17. Cian
Cian
D ays later, I felt as if I were drowning in blood.
I knew how hard it was going to be. I’d thought I was prepared.
But that was before I had allowed myself to feel another emotion in my life besides the need for revenge.
Before I fell in love with a cranky, name-calling girl named Skylar.
Now, everything was harder.
I was two people, inhabiting the body of one.
Tony, the killer who’d thought nothing this morning of pulling his gun and shooting a man who had the audacity to question Orson’s leadership, after yet another shipment of drugs and their carrier seemed to vanish into thin air.
My gun was out and he was dead before I even blinked. I tucked the gun away, picked up the coffee I was drinking, and carried on as if nothing had happened.
Orson looked over his desk. “Clean that up, Rex. I hate garbage in my office.”
I left the office, strolling down the hall nonchalantly after muttering about needing a sandwich.
I slipped outside, disappearing from their prying eyes and ears.
Cian reappeared, heaving and gasping into the bushes, my body shaking, praying for this to be over.
Sean found me a short time later, sitting on the ground, my head in my hands.
“Two more days,” he stated. “I have it all programmed for two days. Can you make it?”
I nodded.
He leaned forward, grabbing my arm. “Are you sure? Your nightmares are bad. Really bad. I’m worried.”
I knew they were. I’d wake up sweating and shaking, my throat dry with fear. Sean had started sleeping in my room, waking me up before I began shouting out in my sleep and blowing my cover. He looked as exhausted as I felt.
“I have to see it through. I have to.”
Sean’s voice was low and serious. “I need you to come out of this in one piece. I know you have an agenda, but you need to understand I do as well. I will pull this whole fucking operation and kill him myself if I have to. I’d fucking kill them all before I lost you.”
“I can do this. It’s almost done.” I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Any word about our, ah, animal problem?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Nothing?”
He kicked at a lump in the snow, cursing. “I shouldn’t have shown you that message. I thought her name-calling would make you laugh, not send you over the edge. I’m sure she’s resting.”
“For two days?” I tugged on my hair.
“Stop worrying.”
“Worried?” I hissed. “I’m beyond worried. I’m fucking frantic.”
Two days ago, Sean had handed me the phone.
I’d grabbed it, pressing play. Skylar appeared, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She was dressed in my sweatshirt and wrapped in a blanket.
Her nose was bright red and her eyes watery.
She smiled and waved. “Got a cold, fuckwit. I bet you gave it to me with your cooties. Thanks.”
She sneezed and reached for a tissue, blowing her nose loudly. “You could have left some chicken soup somewhere.” Then her voice dropped. “Be safe. I miss you.” She stood and walked away from the camera, the sound of her coughing fading away as she left the room. She looked terrible.
She hadn’t sent another message, and I was going crazy with worry.
I let my head fall back against the cold tree trunk. “How do we know she’s not worse?”
“She’s a smart girl. If she were, she’d tell us. Knowing Ms. Independent, she’s sleeping and looking after herself. It’s not like she left a message every day before now.”
“Did you try calling?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I actually did when I was away earlier. It went to voice mail, so I’m sure she has it off while she sleeps. She probably wouldn’t have answered anyway—it wasn’t from one of the regular numbers. You told her not to answer unless it was, and I didn’t have your phone with me.”
I snorted. “Because she always does what I tell her to do. Maybe she’s even sicker and couldn’t answer.” I couldn’t stop my anxious twitches. I pulled on my hair, grabbed the back of my neck. “I have to know she’s okay.”
It had been over a week since I’d last seen Skylar.
Long, hard days of slowly losing myself in the violence that surrounded me constantly—days of darkness and a carefully maintained facade of indifference and disconnection—days of missing her.
Restless nights with little to no sleep.
The few hours I managed to keep my eyes shut, the images were so horrendous, I woke up panicked, my heart racing.
Add in the worry I was feeling…I was losing it.
Sean surprised me when he nodded. “I have to admit, I’m worried.”
“Can you go check on her?”
He thought it over, rubbing his fingers along his chin. “I could. But I have a better idea.”
“Which is?”
“You go.”
I wanted that. I wanted to go and see her. Make sure she was okay. But it was impossible at this point—wasn’t it?
“But Orson…” I protested.
“Give me a minute.” Sean groaned and stood, pacing. I didn’t say anything as I watched him, knowing his mind was busy working out details.
