Chapter 11
Cora
“Get your fucking ass back in the house before I drag you in there.”
I ignore Clyde as he tears down his pristine driveway after me. Keys clutched tight, I march toward his SUV. My sneaker catches on a raised stone paver and I stumble, my hand smacking down on the driver door to catch myself, shocked he’s allowed an uneven stone to mar his perfect landscaping.
“You know there is no other choice,” I say over my shoulder, pressing the button to unlock the doors. The beep makes my pulse spike. “Either you take me or I’m stealing your car.”
“Goddammit, girl,” Clyde bellows, his long legs closing the distance between us. “Now is not the time to test me.”
I whirl around, slapping away his hand before he can grab me. We’ve wasted the entire morning hiding in separate rooms after we exhausted his stash of bullets. Doing nothing. We haven’t made a plan. Haven’t talked beyond his cryptic bullshit about killing Rune.
The only thing I know, thanks to Breaker, is that they plan to get close to Rune, posing as the Snyder Group, but even that’s been delayed thanks to Breaker’s fit of rage.
So, in the meantime, Reaper needs information. That is why I’m here.
“Now is the perfect time to keep me close to Rune,” I say.
“Back inside, Cora.” Clyde points toward his stark white monstrosity of a house. His jaw twitches, veins bulging at his temple. “I didn’t just stop myself from murdering that bastard so you could run back to him.”
When he lunges for the keys, I twist away, tucking them behind my back. Growling out my response. “I have to go to him, Clyde! I work for him. He—”
“He hurts you!” His roar hits me like a physical blow. I stumble back, my back pressing to the car door. Clyde’s eyes go wide, then he squeezes them shut, chest heaving.“He fucking hurts you, Cora.”
I slump against the car, my chest concaving. I can’t imagine what he must be feeling. Betrayed. Scared. Delly and I are the two things he goes completely insane over. I lost count of how many times he’s beaten the crap out of some random man who tried to date Delly.
He turns away, staring at his perfect landscaping, his gaze locked on the birds of paradise and skinny palms lining the driveway, before looking back at me. That dangerous gleam I saw earlier returns and he grates out, “You will never be alone with him again.”
I keep my tone flat, my shoulders stiffening. “If Rune suspects anything’s different, you’re dead.”
Clyde’s head drops back, afternoon sunlight catching the silver threading through his black hair. He looks so tired. Exhausted and weighed down with this new knowledge.
“You don’t have to like this, but I have to stay in Rune’s good graces,” I say. “He’s already suspicious that the men turned me against him. I need him to trust me. Reaper needs me close to him so I can—”
“Reaper?” His head snaps back down. “You’re fucking kidding?”
“No,” I say, placing my hands on my hips, the keys digging into my side. “You know damn well I’m the only one who can get access to anything Rune might have.”
His laugh is bitter. “Did you forget who’s been feeding Reaper intel for years?”
“Precisely.” I wrench the car door open. “All the more reason to keep his eyes off you and on me.”
Clyde’s fingers dig into my arm, yanking me backward. “You don’t know what he’s capable of, stupid girl.”
I snatch my arm away, my pulse jumps, becoming erratic and my cheeks heat.
How dare he? After finding me raped and battered on my floor, he really thinks I haven’t experienced Rune at his worst?
Stepping close, I get in his face, making sure he can see the fury in my eyes. “No?” I spit the word like venom, jabbing my finger into his chest. “I know exactly what Rune is capable of. I’m his punching bag, his fuck toy, his property.”
“You stupid girl.” Clyde’s laugh is bitter, almost cruel. “Rune is worse than you could ever imagine.”
“Worse than fucking me over his desk?” I hiss, the words sour in my mouth. “Worse than punching my face after he came in my mouth?”
Clyde shrinks back, blinking like he’s been hit in the gut, not just from the heaviness of my words but from the level of anger that I’ve reached.
“Rune is a fucking nightmare I’ve lived with day in and day out,” I say. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“He’s a sick monster, Cora. A murderer.”
“If only I could ask my mother about that,” I snap. “Oh right, I can’t. Because he killed her.”
Clyde takes a step back, his dark eyes scanning my face.
