Chapter 21
Lincoln
Four Years Ago
Cicero and I have watched her for years now, the two of us dancing around Quinnly and her more obnoxious qualities. She’s heading to North Carolina for something or another, and I’ve come to understand that whatever happens there, she always comes back in a sour mood and quarantines herself away.
I wonder if it has anything to do with her boss? Conall Hemlock and I haven’t crossed paths yet, but I know he and Cicero go way back.
My phone pings with a bid notification, and while I mostly ignore my phone during my time with Quinnly, the urge to check is strong. It’s been a while since I’ve booked a bid. Not because I haven’t had any offers, truly I’ve had more than I can handle, I’ve just had other priorities.
Here recently, Cicero’s been more active with Quinnly. I know he asked me to keep an eye on her, but really she needs twenty-four hour surveillance and it’s becoming difficult to manage without declining bids.
So, because I’m fucking obsessed, I choose Quinnly.
Every time.
My sister’s number flashes on my screen and I hold back my groan. She’s gotten herself into too many problems recently, and I’m sick of helping her out.
My nieces deserve better, and I’ve thought on more than one occasion of eliminating both my sister, and her ridiculous husband.
“I have a job offer for you,” Cicero says in that same gravely voice I swear I hear in my sleep sometimes.
My brows shoot up, this is… not what I expected. I was planning to follow Quinnly to North Carolina to keep eyes on her.
“Quinnly can take care of herself,” he begins, “of that I’m sure.”
I don’t say anything, despite the many questions burning in my brain. Letting him get whatever this is out, I observe.
“But, when I’m gone, she’s going to need someone to look after her.”
I nod, because she’ll definitely need that, and he has stated this before. Someone to clean up after her, although the FBI seems hellbent on fucking up.
“I’m offering you a lump sum,” sliding me a piece of paper, he nods to it.
My fingers skim the paper, it’s like any other paper, only this one has a number on it, and I’m willing to bet it’s a wild one. Cicero allows me time to unfold the small paper and marvel at the number written in his scrawl.
It’s… astronomical. Whoever says you can’t put a price on someone’s life hasn’t met Cicero Sage.
His gaze remains the same, as if the zero’s on this paper aren’t well into the nines.
“Cicero,” I start, because it’s clear it’s now my turn to talk. “I–”
There are no words, he should know I’d do this for free.
“Accept, or don’t,” he says standing from the small table we’re at. “You have a week to decide.”
He knows I can’t leave her alone, just like I know I’m going to accept.
Gravity Hill isn’t what I expected, it’s scenic and not like New York at all.
It’s a small town with its own version of royalty, and the Hemlocks are at the center of it.
When my sister called me out of the blue asking if I’d rescue her youngest daughter, Salem, I had no idea it would tie in with the Hemlocks.
I’ve studied them, Conall–the leader–a New York man through and through. His two sons, Mack and Creed.
Mack’s been a loner most of his life, doing whatever he needs to in the family business, while Creed’s been building a found family.
His friends–three men who've tragically lost their wives–live in his compound, along with their boys.
Here recently, things have changed. Creed has a wife, Fern, and the boys are all at college.
Though, I assume they’re home right now.
My niece doesn’t strike me as a girl who would willingly hang out with this family. Though I’ve been kept at arms length with her and her sister for most of their life, I still feel like I know her.
The house is just as big as pictures make it out to be. Along with the gate. It’s tall, wrought iron, swirled and curved into an intricate pattern. Walking up to the gate, I observe the locks and joints to pinpoint weaknesses.
“State your business,” Diego–I’m assuming, because he’s the tech brain–shouts from one of the speakers.
“I’m here for Salem,” I state plainly, I have no desire to play ‘who’s dick is bigger’.
When there’s no more noise over the speaker, I take it to mean they’re pretending I’m not here, or they’re sending someone out here to tell me to leave. I doubt anyone would pretend I’m going to go away. Especially knowing my sister and her husband.
My heart stalls in my chest as the front door opens and out pops none other than Quinnly herself. She skips down the driveway as if excited to see me, but that can’t be possible since she has no idea who I am.
“Hiya,” she says, sticking out her tongue and blowing a bubble of bright pink gum. “You’re quite large, aren’t cha?”
I forget to breathe, my lungs stop functioning, and my brain short-circuits. Quinnly’s standing in front of me, close enough if I wanted to, I could jump the fence and touch her. Her pale blue eyes are all over me, roaming and drinking me in.
I wish I knew what she was thinking, hell I’d settle for her to spit on me. Something, so I can verify this is really happening.
“You’re disappointed,” she sighs dramatically and looks back up toward the house. “I’m not sure who you expected, but I can tell I’m not them.”
“Salem,” I remind myself, finding my voice. “I’m here for my niece.”
“Look buddy,” she pauses and gives me the practiced smile she’s been perfecting over the years, “May I call you that? Salem’s not coming out here, and if you don’t leave… Well, I tend to get stabby.”
“Through a fence?” I ask, raising a brow.
“I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” she shrugs, stepping closer to the gate and wrapping her fingers around the metal. “What say you? Wanna play with me?”
“That does sound particularly appealing,” I smirk, holding back my smile when she notices my lip ring. “Until we meet again, Quinnly Adams.”
And I plan to meet her again one day, on my terms.