Chapter 17 Eian
EIAN
“Faster,” I urge Colby as we climb back out of the trap door and into the alley.
“Eian, do you know who those people are?” he whispers, sounding beyond distressed.
As soon as I’m out, I close the trap door then take Colby by the shoulders and shake him roughly.
“Think, Colby!” I snap at him. “Of fucking course I know who they are, but we can’t say shit.”
“He kept the file, Eian!” His tone is moving dangerously close to hysterical, so I grab his forearm and start pulling him down the alley.
No one can see us here, we need to get back to the car.
“You took pictures of everything,” I remind him. And you’re alive. But I don’t say that part.
God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear like that, not even when Da died. When Brent pointed his gun at Colby—
No, I can’t freak out too.
“Let’s move,” I tell him, but before we get to the end of the alley, Colby yanks his hand from mine.
“Eian, what if they’re working with him? What if they’re all in on it?”
“That’s not possible,” I snap at him, without even thinking about it.
“Think about it,” Colby urges. “Brent was obviously scared of Crawford—”
“Shh.” I shush him sharply, then take his shoulders and walk him back three steps until his back is pressed against the wall and we’re shrouded in the building’s shadow.
“Don’t fucking say the names, Colby.” God, how the hell am I going to stop him from going down this rabbit hole.
This isn’t any of our business anymore. “What you saw tonight . . . fuck, Colby, you can’t ever talk about it with anyone, do you understand? ”
I know damn well Harry isn’t involved in human trafficking for fuck’s sake, and of course Iris would never do that. I can’t say I know anything about any of the others, but since my family was there, I know that at least.
Obviously, I can’t tell any of this to Colby.
So how the fuck am I going to placate him until I can talk to Harry?
“You’re scared too,” he whispers.
“I’m not scared of them.” I have to roll my eyes though I doubt he can see it very clearly.
“I was scared shitless Brent was going to kill you, and I have no fucking clue why those rich assholes were there, why they were together, or what they’re going to do now.
But I don’t give a shit because you not dying, you not getting yourself into more trouble is more important than anything, Colby. Anything. Do you understand?”
I feel Colby’s sharp breaths hitting my neck, but he doesn’t say anything for the longest time.
I hadn’t realized he was gripping my biceps hard until his hold loosens and his arms drop to his sides.
“So what, we’re just going to do nothing?” He might sound mad as hell, but at least he’s whispering again. “After everything we’ve done, after getting all the proof we need to put him away, we’re just going to hand it over to the fucking Illuminati?”
I have to snort.
“They’re not the Illuminati.” That’s ridiculous, but I do like that out of the two of us, I’m the one who sounds rational.
That probably won’t happen very often. “I don’t know what they are, and neither do you, but I understand enough to know that nothing I can do will help us if those people decide we’re too much of a liability, Colby.
We can’t talk about it ever again. We can’t think about it ever again.
We have to forget that happened. And no, I’m not saying we’re going to do nothing.
We’re going to go home, give Seamus all the pictures you took, then we’re going to go to sleep.
In the morning, I’ll call the commissioner and we’ll go from there, all right? ”
With my eyes adjusting to the dark, I can see the conflict in his eyes, his need to know more, know everything now. It’s his nature, and it’s just another thing I love about him, so I reach up to cup his cheek, and give him the time he needs to see reason.
“There’s something wrong about what just happened, Eian. You know that, right?”
“I know as much as you do,” I tell him, almost a hundred percent truthfully, because I know he needs to hear it. I can tell he’s doubting me, and though I get it, it doesn’t take the sting away.
Not able to disguise it this time, I drop my hand and step back.
“We’re not going to tell anyone about all the people who were there. Whatever’s happening in that house now is not just above their pay grades, Colby, but mine too. And very few things are, so we’re going to tell them we got pictures of everything and that’s it, okay?”
Somehow it hurts more when the fight seems to leave him completely and he nods. “Yeah, okay.”
“Let’s go, then,” I grumble, and just start walking.
It feels like an apology when, three steps later, Colby rushes to me and grips my hand then falls into step with me.
And that just makes me feel worse, because I don’t think I deserve that apology.
At three in the morning, I pace in my office and throw back my second glass of whiskey.