“Stop looking so shocked,” I say, climbing into the vehicle. I grab the handle, pulling the door shut but stop and say, “You have secrets, but so do I.”
He grabs the car door before I can close it, glaring at me. I narrow my eyes at him, mimicking his suspicious stare.
He drops his hand. “Zane told Breaker about your little deal.”
Of course, he did. Zane probably started crying the second Breaker showed up.
“My deal with Zane saved my ass,” I say. “At least I did something to stop the arrangement, unlike you.”
Low blow on my part, and it hits its mark. Clyde winces, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you know what your mother did?”
“Do you?” I ask.
His jaw tightens, and he looks down at his feet. My heart sinks. Of course Clyde knows what my mother did. He may have been the one to kill her on Rune’s order.
“Fine,” he rumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll take you to Rune. You can get your fucking intel for Reaper so you can report back to that psycho—”
“Don’t you dare say anything about him.” I lean forward, pointing in his face. “He is not the enemy.”
His jaw tightens, lips thinning like he’s holding back everything he really wants to say, then grips my arm and yanks me out of the car.
“Get in the passenger seat,” he says. “You’re a shit driver, so I’m taking the wheel.”
He climbs in and slams the door. I stalk over to the passenger side and climb in, slamming the door a tad too hard.
He glares at me, then jabs at the button to start the engine and throws the car into drive. “Don’t think for a minute he won’t sacrifice you to save himself because he will.”
Keeping my focus on the gates ahead, I wonder if he means Reaper or Rune.
***
Clyde keeps his eyes on the rearview more than the road, making me think I’m actually the better driver.
“The road is in front of us,” I point out, checking my seat belt for the fifth time. “Whiplash isn’t on my to-do-list so please don’t rear-end the car in front of us.”
Clyde glances at the road, then back to the rearview. “We’re being followed.”
My pulse jumps, and I twist in my seat, scanning the sea of cars behind us. “Which one?”
“The Ferrari,” he says.
“We live in Miami, Clyde,” I say, exasperated. “That narrows it down to half the cars in this city.”
“The Purosangue.”
“Please be more vague. I love it,” I say.
Clyde casts me a dry look. “All black. Three cars back. Center lane.”
I scan the lanes again and my stomach drops when I spot it. “Rune?”
“Not sure,” he says, cutting into the center lane. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Especially after…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
“But I don’t think so,” Clyde says after a minute. “Like you said, he’s too paranoid to hire an outsider. Especially on short notice.”
“Zane?” I ask, because yeah, I have that man to deal with too and I wouldn't put it past him to have us followed.
“Fuck.” Clyde inches his car between the two in the next lane. Horns blast around us. “That’s entirely possible.”
“Do tails usually drive such conspicuous cars?” I ask, looking over my shoulder out the back window. “You’d think they’d want to be a bit more discreet.”
“You’d think,” Clyde says, leaning forward to show his middle finger to the car next to us as the driver leans on his horn. “So I’m going to find out.”
“Road rage is a thing,” I remind him as he forces our vehicle into his lane.
Clyde flips off another driver who blares his horn at us. My stomach knots as he steers us into the next lane, then suddenly swerves, barely catching the exit. My stomach dips, and I twist and watch as the Ferrari zooms past, missing the ramp.
“Well, you lost them,” I mutter, settling back in my seat as he drives into the heart of downtown, where the interstate and crossroads thread through the city like a spiderweb. Clyde steers us west, away from Rune’s house, and I glance his way. “Where are we going?”
“Toward the next exit,” Clyde says, cutting onto a street that weaves along the river snaking through the city. “I want to talk to this motherfucker.”
“Lovely,” I say, shifting in my seat. “I’ve always wanted to interrogate someone.”
My shoulder hits the door as Clyde takes another sharp turn, and drives us down a road lined with several skyscrapers in various states of construction, jutting up between small buildings. Many are just hollow concrete shells with exposed rebar reminding me of skeletons.
Clyde takes another turn, too fast, and I slam into the door again.
My heart picks up pace, but I take a deep breath to ease the tension in my muscles.
His tense jaw and rigid posture make me nervous.
