Chapter 25
Viper
Inever thought I’d be sick of looking at Breaker’s face, but after a week of being stuck by his side day in and day out, I’m ready to shove him over the side of this high-rise.
Instead of sitting in this chair, in this restaurant, atop this overpriced hotel, eating miniature portions of food on stark white plates drizzled in colorful sauces, I want to be doing something.
Taking action. But we’re stuck in limbo. Waiting.
On Zane-fucking-Devin to get back to us on our offer.
In the last week, we’ve had no contact with Reap and only a few encrypted messages from Clyde that told us Cora is fine and returning to work today.
Knowing Cora entered that building, knowing Rune was going to be near her, going to possibly touch her, has my insides boiling hot as lava.
On top of that, the mission has begun, which means there is zero room for error.
We were forced to leave the warehouse, and Ben left the hotel, to move into the private estate the Snyder Group rented for this mission.
That means we left all our equipment and surveillance behind, and we can’t risk returning.
Now we don’t have eyes on Cora, and after what Rune did, it’s leaving us both on edge.
Well, me.
Breaker seems to have an absurd amount of confidence in Clyde that I don’t possess. Then again, he believed Cora’s obvious lie that Rune hadn’t violated her. Maybe it’s easier for Breaker to cope if he just refuses to see this entire situation for what it is.
A fucking nightmare.
We’re so ill-prepared, it’s laughable.
To think we spent four years planning this and now that I’m in the middle of it, it feels like a lifetime wouldn’t have been enough to prepare us for the level of depravity we’re infiltrating.
“We’ve been here a week, sent Rune the offer, and crickets,” I say.
“Taste,” Breaker says, ignoring me as he leans across the table to drop a forkful of a weirdly cut vegetable onto my plate. I meet his gaze, and that old, familiar zing shoots through me.
He’s dressed like Ben, in slacks and loafers and a white shirt open at the collar to show his smooth chest and the bold black tattoos.
A gold ring adorns his pinky, and a thin chain hangs around his neck, contrasting with his dark skin.
The man is so dangerously sexy it would be distracting if I wasn’t used to being around him.
And I didn’t want to throttle him.
He points with his fork at the food. “Try it. You’ll like it.”
I glare at him across the tabletop laden with various dishes, resentful of how he can act so normal when we are anything but. “I don’t want it.”
“Stop being a child,” he says, “and just try it.”
Behind me, shrill laughter scrapes across my brain. The urge to turn around and stab my fork through the offender’s neck makes me jab at the vegetable a little too forcefully, and my fork clinks loudly on the plate. The two people at the table next to us glance our way. I smile.
Breaker rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat as he sips his water.
It was his idea to come here for dinner, so it’s his fault that I’m forced to sit still and act polite, which right now I’m incapable of.
This entire week has been his idea, so I blame him for my mood.
It has sunk to the depths of hell. He’s dragged me around town for seven days, hitting up all the trendy hot spots, letting my presence be known as we wait for an invitation to meet with Zane. One that has yet to come.
Not that Zane is fully functional. I know from experience stab wounds hurt like a bitch, compounded by the fact his fingers are broken and it’s all on one hand? Zane is probably high as a kite right now.
And more than likely furious.
And a furious Zane is a dangerous Zane.
“—that place with the neon flamingo out front,” Breaker is saying.
I quirk a brow at him and shove the bite into my mouth ungracefully, chewing loudly. He frowns, watching me stab another piece of colorful food on my plate and shovel it into my mouth. Various flavors, sharp and savory, explode on my tongue and I slow down my aggressive chewing.
“Okay, fine,” I say around a mouthful, “it’s good.”
Reaper would love this place and all this ridiculous food.
“Why are you acting like this?” Breaker asks, eyes bouncing around the restaurant like he’s checking to see if anyone is watching. They are. I’m being terrible, even by my standards. His gaze lands on me, and irritation flashes across his face. “Did I piss you off somehow?”
