25. June
June
Iache all over, from head to fucking toe, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation rippling through my body when the men who I thought loved me sit me down and tell me that the person who ordered the hit on me last year, that started the chain of events that led me to be with them, is still fucking out there.
“What?” I say, not quite understanding. “I thought you figured out who it was and killed them all.”
Dominic rubs at his neck. “We were under the impression we had.”
“How could you make a mistake like that?” I glance between each man in this room and settle my sights on the beautifully broken one beside me. “Did you know about this?” I ask him.
But from the shocked expression on Simon’s face, it’s safe to say he didn’t have an idea either.
He shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t you guys tell me? How could you possibly think this wasn’t important information? I’m her fucking protective detail for Christ's sake."
“I feel like I don’t know you,” I whisper, my attention flitting from Dom to Coen. It lingers on Magnus. “I knew you wanted to tell me. But I don’t understand why you didn’t. You could have told me.” Tears well in my eyes but I beg for them to stay firmly rooted in place.
I will not cry, not here, not ever again. I have shed too many fucking tears for these men, for this fucking life that I never asked for.
I was dragged into it, an unwilling participant who bared her heart to these men, only to be pushed aside when I needed them most.
But isn’t this what they worried about? That I wouldn’t react well.
Am I giving in to their concerns by being mad at them?
How could they expect any other reaction from me?
Am I supposed to be grateful they kept this massive secret from me and pushed me aside while they handled such a situation on their own?
They put my life in danger every single day when they refused to tell me that my attacker was still out there. Sure, I may have murdered the man who hurt me, both of them, but they were only puppets with their strings being pulled by someone much more sinister.
“It’s my fault,” Dominic admits. “I’m the reason Bryant didn’t tell you sooner. I demanded he keep his mouth shut. He was only following orders.” He sits up straighter in his chair. “Same goes for Hayes. I ordered both of them to remain silent.”
“I would have told you, love. If I knew, I promise.” Simon’s pinky twitches like he wants to reach out and touch me but he doesn’t.
“Isn’t that fucking convenient,” Coen blurts out. “Seizing a fucking opportunity when he sees one.”
“Is there something you’d like to fucking say?” I stand and force my attention on the beautiful blond boy that I no longer recognize. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I point behind me. “What has Simon done to you to make you hate him so fucking much?”
Coen rises to his feet. “You know exactly what he’s done. What you’ve done.”
My chest heaves with anger. “Fucking say it, Coen.”
“I don’t have to say it.” He glares down at me. “We all know you’ve been fucking the enemy.”
I have never been one to let my frustrations get the best of me, not ever in a domestic situation. In a bar fight, maybe. When someone shoulder checks one of my friends, for sure. When I’m kidnapped and have no choice, absolutely. But never with a partner.
So when my hands reach out and shove every bit of their strength into Coen’s chest, I no longer recognize myself either.
Pain ripples through my left arm and if I’m not mistaken, I’ve torn one of my sutures.
I lower that arm to my side because I have no other choice, and shove him again with my right. “How fucking dare you.”
I had barely moved him but he regains his footing long enough for Simon to jump around and get in front of me.
“You lay a fucking finger on her and I’ll snap your fucking neck,” Simon tells him.
“Oh, you think you’re a tough guy.” Coen pushes Simon.
Simon holds his ground and doesn’t budge. “Get your fucking hands off of me, Hayes.”
“For fuck’s sake, will you two cut it out?” Dominic slams his glass on the table.
Magnus steadies his palms on my shoulders and guides me away from the confrontation. “Come on, princess. Sit back down.”
Dominic drags his hand along his beard. “Listen, we’re all stressed, tense, whatever you want to call it.
But if there is one more fucking childlike outburst, you’re out of here.
Done. That’s it. I will not tolerate you disrespecting June like that.
” Dom settles his serious sights on me. “But I do think you owe it to us all to let us know if you’re sleeping with Beckett. ”
“Ay,” Magnus calls out. “That’s not any of our business.” He focuses on me. “You don’t have to answer that, princess.”
“I’ll answer it for her,” Simon interrupts. “You guys are the worst profilers ever. We’re not fucking. We never have. We haven’t even so much as kissed.”
“Well…” I add.
