Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sver
I load Candy into my rental car, our clothes from last night already bagged and stashed in the spare tire well. It’s not the best hiding place, but it’ll pass the notice of a random traffic stop. I’ll properly dispose of all the items later.
If I drive a car for any length of time, I fit it with a false well that is almost impossible to notice.
Candy’s brown and red hair is pulled back in a ponytail, showing off the red in a way I like.
Her face scrubbed free of makeup looks even younger, and honestly, even prettier than the first night I met her.
Her hands are clasped together, resting on her thighs which are encased in a pair of ripped and very fitted jeans.
I can’t wait to peel them off her.
I shouldn’t. Candy is not part of my plan.
I’ve been watching Angel closely, which is how I knew he tossed her out. He set her up with a job at the bar of one of his friends, but no one is protecting her like Angel was before.
And despite my best attempt not to take on her care, I don’t like the fact that she’s been so vulnerable.
Which is why I’ve been finding myself following her more and more often.
“How come you were at my place last night?” she asks as she picks at one of her nails.
I tell the truth…mostly. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“How did you know where I live?”
I sigh. There is little point in pretending I’m a better man than I am. She’s already watched me kill two people. “I followed you home from the bar.”
All right. I’m still pretending. This was not a one-time deal. I regularly follow her. Some might use the word stalking. I know her every habit, her every haunt.
And some things have become apparent.
That night with me in Vegas was an anomaly. Candy doesn’t date. She doesn’t hook up. She doesn’t even hang out. And I want to know why…
“Oh,” she says as she stops picking her nail to twist her fingers together. “You followed me.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “If you’re mad, I’m sorry.” I’m not really. “I’m not a normal kind of guy.”
That makes her lips turn up. “I am pathologically repulsed by normal.”
I smile in return, easing back into my seat. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“What I’m trying to decide is if I’ve finally found the guy who is going to be my undoing.”
“No.” It comes out harsh and grating. I’m not trying to frighten her. But I’ve killed exactly one woman in my life, and I am haunted by the memory. I could kill a thousand men and not feel a thing. But a woman…
She turns to me, swallowing down a lump, her gaze still unsure. “Where are we going?”
“To see Angel.”
She gasps, the color draining from her face. “Why?”
“Because we’ve got a few facts to clean up.”
“I don’t want to.” She shakes her head.
“Why not?”
“Because”—her clasped hands come up to her chin—“Angel’s been nothing but good to me and I—”
“Cutting you loose was not him being good to you,” I growl, knowing the part I played in her removal from Angel’s care.
“I deserved to be let go. I let Vinnie in first and then…” Her gaze flicks to me.
Some people never want to take accountability. That is not Candy’s problem. If anything, she hyperfixates on her mistakes.
I let go of the shifter, placing my hand on her thigh. These are the ways in which Candy draws me deeper into her care.
I want to say to her, you’ll never make a mistake again, I’ll make sure of it.
But that’s not the kind of promise assassins make. We don’t do pretty endings. My only reason for existing all these years is to make sure my daughters had a soft landing.
I’m hoping they have found exactly that with the Smiths. But I remain skeptical.
They’ve certainly got the money and the power to protect my girls. And they seem like hard enough men to keep the ills of the world at bay. But are they giving Sasha and Katarina that right amount of soft?
My daughters deserve gentle protection after all they’ve been through.
All that I allowed to happen to them.
Guess Candy isn’t the only one doing a lot of self-blame. But I deserve a whole lot more of it than she does.
The things I’ve done…
I squeeze her leg, my thumb skimming her bare thigh through the rips. Christ, I want to run my hands all over her skin.
My attraction to her is clouding my judgment, and that makes me weak and puts me in danger.
A deep rumble fills my chest, a small sound, pushing through my lips.
Candy looks over at me, her leg tensing under my touch. “You think I’m right, don’t you?”
I got so deep in my thoughts, I’d forgotten the thread of our conversation. I lightly massage her thigh. “Do I think that you deserve to die unprotected because you slept with me? No. I don’t.”
“Oh.” I feel her relax under my hand. “I don’t think Angel sees it that way, though.”
Well. He’s going to change his mind by the time we’re done talking.
This is likely not a conversation that Candy should witness, but I wasn’t leaving her unattended at her place.
We arrive at the strip club where Angel keeps his offices. With his new partners and his new real estate deals, he’s shutting down his drug trade. He’s started selling that business for a pretty profit.
I imagine he’ll be leaving this club behind soon enough. But he’s still here now, and I intend to take full advantage.
I pull into the alley that leads to the back parking lot. It’s closed from view except for the small entrance through an alley, most of the buildings that surround it, windowless. Almost anything can happen in this parking lot without a single witness.
It’s another way in which Angel was strategic in his choices.
I park the car, not bothering to get out. The parking lot is wired with closed circuit cameras, which means the Sinclairs already know I’m here.