He hunched down in front of me, his voice firm.
“Okay, I’ll make some arrangements. Once I do, we’re going back in there, and you’re going to pick a fight with me and then storm out to your favorite club.
I’ll get our guy to meet you there. I’ll sit in on the card game Orson has planned and bitch about you for a few hours.
You can go check on her, and then you come straight back.
A short visit—no overnight stay. We got away with that once, but it won’t work again. ”
I didn’t argue. A couple of hours with her was better than nothing. I could make sure she was okay, and then I could concentrate on this shit again. Seeing her would help bring everything back into focus.
“Why are you doing this, Sean? You wanted me to send her away.”
He pursed his lips. “When your father died, you shut off a part of your heart, Cian. You never allowed anyone to get close. You even kept me and Julia at arm’s length. You used sex as a release, never feeling much of anything for your partners.”
I frowned at him, shifting uncomfortably. Everything he said was true, but it was still difficult to hear.
“Skylar brought something out in you. She was the first thing you fought for. The one thing that seemed to take priority over the revenge you’d sought for so many years.
She also seemed to bring you focus in your life, like nothing else could.
I realized keeping her close kept you calmer.
So, I might not have agreed with it, but I know it’s what has gotten you through this. ”
“It has.”
“She’s done something else.”
“What?”
He leaned forward, his voice low. “Did you not think I noticed, Cian? Noticed what you were doing? Your plans?”
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Every time you spoke of the future, everything you did—making sure Harper was looked after, that Julia and I were taken care of—you never included yourself. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?
You fucking took yourself out of the picture.
Every. Single. Time. You didn’t plan on coming out of this alive. You didn’t care.”
“It wasn’t like that?—”
He held up his hand. “It was exactly like that. You made sure we were going to be okay. But your future…you didn’t plan it.
Until Skylar entered your life. You suddenly began thinking of a future with her.
A life with her. She did that. And that’s why I let you keep her close. Because she is your reason.”
He stood. “So you can go to her this one last time.” He drew in a deep breath. “On one condition,” he added.
“What’s the catch?”
“She disappears tomorrow.”
I clenched my hands, but I knew it was time.
“You’ll send Julia to get her?”
He shook his head. “Julia is too far away now. Frank will get her.”
“Frank knows?” I hissed. I hadn’t breathed a word about Skylar to Frank.
“Yes. You aren’t thinking clearly. I told him. He’ll go get her tomorrow and take her to Julia. She’ll be safe until this is over. You get your head back in the game one hundred percent. You’re Tony. I don’t want to see Cian until that fucker is in handcuffs or dead. You understand?”
He was right. I should have let her go before now, but I had been selfish. If she was with Julia, she’d be looked after and safe and I’d relax. I’d see her as soon as I finished what I started. I was still rather pissed over him telling Frank, though.
I nodded curtly. “Done.”
I pushed Carlo hard, shoving him into the wall. “I told you to shut your fucking mouth!”
“Can’t handle the truth, Tony?”
“If I want your opinion, I’ll tell you what it is.”
He arched his eyebrow, his silent signal for me to step it up. “Fuck you,” he drawled.
I drew back my fist and slammed it into his stomach.
His gasp of pain was real, even though I hadn’t put as much force behind it as I normally would have.
We had an audience and I knew it had to look real, and I was still smarting over the Frank thing, so I did give it to him a little harder than I actually had to.
He slid down the wall, gasping for air. Leaning down, I grabbed his hair, lifting his head roughly.
“You’re lucky I don’t kill you right now, old man. ”
He snarled up at me. “You don’t have the balls.”
My gun was pressed to his head fast. “You want to find out?”
Orson stepped forward, his tone placating. “Now, Anthony, think before you pull that trigger. I’m sure Carlo didn’t mean to insult you.”
I stood, breathing heavily, making sure I looked every bit as pissed off as I could.
We had started our “argument” outside, making sure it got louder as we moved farther into the house.
We started shoving each other around, cursing in Italian and English over Carlo’s supposed lack of respect and an imaginary infraction.
It was loud and angry enough to draw Orson and Rex into the hall, which was exactly what we wanted.
I kicked at him, making sure my foot glanced off his thigh, more moving his leg than actually hurting him. “I’m sick of your face.”