“Where do I begin?” I ask. “First you nearly destroy everything by flying off the handle, then you meet with him before we’re ready, then you drag me around this fucking nightmare of a city like we’re a married couple on vacation.”
A bark of laughter bursts out of him, and the tension in my shoulders eases. We’re not used to this. Being so… normal.
Yes, we spent years moving in Rune’s circle, attending functions, even a few sex parties that left even me feeling a tad scandalized, all designed to grab Rune’s attention.
But mostly, we’ve lived a quiet life, moving between missions with little to no contact with any other people outside of hotel attendants and the unfortunate targets we collected or disposed of.
And in the last four years, we’ve barely had any missions.
Most of our time was spent watching Delilah and Cora, trying to gain insight into Rune’s daily life.
Any time we ventured to a function in Rune’s circle, we did it as a group, with Reaper in the background feeding us info. Even those felt like a mission.
This feels like I’m roleplaying, which I am, but I never expected it to be so boring.
So claustrophobic, wearing Vince’s suit all the time.
It doesn’t help that I don't like the guy. Vince, me, is a total cunt. I’m loud and brazen, flat-out rude, and flirts with anybody who looks my way. And it’s rumored I have a mean streak.
I mean, it’s all true, but I at least control myself.
Vince doesn’t. He’s an absolute nightmare of a person.
Ben, on the other hand? He’s sexy and mysterious and, fuck me if Breaker doesn’t fit his role perfectly.
“We don’t have to go to the club,” Breaker says. “I only brought it up because Dave Sobian is a regular and we may run into him.”
“Fuck,” I grate, setting my fork down. I hate it when he’s right. “Fine. We can go to that club with neon lights and the—”
“Paradis,” he says. “It means paradise in Fr—”
“I know,” I snap, then lean forward to say, quietly, “We can go to the fucking club, but if we leave without seeing that twat, David, you have to suck my dick when we get back to the house.”
Breaker’s expression flattens, telling me I’m pushing him a tad too far, but I can’t help myself.
We’ve never been alone this long. I’m not sure either of us knows how to handle not only the things that have been unlocked since we got our girls, us being so open, but also how to handle no one else around. There are eyes everywhere.
I toss my napkin onto the plate and push the chair back.
It screams across the shiny gray stone floor.
The people at the table next to us look my way, the small woman with bright red lips looking me up and down.
Seems if people find you attractive, you can walk through life acting like a total douchebag and they don’t care.
“Come on,” I tell Breaker. “Let’s get this over with so we can go back to the house and fuck.”
The woman chokes on her bite. I give her a wink as I walk past, heading for the elevator.
***
The club pulses with energy. It’s smaller than most of Rune’s clubs, making the place feel packed with too many bodies. Breaker motions to the cocktail waitress assigned to us and orders another round, even though we have an open bottle of champagne sitting on ice in front of us.
Breaker loves this shit. Expensive food, pretty things, edgy clubs and parties.
While I enjoy it, the constant noise and pettiness of this life grates on me after a while.
I’d rather be home, fixing up our house, getting my hands dirty.
Or traveling and experiencing new places.
That’s part of why I never complained about moving from one mission to the next with only hours in between sometimes.
I even enjoyed infiltrating Rune’s circle. The pure rush of knowing we were getting one over on that sick fuck makes my blood sing. But now so much is at stake. I just want to be home. Away from it all.
I just want quiet. Mostly, I want our girls and all of us together.
“He’s here,” Breaker says, nudging my shoulder. I follow his gaze to the seating area near ours, and my eyes land on him. Purple flashing lights cast the club in an electric glow and turn his dark suit a bright neon. “Wait for him to come to us.”
“I know how to play the game,” I say, widening my legs, taking up more space on the couch as I toss my arm on the back. Like he can feel our presence, Dave’s eyes move in our direction. Fucking finally. “When he comes over, let me do the talking.”
“Fine by me,” Breaker says, raising his drink in a silent greeting as Dave raises a hand. “We both know you’re better at this than I am.”
