, but other than Ireland to see my father, there was never cause for me to travel.”
“Is it… weird?” I probe gently. “To think about your family?”
I fully expect Cian to clam up like usual, but while his gaze falls to his half-eaten plate, he doesn’t immediately shut me down. “It’s weird because I still forget they’re gone. Everything that happens… my first thought is to tell Saoirse.”
“She’d be proud of you.”
His gaze flicks up to mine. “Maybe. Sometimes, I think I still feel her.” He presses his palm flat to his chest. “Like a twin thing… it’s like she’s still here. But I think that’s because I can’t let go.”
I can’t fathom the scope of Cian’s loss, but the fact that he’s talking about it is a huge improvement. Leaning forward against the table, I rest my chin on my upturned palm. “There’s no maybe. She would be proud. They all would.”
“You think?” He looks up at me with such painful, open honesty that my heart aches. Beneath the coldness and the occasional anger, Cian’s like a bleeding wound seeking comfort and I want to provide it. I want to be who he leans on after all this to heal.
But I want him with me in any condition, even if it means he’ll be bleeding forever.
“I know so,” I repeat softly. “I can say that because I care about you maybe almost as much as they did.”
His eyes flicker in a half-blink and his fingers flex against his chest. “Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if I hadn’t kept us a secret.”
My stomach flutters. “It’s a sweet thought, but I doubt it.”
“You think?” His head tilts. “Everything connects even when we don’t want it to. The smallest decision might have prevented everything.”
“Maybe. Although sometimes, I felt like Saoirse knew. If she hadn’t been so caught up in everything, I bet she wouldn’t have been surprised.”
“She was pretty sharp.” Cian smiles fondly. “She knew my heart.”
His heart. Does that mean what I think it does?
Reaching for my wine glass, I take a sip and then set it down while stroking the rim with my fingertips. Is this the opening I’ve been waiting for? We’ve been fucking for over a month now, on and off, and I need to know the truth before I read too much into what Cian is giving me.
“I have a question.”
“Shoot.” Cian sips his water.
“Are you still in love with me?”