Chapter 23
Cora
“Ithink a semi-automatic is my second favorite thing to hold,” I say, adjusting my aim. When Clyde doesn’t respond, I lower the weapon and glance at him. “The first favorite thing I like to hold being co—”
“I fucking get it,” Clyde snaps, adjusting his earmuffs before he aims.
“Cocks,” I yell, just to make sure he can hear me. “I meant cocks, old man.”
Clyde unloads a few rounds into his target, then lowers his weapon, and gestures to me.
I grin at his dry expression, and readjust my aim.
Releasing a slow, steady breath, I pull the trigger.
Bullets spray from the barrel in bursts, making my heart flutter as the target ripples, each shot landing near center.
Satisfaction gathers in my belly when I place the rifle down and catch Clyde’s approving grin.
I remove my earmuffs and set them on the table next to the gun.
We’ve been practicing all day, and my arms ache.
Hell, we’ve been practicing all week, every minute of the day, from nearly sunup to sundown.
I’ve not been allowed to go to the office, much less be anywhere near Rune, so I have zero information on his activities.
But, Clyde has kept me busy, bringing me to his lair every day, saying it’s good enough for now since I can’t gather intel.
My aim has improved, not that I was bad to begin with, and reloading now feels fluid and smooth.
Not that all this will do me any good. It’s not like I can stuff a semi-automatic into my purse before leaving for work to keep Rune at bay, but that little Glock 43 might work. If Clyde would ever let me leave his house, that is.
Picking up the Glock, I remove the magazine and reload, snapping it in place and taking aim, but not firing. I feel Clyde’s eyes on me, feel the words he’s not speaking. The same words that have floated in the air all week. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t know.
Silently, I tell him back, It’s not your fault. I hid it from you. I wanted to protect you too. I wish you had never found out because the haunted look in your eyes kills me every time you look my way.
I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the pain settling there. “When is the meeting again?” I ask, keeping all those thoughts and silent wishes to myself. “The one—”
“It’s a simple meet and greet, and you’re not going,” Clyde interrupts. “We’ve already established—”
“I’m not going,” I agree. “I’m going to Rune’s house while you attend.”
“No,” Clyde says. “This is just a meeting with a potential client, and you—”
“Can’t hide forever,” I finish, raising a brow. “Rune will get suspicious if you stay hidden with me in your secret villain lair—”
“For fuck’s sake, girl, it’s not a lair or a secret and I—”
“And you look like you’re trying to keep me away from him—”
“I am.”
“And”—I lean forward, tapping my finger to his chin, which earns me a deadly scowl—“if you keep avoiding him, he’ll get paranoid. And a paranoid Rune means he’ll think I said something to you. Which means we’re both dead.”
Clyde stalks away, not answering as he hits a button to slide the target toward us. He knows I’m right. We’ve had this conversation so many times this week, it’s redundant and silly at this point.
“I’m too busy protecting you from his enemies to be at his beck and call,” Clyde says as he tugs the target close enough to change it out. He slaps mine down on the table before me. “Remember, he thinks one of them fucked up Zane.”
“I mean, they did.” I pick up my target, pointing to the center circle riddled with holes. “Look who’s a natural badass?”
Ignoring me, Clyde takes my target and sets it aside. “I’m not going to the meeting. Rune can talk to new clients without me.”
I point to myself since he’s obviously ignoring me. “It’s me. I’m the badass. You said so yourself.”
“I said no such thing.” He reloads his gun, snapping the clip in place with a smack of his palm. “Furthermore, the only way I’m letting you out of my sight is if one of them is around.”
One of them. Viper or Breaker. My stomach does a weird flip, thinking of Viper. It’s been a week since we’ve heard anything from them, but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about them. About him.
His everything.
And the fact that he may know exactly what my mother did.
I take a deep breath, shoving the thoughts away and refocusing on the target as Clyde slides it back into place. “Furthermore?” I say, glancing his way. “Okay, Poe.”
“It was ‘nevermore’,” he says, placing his handgun down and picking up the automatic I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, and snaps a magazine into place. “Poe said nevermore, not furthermore.”