Pretending he means. Funny. I’m not really pretending. I give zero fucks about this guy. Actually, I can’t wait to take him out. He’s a pompous ass, worse than Vince, aka me, and the only thing he’s loyal to is Rune’s money and how well it lines his pocket.
He had the absolute nerve to date Delilah, even when she was so out of his league it was comical.
Then he didn’t even give her a proper wedding.
He just took her to the courthouse. The day they got married, Reaper nearly had a stroke.
He paced a path on the top floor of the warehouse for hours and at one point, it took all of us to convince him not to march into the courthouse and murder Dave.
Accidents happen, he’d said.
It will upset her, Striker had reminded him.
He’s a sick bastard, Reaper muttered and continued his pacing.
That he is. Dave doesn’t partake in Rune’s hunts, not entirely, but he attends them, keeping the attendees entertained with drugs, prostitutes, and sick games, knowing full well what happens.
He turns a blind eye, cashes his paycheck, and had the nerve to cheat on one of two of the most beautiful women this world has ever seen.
The fucker needs to go.
And I’ll gladly take him out.
Right as the thought passes through my mind, Dave stands and works his way through the small seating area until he’s right in front of us. He leans forward, offering a hand to Breaker first.
Not that I’m surprised. People tend to see Breaker and nothing else. When they see me, it’s one of two reactions. Fear or lust. Sometimes both.
“Ben Snyder,” he says, raising his voice to be heard above the pulsing music. “Nice to see you again.”
Breaker leans forward, lifting his ass off the couch just enough to be respectful, and shakes Dave’s hand. Dave’s eyes land on me, and he quirks a brow as he extends his hand.
“And you must be…” His voice trails off, waiting for me to fill in the blank. I don’t. He knows exactly who I am. After an awkward few seconds, he says, “Vincent Campbell, right? Ben’s partner in crime?”
I let his words hang in the air for a few heartbeats, then adjust my legs, widening them even more. When I don’t take his hand, he lets it fall to his side.
Dave isn’t a bad looking man. He’s classically handsome, each feature a little too sharp, like a hawk.
A little sleazy. Perfect lawyer material.
I let my gaze trail over him. He squirms a tad which should give me pleasure, but it just scalds my insides.
He’s a fucking weasel, undeserving of the memories he has of our girl.
He knows what Delilah tastes like. The sweet, slightly lavender scent of her hair. The sounds she makes when she comes.
I should stab his eyes out for holding that knowledge. Shove a knife into his ear for ever hearing her pretty whimpers.
He clears his throat when I don’t answer and Breaker says, “One of them. Steele will be here in a few weeks.”
Steele. Striker. He shouldn’t have been allowed to pick his name.
“Right,” Dave says, glancing over his shoulder to the group of women he left. “Zane told me you sent an offer to Rune’s office. He’s going to contact you soon.”
“The offer was sent a week ago,” I say, leaning slightly into my accent. “It has an expiration date.”
Dave winces at my tone. I make sure it’s sharp. Impatient. Exactly how I feel.
“He had a bit of a delay,” Dave says. “But he’ll be in contact soon.”
“Twenty–four hours,” I say.
Dave nods, casting another look over his shoulder. God. The lack of respect. Rune and his minions really believe they are above everyone.
I stand, adjusting my slacks, pinning Dave with a glare. He shrinks back. “Tell Rune if he wants to do business with us, I expect someone other than his lawyer.” I lean in, towering over him. “And some respect.”
Dave glances at Breaker, like he’s expecting him to say something, to be polite, but he stands, giving a flash of a smile, and Dave takes another step back.
If Rune sent his lawyer to give us a message, it means he isn’t taking us, our deal, or the weapons we provided him with, seriously.
That means he may not follow through with the invitation.
We still have to prove we are who we say we are.
We still have to pass his initiation.
Failure isn’t an option.
Looks like Vince will have to put on a show.