Chapter 83 Cole
EIGHTY-THREE
COLE
“What did he say?” I demanded, storming over to Enzo as he hung up the phone, frowning. “Dmitri is good at getting into places. I know that fucker has answers.”
“It wasn’t Dmitri,” Enzo said, looking over at me. “It was Jake.”
“Jake? What did he say?” I pressed. We’d been trying for a week to figure out who Rosalie was seeing. I meant when I said I’d kill the fucker once I got a name. I knew it was insane, but fuck. She was my girl.
“Well, two things. One, another warehouse is on fire.” Enzo rubbed his eyes.
This was the fourth one in a month. We were both banking on Kurt doing it to fuck with us.
In addition to that, a fuck ton of Russian bratva were turning up dead, and it wasn’t us doing it.
Rumor had it that they were nailed to various pieces of wood around the city and tacked up on walls and shit.
The Carpenter.
I shivered at the thought of how pissed Kurt—Santino— had to be to be making waves like this.
There wasn’t a soul who could tell me it was anyone else, either. Enzo had made several attempts to talk to him, but his number had changed, and he seemed unreachable.
“Great,” I muttered. “What’s the second thing?”
Enzo looked away from me and back to the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the apartment.
“The man Rosalie was with the night she slashed the tires.”
“Yeah?” I stepped forward, my heart pumping hard.
Enzo shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it.”
“You’re fucking killing me here. Who is it? It was fucking Anson. I’ll kill that motherfucker—” I paced the room, tugging at my hair, imagining various ways to take him out of this world.
“Cole, it was Klaus Seeley.”
I stopped in my tracks, unsure if I had heard him correctly. “What?”
“Klaus Seeley. That’s who she was with that night.”
My mouth felt like I’d been sucking on a cottonball. There was no fucking way Klaus Seeley was the man she was seeing.
“I don’t believe that for a fucking minute,” I snarled. “She wouldn’t fuck him. He’s, what? Like forty? He’s twice her fucking age. That’s some Matteo bullshit right there. No. She’s not fucking him. I refuse to believe that. He’s a fucking enemy, Enzo. She-She wouldn’t.”
Enzo nodded. “I certainly hope not.”
“Call Anson,” I said, hating the words. “He’d know, right? I mean, she’s close with him, and he’s in bed with Matteo. He’d be able to tell us.”
Enzo shook his head. “No. Let it go.”
“What the fuck do you mean let it go? That’s our girl! Some piece of shit has his hands on her. His cock inside her, Enzo. How the fuck can you just sit back and say let it go? What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means it’s over!” he snapped, his dark eyes flashing as he yelled. “Let it fucking go!”
I backed away from him as E came into the room.
“Fuck you. You promised, motherfucker. You said we’d keep her in the end. This is the fucking end, and she’s not mine. If I have to take matters into my own hands, so be it.” I stormed from the room as E called out, asking what was going on. I didn’t want him to hurt more, so I kept going.
I left the apartment with only one thing on my mind.
Getting answers.
I waited outside Anson’s apartment for two days in my car until the prick returned home.
The moment he went inside, I was storming up his stairs. I pounded on his door.
He pulled it open and stared back at me with tired eyes.
“She’s not here. She doesn’t live here. I haven’t seen her. Go away,” he said in a monotone, his fucking shirt off.
I noticed all the ink and rippling muscles the prick had. Pretty motherfucker, I’d give him that.
He tried to shut the door, but I stuck my hand out.
“I want to talk,” I said.
He studied me for a moment before sighing and letting me in.
I stepped in, noting how clean the prick was. I liked that, but still hated his ass.
He nodded for me to sit on the couch, so I did. Cotton jumped onto my lap, surprising me.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, petting his head. “I’ve missed you, buddy.” I scratched his cheeks just how he liked, listening as he purred before I looked at Anson, seated in the chair next to the couch. “Why do you have Cotton?”
“She left him here while she gets settled,” he said. “And no, you’re not taking him.”
“I wasn’t going to, dick,” I snapped at him.
“Talk, Scott. I have shit to do today.”
I turned and focused on him. “Rosalie is dating someone.”
“I’m aware,” he muttered, reaching into a side table and pulling out a cigarette. I watched as he lit it and smoked. He blew the smoke out, a cloud encircling his head.