“See!” Coen exclaims. “I fucking knew it.”
“Who are you?” I crane my head toward him and then glance at Simon. “I gave you CPR when I thought you had drowned.”
Simon brings his fingers to his lips. “I had to drown to get you to kiss me?”
“It wasn’t a kiss,” I tell the entire room.
“It was life or fucking death. I would have done it to a stranger.” I exhale and tug my arm toward me and hold it with my other hand.
“But Magnus is right, it is none of your business. Especially now, after everything you’ve put me through.
I never crossed that line with Simon because I was trying to be respectful, but it doesn’t seem we have a mutual understanding of things here.
On our relationship, or my fucking life. ”
I reach for the glass of bourbon across from me and down it in one gulp.
"Sit your fucking asses down before I leave," I tell Simon and Coen, but mainly Coen.
"You're all fucking lucky I'm still here.
" I point my thumb toward the garage. "I could walk out that door and not look back but I'm here because I love you. Not because you love me, but because I fucking choose to love you.” I skim my gaze across the room, even hovering it on Simon temporarily. “Now if you don’t want me to walk away, there can’t be any more lies. When I ask you a question, you answer it, and you answer it truthfully.”
I don’t know what’s finally gotten into me, but I’ve had enough. Enough of the lies, the deceit, the being pushed aside. This is the moment they finally show me if they actually do care, and the moment I decide what I’m going to do with that.
Leaving would be easy, but staying would be more work. Nothing good in life is ever simple, but should things really be this Goddamn difficult?
“What do you want to know, princess? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Magnus rubs my shoulder.
“Everything. I want to know everything. Start from the beginning.”
The guys finally settle back into their seats. Simon at my side and Coen in the chair opposite Dom's across the way.
They do their best, or what I think might be their best, in filling me in piece by piece.
It's a lot of information to dish out spanning more than six months.
They go over how they found the people the first time, how they thought they had eliminated the threat, and Simon even chimes in on how he was certain they had squashed the people that were responsible.
"So, hold on," I tell him. "If someone was able to orchestrate a cover-up that good, they had to be higher up in the organization, right? Since when do you not know of shit like that?" I train my sights right on Dom.
Dom nods. “Exactly. That’s why I called in Lorenzo Savini.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s a mercenary with a specific set of skills. He knows almost every hit that gets ordered and who and where it happens. The inner details that aren’t made common knowledge.”
“Why? Why does he have all that information?”
“Because he’s that good.” Dominic drains more of his bourbon. “He can make anyone disappear. Not the type of person you want to be on their bad side.”
“Does he even have a good side?”
Dom shakes his head. “No, not really. Although, he’s got this thing against women and children.”
“He’s like a sexist pig or something?”
“No, I misspoke. He doesn’t kill women or kids, not unless it’s absolutely necessary. And he doesn’t take kindly to men abusing their power against a woman.”
“Interesting that a serial killer has morals, but go on.”
“He’s looking into the hit ordered against you. It’s been difficult to locate, which only confirms our suspicions that it was someone deep in the organization.”
Simon chimes in. “But you said the same attacks are happening on the east coast, aside from their obsession with June?”
Dominic nods. “Cryptic notes about taking what was theirs. Which is the opposite of what ours have said.”
“Well, what was it?” I ask when he doesn’t continue.
“That they will take what is ours.” Dom sighs.
“At first, I didn’t place the attacks with what had happened to you.
I was convinced we eliminated that threat.
But the notes got more specific. There were several detailing the things Vincent had done to you.
Others about certain clothes you had worn or the way you’d wear your hair.
I kept the information concealed because I didn’t know who I could trust. I wasn’t sure who the mole was, but it had to be someone close to us.
I was confident it wasn’t Hayes or Bryant, and…
” Dom looks at Simon. “Well, after Beckett gave up everything for you, I never questioned whether it was him.”
“At least you were right about one thing,” I tell Dominic.
“But you were wrong in not telling me. Of all the people that should have known. Do you not realize how many times I potentially put myself in danger because you chose not to tell me someone wanted me dead? I assumed it came with the territory of being with you three, but this is something else entirely. This is personal.”
“I see the error now,” Dominic admits.
“But that isn’t all of it, is it?”