Colby did everything exactly right, exactly as I told him to, but I know he was still conflicted when he went to his room to call Bran. I know he got a few minutes of seeing Maggie, but then he stayed in there to sleep.
It’s only been two nights, he’s only slept in my bed two nights, but when I was faced with my empty bed, I just couldn’t bring myself to get in. I also knew that Colby going to his room was very deliberate, and going to his bed now would not end well for anyone.
It wouldn’t be fair.
I know he doesn’t love me. I know it might take him months, maybe years, to get to where I am—no, there’s no way he’ll ever feel for me what I feel for him, and honestly I wouldn’t wish it on him. It’s all-consuming, and frankly, annoying as fuck.
But I wouldn’t change it.
I’d rather have my head full of thoughts of Colby every minute of every day than not know him, not have him here.
Right now the only way I can think of keeping Colby here, happy and willing, is to tell him. He wants to know things, he wants to know everything.
The way he refused to tell me who the baker at MP was tells me he’s more than capable of keeping secrets. but that’s not why I think telling him about Harry now would be the worst idea in the history of ideas.
Twelve hours ago, telling Colby that Harrison Crawford is my cousin would have been so much simpler. If I told him now, he’d still keep the secret, that’s not the issue, but he’d hound Harry with questions that Harry would probably never answer.
I don’t know if that would be better or worse for us.
The flash of lights across my window stops every thought of Colby. No one should be driving a car right now. I’d fucking know if someone was arriving at the house.
I move on autopilot, snatch my gun from my desk, and get ready for a fight. But when I open the door to my office I see Rory’s already there, and she’s armed and ready, watching as the big black SUV rounds the fountain then stops right by us.
“Don’t move,” I mutter to Rory. I have an idea of who’s in the car—the only person it could be—and I don’t want her shooting before we get answers.
I can see the driver’s door open, but I can’t make out who the man is until he rounds the back of the car.
“Connor?” Rory asks, thankfully sounding more confused than angry.
He nods at Rory, but when his eyes move to me, I can see how determined he is.
He’ll protect them, even from me.
I never thought that not having the undying loyalty of someone from the family would bring me relief.
It’s short-lived, though, because as soon as Connor opens the back door and Harrison steps out, dressed as impeccably as he was hours ago and holding a big briefcase, I can feel Rory’s body tensing.
Harry looks back into the car and offers Iris—fucking hell—a hand to help her out. I think she was wearing something different before, but it’s all so jumbled inside my head. The only clear memories I have of tonight are of Brent and Colby.
Wearing black leggings, tan Uggs, and an MIT sweatshirt, she looks like the college kid she should be allowed to be. She sure as fuck shouldn’t have to come to a mob boss’s house in the middle of the fucking night.
Even if I am her uncle.
But fuck, she still walks as if she’s wearing a million dollar gown, as if her unruly black hair wasn’t a mess on top of her head, and when her eyes lock on Rory, I feel an explosion of pride inside me when she holds her gaze, when she stares right back.
“Evening, Aurora,” Harrison says, and barely spares her a glance. While she sucks in a surprised gasp, I realize the man standing in front of me right now isn’t my cousin.
No.
This is Harrison Theodore Crawford, the king of New York.
He walks right past me into the house and Iris follows him. Connor nods at us to go in, then closes the door behind him too.
“What, the fuck, Eian?” Rory mutters at me as we watch Iris and Harrison stop a few feet into the foyer.
I can’t look at her. Instead, I keep my eyes on Harry.
“What is this?” I keep my voice mild and detached. There’s no reason to let out all my confusion and anger.
A flicker of regret passes through Harry’s eyes before he can mask it from me, and I fear the worst.
They know.
All those people he took to Brent’s house know and now all of our lives are in danger—
The fear stops when Harry’s face goes blank.
“Is there anywhere we could talk in private?” He looks pointedly at Rory.
I think about it for a long second then nod toward my office’s open door. “My office is this way.”
Iris takes one step forward and Rory moves too. Seeing this, Harrison holds up a hand.
“I’m afraid you’re not invited to this meeting, Aurora,” he says mildly, and all I can think is he should be afraid. Her face transforms so she looks like she’s about to lose her cool and shoot him in the face, but she surprises me when all she does is spit venom with every word.
“If I can’t go, then neither can she.” She points at Iris.