“Whatever.” I slide my earmuffs back over my ears and yell, “Regardless of who said what, you’re going to that meeting, and I’m going to Rune’s house while you do.”
I don’t hear his response over the sound of the bullets spraying from my gun and hitting the target dead center.
***
One of my best qualities is discretion. Rune can attest to that. I’m great at keeping secrets, lying, and covering up sins. I’m also great at keeping my activities hidden. Now that I know Rune is tracking me via my phone, I turn it off after I climb into the taxi.
When the taxi drops me off a few cars down from the side gate, I hand him a hundred and tell him to wait for twenty minutes and I’ll be back.
Instead of going to the front gate, I enter the property through the service entrance.
Clyde adjusted the camera angles in a way he promises will keep me from being seen, but there is still the issue of the alarm.
Rune’s security system will notify him that someone has disabled the alarm, so, I use the staff code to enter the gate, then take the long dark driveway up to the garage set back from the house where Rune’s driver, Conner, lives in the apartment above.
From there I walk up the path leading to the back of the house and use the staff code.
Usually, he drops Rune off and if the meeting takes a while, like it should today, he will run errands for him rather than waste time sitting outside.
Rune hates waste. And people in his home when he’s gone.
Which is exactly why I use his code. When Rune gets the alert that a staff member is on the premises, his first thought will be Conner.
And I honestly don’t care if Rune takes his paranoia out on him.
He’s worked for Rune for years. Seen my battered body, seen my bruises, taken me back and forth at odd hours, so should he get a bullet to the head, I won’t cry about it.
He knows who he works for.
Then again, so do I, but I was never given a choice. Conner was.
The alarm beeps as it disarms, and I shove the kitchen door open and tiptoe inside, even though I know no one is here. With no staff left, the house is empty.
When I see the state of the kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks. I scan the large open space, taking in the stack of dirty dishes lined up along the counter, the food left out, the takeout cartons on the center island. With no one here to tend to him, Rune is falling apart.
An odd twinge squeezes my heart. I never thought about how much I pity him. And confusing pity with affection is dangerous. Worse than mixing up potential with the reality of who a person is at their core.
Rune is a murderer. A rapist. A thief. He’s every bad thing you could cram into a person. But he was also my caretaker. My second father in many ways. My champion when the girls at school dared pick on me. And all that affection is now tangled up with fear. He cared for me yet…
He didn’t.
I shake my head, trying to keep the thoughts from taking root. You can’t be a savior and a monster. Not unless he was being the monster to save me, and he never once was.
Breaker was. He was a brute force. He was the villain, and he did it for me. Maybe for a little of his pleasure too, but he did it for me. And I know, down to my bones, he would never hurt me. He’d set himself on fire before he did. And Viper.
Viper.
Reaper. Striker. Delly.
Delly.
I shoot forward, stalking down the hall towards Rune’s office. I’m here for one purpose, and that’s digging into as many of Rune’s secrets as possible while he’s distracted.
At his office door, I look over my shoulder, my skin pricking. Even though I know there is no one here, I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched.
Thinking back, I don’t know if I’ve ever been alone in this house. There was always staff—Clyde, house cleaners, Claudia baking in the kitchen, that weird guy who did the yardwork—or security guards positioned around even when Rune wasn’t home. Growing up, Delly and I were never alone.
My nerves skitter as I shut the office door behind me.
I glance around the room trying to figure out where to start.
Rune left the small table lamp on his desk on, washing the large office in a buttery glow, and giving off just enough light to make out the stack of papers on his desk.
I go for them first, since I know they must have come straight from the office.
Not having his two chief accountants means that he’s having to rely on our office staff to crunch numbers, which leaves him open to scrutiny.
I’m surprised he even agreed to meet a potential client for another sale today since he doesn’t have Delly and me there.
Then again, Rune has to keep up appearances.
God forbid anyone found out his daughter and adopted daughter were taken and held for weeks. No doubt the few staff there that day, the media, and the police were paid off, and given subtle threats of what would happen should they talk. Especially once he realized who took us.