Not that I’ve never seen Clyde furious, but I’ve never witnessed him in action.
Knowing Clyde kills people, and seeing it are two different things.
Ever since I watched Reaper shoot Manuel, I would like to avoid being present during a murder.
And right now Clyde looks murderous.
“And what means of interrogation are we going to use?” I ask, pressing the lock button on the door. “Waterboarding? Or maybe–”
As Clyde takes the next turn, the roar of the engine hits my ears before I see it.
Tires squeal as the same black car from the interstate tears around the corner, fishtailing before it rights itself in the lane in front of us.
Clyde curses and slams on the brakes. I lurch forward, the seat belt digging into my collarbone as he puts the SUV into reverse.
Cars behind us blare their horns. Clyde twists in his seat, using my headrest to look over his shoulder, and my stomach drops as we fly backward.
“Move, goddammit!” he shouts. “Get the fuck out of my way!”
More cars honk, their blasting horns making my heart race. My scream gets lodged in my throat as the Ferrari speeds down the street, weaving between cars and lanes with precision.
Clyde jerks the wheel, narrowly missing a sedan.
“Move!” he barks, whipping us backward into a construction site lot.
He whips the SUV around, and my brain jostles, concrete dust billowing in a gray cloud behind us as he slams the car into drive and hits the gas.
The tires scream, rocks spitting out, as they fight for purchase, then we shoot forward.
I grab the dashboard, looking behind us, my blood rushing to my head, as the Ferrari flies into the lot behind us. The engine revs then it speeds forward.
“Clyde,” I say, dragging out his name as I watch in horror as the car closes the distance.
“Hush,” he hisses, yanking the wheel to round the large building. He stomps on the brake, and I pitch forward. His arm lashes out and catches me just as my seatbelt digs into my chest, keeping me locked in place.
My scream rips free. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Stay here!” Clyde shoves the door open, drawing his gun from the holster at his back just as the black car slams on its brakes, circling us and stopping abruptly, bumper to bumper.
“Clyde,” I say, keeping my eyes on the car. “What is happening?”
“Stay put, Cora!” he screams at me, his eyes locked on the sleek car, gun aimed, finger on the trigger. He sidesteps, moving away from the SUV.
My chest heaves, and I grip my seat belt, shrinking down in my seat. I may be accustomed to Rune and violence, but holy shit, I’ve never been in a fucking car chase.
“Step out carefully,” Clyde snarls. “I have no problem unloading my clip into your head if you so much as blink too fast.”
The passenger door swings open. A hand reaches out and grips the doorframe. His bald head and stormy eyes come into view, and a knot forms in my stomach.
Clyde lowers the gun. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Breaker?”
I exhale as I unbuckle then slam the door open, and tumble onto the asphalt, gaze pinned on him across the hood of the cars.
Breaker’s winter gaze locks on me and I grip the doorframe to stay upright. Something dark, angry, and volatile flashes over his features.
“Little Red,” he says.
That’s all he says.
“You scared the shit out of me.” Clyde shoves his pistol back in his holster. “Why are you driving like a lunatic?”
“You know I have no control over him,” Breaker says, his voice deadly calm.
My stomach drops.
Wait.
He’s not the one driving.
The driver’s side door opens, and a black leather combat boot hits the pavement.
My heart leaps into my throat. One large, fair-skinned hand slaps down on the top of the car door and a head with wavy auburn hair pops up, followed by massive shoulders and chest wrapped in a black t-shirt.
He leans his forearm on the roof of the car, a smile cutting across his face.
My heart stutters.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Oh, good.” Clyde snorts. “Another one of you assholes to contend with.”
“That was the plan all along,” Breaker says. “Several assholes to contend with.”
I don’t hear Clyde’s response. All I can focus on is him.
My chin quivers. I swipe at my cheeks with both hands, unable to control the trembling in my shoulders.
He’s here.
He came.
Like he promised.
“Hey, pretty Vixen,” Viper says, a feral smirk playing on his lips. That grin turns hard as he steps back and swings open the little back door, then gestures to the interior of the car. Somehow, he looks bigger with his mask off. Meaner. Sexier. “Get in the car. Now.”