“Cigarettes are bad for you,” I said, taking a sugar stick from my jacket pocket and handing it to him. I wanted answers, and if I had to pretend to be nice to get them, so be it.
Anson eyed it for a moment before stubbing out his cigarette and taking the sugar.
“You poison it?” He eyed the sugar.
“No, asshole, I didn’t. I’ll smoke it with you if it means I don’t have to breathe in that shit flame you just had lit.”
Anson glared at me for a moment before lighting up the sugar and taking a couple of deep drags before handing it back to me. I sucked down my share and blew out the smoke.
“So talk,” Anson said.
“Who is she dating?”
He let out a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t tell you that even if I did know.”
“So you don’t know who it is?”
He shook his head. “I don’t. Sorry. You won’t get a name for your kill list from me.”
“Well, how about a name for your kill list then. Or, how about two names?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m listening.”
I took another hit from the sugar and blew out the smoke. “Know a guy named Sylar?”
Anson shifted in his seat. “Yeah.”
“He’s the piece of shit she kissed before we broke up. She went back to his place and made out with him.”
Anson scrubbed his hand down his face. “Are you sure? Sylar isn’t…
he knows how I… That doesn’t make sense.
” He frowned, shaking his head before he pulled out his phone.
I watched as he went through it for a moment before turning his speaker on.
The phone rang for a moment before a deep voice answered.
“Took you long enough,” the guy said.
“So it’s true?” Anson demanded.
“Yes.”
How the fuck did he even know what was going on? Anson spoke to him as if this were the norm. Is this what Vander Veer meant when he said the guy was some fucking special unicorn prick?
“What the fuck, man? Why? Why would you fucking do that shit? You knew how I… What the fuck?”
“Sorry, friend. It enriches the storyline. I was just trying to spice things up. Move the plot forward. Make her see she’s worth a hell of a lot more than what she had back at home. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled, sitting forward. “You piece of dog shit.”
“Cole Scott.” The guy chuckled. “Hello to you. Just so you know, her lips are so soft. She moans so fucking pretty. That little hum she does when she likes the way she’s being touched? Divine. A goddess, really.”
“I’m going to fucking hack your cock off and choke you with it,” I snarled. “Don’t let me fucking find you, you fucking prick weasel—”
“Oh, no worries. You won’t find me. I’ll find you. Anson, a pleasure. Thank me later.”
The line disconnected, and we both sat in silence.
“That piece of shit is your friend?” I let out a sour laugh. “Nice friend.”
“Sylar never does anything without purpose. I-I don’t believe he did it because he enjoyed it. There was a different purpose.”
“He’s on a suicide mission. Fucker. I’ll kill him. What does he look like?”
Anson scoffed. “Just like me, Scott. He’s my cousin.”
“You’re fucking joking.” I tugged at my hair. “I really fucking hate you De Santis pricks.”
“Surely not all of us,” Anson muttered.
We were both quiet for a moment.
“What else?” Anson asked.
“The guy she’s seeing.” I studied him, taking in the way he stared back at me, all attentive and pretty. Fuck, I hated how pretty the asshole was.
“Can you stop fucking looking at me?” I demanded. “And put a goddamn shirt on?”
“Where the fuck do you want me to look? You’re talking to me,” Anson snapped. “Sue me for being an aggressive listener! It’s my fucking house. If I want to walk around with my dick out, I will!”
“Aggressive listener. You take your fucking cock out and I’ll shoot you in the head. Fuck, I hate you.”
“Feeling is mutual,” Anson muttered. “Say what you need to say so you can get the fuck out of my house.”
“You know what. Fuck you.”
“Good. Fuck you. Get out.”
“Useless motherfucker.” I got to my feet and went to the door.
I paused once I got there and blew out a breath before looking back at him. He was sitting with his head in his hands.
I sighed. “Klaus Seeley. That’s the name we got. He’s who Rosalie is with.”
He looked over at me, a frown carved deep into his face.
“What? That-That’s not possible…”
“I don’t know what to tell you. It’s the name we got. I know we don’t like one another, but if you give a shit for her, you should probably find out if it’s true. And then do something about it so I don’t have to.”
“What would you do?”
“Kill him and your old man. You know I’m good for it.” I pulled his door open and left.
I really fucking was good for it. And maybe, just maybe, I’d take Anson out with them.