Sure enough, the back door bursts open, all five brothers filing out into the parking lot just as my car rolls to a stop.
Rock is in the lead, his square jaw and blockish body perfectly suited to his name.
Next is Axel. Race car driver, he’s intelligent and driven. But he’s also an adrenaline junky.
Angel takes the middle, Gunner behind him. A weapons expert, he doesn’t like to be touched, and that’s a major personal weakness.
In the back is Knox, an MMF fighter and all-around badass.
I know their story. All of them orphaned and in the system. They were adopted by a low-level gangster, adopted to become a criminal army. It’s made them hard men.
I step out of the car, but I don’t make eye contact, don’t challenge any of them as I move around the Honda Accord I’ve rented to open Candy’s door.
She’s visibly shaking now. I reach for her hand and help her out. To her credit, she stays on her feet, her head high, despite her trembling.
My girl can fake it.
I bet she’s had to do that a lot. It hits me that she shouldn’t. She should have a man she can trust to keep her safe.
I don’t even think as I wrap an arm around her waist, steadying her as we start to walk toward the Sinclair men who have fanned out in a line.
“Candy,” Angel calls out. “You were not on the list of people I expected to see today.”
From inside the open door, I hear a female squeal. “Candy? Angel, did you just say Candy’s here?”
A woman appears in the doorway, wearing a cropped tank top and thong. Then another behind her in an equally tiny outfit. “Is it really you? Oh sugar, I’ve been dying for one of your waxes. Tell me you brought some tools.”
More women stream out the door, moving past the Sinclairs like water around a rock. Some of them are topless, others are without pants, none of them are concerned.
And they are all talking.
About Candy’s hair. Or her cute jeans, or their snatch which is in desperate need of her services.
Candy’s eyes are wide and a little glassy.
“Girl. Tell me you have scissors and can fix whatever hot mess that Aisha made of my weave.”
Another one of them fluffs her hair. “It’s not the same around here without you.”
“Um…” Candy clears her throat. “I’m sure Angel does not want me—”
“Angel,” another calls, turning around. “You gonna let Candy fix us up or what? Looking this raggedy is affecting my tips!”
Angel frowns, his gaze meeting mine. I give a quick jerk of my chin. I won’t hide behind Candy when it comes to Angel, and it’s better that she’s not present for the meeting I need to have with him. There are things that need to be said and a strong likelihood this could end in violence.
“Candy, are you willing to do a cameo for us today?” Angel asks, his gaze shifting to my sweet little treat.
“Of course,” she says, sounding slightly breathless. For the first time, it occurs to me that she might have feelings for Angel. He’s the original hero, and that fact sends a wave of hot anger coursing through me.
But I let her go as one of the women draws her forward and the crowd of women carries her inside.
Now it’s just me and the wall of Sinclairs.
I’m sure they think their numbers give them an advantage. It doesn’t. I’ve fought a lot more men than this and I always come out on top.
I stand straighter.
“Want to come inside?” Angel asks.
“Here is fine for now,” I answer, crossing my arms as I subtly draw out a knife that is tucked in the arm of my shirt. I’m certain we’ll need to move this conversation to a more private location, but I want to observe these men first.
Angel lets out a long breath. “Why are you here?”
“With Candy, no less,” Rock spits. “Flaunting the fact that you flipped her?”
“Is that a sexual reference?” Now I’m just being a dick. But it has the necessary effect, riling Rock as he blows out a breath like a bull.
“Rock,” Angel growls.
Rock might be their weakest link. Hotheaded and lacking in a certain emotional depth, he struggles for control.
I return my gaze to Angel. “I’m here because last night, three men tried to kill Candy.”
“Three?” Axel asks, brushing back his overlong hair. “That seems excessive. Candy’s fairly petite.”
Knox snorts.
“I don’t think you’re funny,” I growl back. “You cut her out and left her to die. That doesn’t bother you?”
Angel straightens up. “Her dating profile was a liability we couldn’t ignore.”
“She has to die over that?”
Angel’s not biting, though. “You know it’s not personal. Just like you know she deserved to be let go.”
I look away. Any other man would have done the same. But I’d been hoping to make an emotional appeal. “Does it matter to you at all that it was Vinnie Morelli who ordered her hit?”
That’s got their attention. “How do you know that?” Gunner asks.
“Marco told me himself.”
“Marco’s dead,” Rock huffs. “He didn’t tell you shit.”
“He’s dead now,” I say, narrowing my gaze. They get my message.
“Shit.” Angel scrubs a hand down his jaw. “That was you.”
I know better than to confirm or deny anything. But everyone is reasonably calm, enough that I know it’s safe to move this conversation into the building. “Where can we finish this without cameras?”
Angel shakes his head. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re not invited inside because I won’t invite the snake into the garden.”
“Have it your way. I only wanted to give you a say on how I handle Vinnie Morelli.” The man is going to die.
It’s just a question of when and how…