Diamond Desire

Chapter Twenty Six

English council estates were a strange thing to experience. Not because I had never been anywhere so run down or poor. But because of what waited for us as we pulled our rented cars – a pair of shiny clean white Range Rovers – onto the pothole covered concrete jungle, surrounded by tiny houses overrun with grass, rubbish and graffiti. And a handful of skyscraper-like apartment blocks.

The sky was gray as I had predicted, and the air was freezing cold. When my men and I got out of the cars, I instantly smelled the stench of stale beer, fried food, and despair. Sure, not every house was rundown. A lot of the small, brick terraced homes looked well kept and maintained. But the entire place reminded me of the poorer areas of Diamond Grove, where the only thing rife through the streets was drugs, poverty and unhappiness at how the world had treated them.

Still, all of that was normal enough for an area forgotten by the world and its governments. The only thing that shocked me is what happened as I pulled out my borrowed phone, checking the house address Misha had made a note of as my team eyed up the area for threats, finding a sort of threat waiting for us.

We were being surrounded by three miscreants, all wearing black tracksuits, black balaclavas and the best part of all…

They were children.

“Give us the car keys and we won’t have any beef.” The tallest of the lot, still a few inches shorter than me, stepped forward as he reached inside of his puffy black coat, pulling a machete out as though it was an entirely normal thing for him to carry on a dreary weekday morning.

I felt my team tense up. Both with the urge to laugh, a sprinkle of surprise, and the undeniable urge to protect me that was so potent they even applied it to the tiny menaces of a random North London council estate.

I stepped toward the boy, who spoke, grinning ear to ear.

“I like beef.” I pulled the edge of my jacket back, dragging my gun out as the others did the same, and we moved to form a circle around the trio. “So I suggest you take your mask off and answer a handful of questions, and I will think about not killing you.”

It wasn’t like I would shoot a kid, but I mean, he had pulled a machete on me so…

“Ah shit.” He raised his hand, machete going with it, as he whipped off his mask and gave me a toothy grin. “I guess you can keep the rides, then. We can go about our day and that and pretend nothing happened.”

His short black hair was slicked back, and oddly perfect compared to the dirt stains on his sneakers, and the laid back vibe he emanated, and I was curious about him and how someone who barely looked like a teenager could do what he was doing. Where did he buy a machete? Why was he not in school? And where were his parents? Surely they ought to have been keeping better control over their son, and teaching him that blades and thievery were not acceptable hobbies. Or at least showing him how to do such things without being caught and threatened himself.

“What the fuck is a child doing, stealing cars with a machete?” Kody asked before I could as he kept his gun trained on the boy’s chest, the same way I did.

Kody would murder a child for me and though I shouldn’t have liked it, I did.

It was weirdly loving in a messed up way.

The boy shrugged. “You’re in North London, pretty boy. You carry or you get patterned up by someone who does.”

“I don’t even know what that means, but okay?” I tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all and the fact he had called Kody pretty. “Seeing as we have guns, I think it seems fair that you listen to us for a moment.”

The boy continued to stand there, as relaxed as ever. Hardly an ounce of him showing he even cared for the fact we had weapons. If anything, he looked bored.

“Well, you said you had questions, so how about you get on with it so we can continue our day?” He faked a yawn.

“Your day of stealing cars from strangers instead of being in school.” It was hard to not laugh as I spoke. The entire interaction was ridiculous.

“Range Rovers are stolen in their hundreds daily. If you didn’t want your car nicked, you shouldn’t have bought one easy to steal.” He smirked at me, but I could spot the signs of fear in his posture, and the tense way he kept glancing at his two friends.

He was calm, but something bothered him and I wasn’t sure if it was our guns or something more.

My eyes rolled, but I chose to pretend I wasn’t curious and concentrate on why we were there. “Do you live around here?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.” He sassed.

“So you know the area.” As nice as it would have been to scare him a little for his attitude, I really didn’t have the time or patience. I just wanted to get my task over with, then head off somewhere to get drunk and pretend I wasn’t scared or desperately tired.

“I do.” He said.

“Good. I think you can help us then.” The address Misha had found wasn’t written the same way as American addresses were so though I could figure out the house number we had, finding the right street or apartment block seemed like it would take a minute, and I was all for things to be speedier so I could return home.

We hadn’t come straight from the airport. We’d checked into a fancy hotel – penthouse suite, of course – and had taken a few hours to shower, eat and nap away the jet lag until it was a good time for us to go hunting for our target. But other than that little break, I really was eager to be finished and have another thing crossed off my to do list.

I didn’t have the energy inside of my soul to keep pretending I was okay.

I needed my stalker dealt with now – before I truly gave up, just like I almost did in the dungeon with my daddy.

“What sort of help?” The kid asked.

“Nothing illegal.” I promised as I slid my gun away, feeling like it wasn’t needed for now when he seemed so pliable.

He snorted. “I don’t care about that. I just want to know if we’re talking robbery, murder or something lame, like a drug deal. Because at the minute, I’m cautious of the guns. But it’s gonna need a lot more than the threat of a gun to make me go and murder someone for you.”

Oddly enough, I felt like he would kill someone I asked him to kill, but only if I offered something he found worthwhile. And though it was childish, a huge part of my brain wanted to offer him money to find out what sort of price a child would charge me to kill.

My men were not buyable, but I had the feeling this child was more than willing to play games for the highest bidder.

“I just want information.” I said, instead of listening to my impulsive thoughts.

He paused, weighing up his options as he once more looked between his friends, waiting for them to nod too before he said, “Sure, I can give out information. Snitches get stitches though, so make it quick and then pretend you never saw me.”

“I’m looking for someone and we have their name and address, but I don’t understand this street things you have, so if you tell me where to find them then I will consider this deal done.” I grinned. “If you do it quickly, I’ll even be nice about it and give you some pocket money to buy toys with.”

He seemed too old to want to play with toys, but I was feeling like being a petty bitch. It was fun sometimes, and though I usually reserved my attitude for Lincoln, it had become less effective lately. Anytime I sassed my bunny now, he just fucked the attitude right out of me. Which was amazing. But also meant I had to find another handful of outlets for when I wanted to be annoying to ease the darkness in my memories when it tried to hurt me.

“I know people. Give me a name and I’ll get them.” The kid grinned.

“I’m looking for Cassidy Cardinal-Fineman.” Her name left my lips, and he froze, instantly pulling his blade back out, even if it was pointless.

“You know what? I changed my mind. I don’t know anyone in this area.”

His dark eyes narrowed at me were almost familiar, and I shook my head clear of the thought. There was no way I could mistake the sudden shift in his demeanour, or the fact that both his friends had whipped their head in his direction as well the minute Shannon’s false name was spoken. Which could only mean one thing.

“I take it you’re Ares or Hades? Sorry, I don’t know which one – they aren’t names I’m used to.” I tried to be polite about it and not laugh.

“That’s ‘cause the names are fucking dumb.” The tanned boy to the left of him snorted, right before his friend glared and elbowed him in the gut.

I giggled but chose not to agree. “Well, my name is Sapphire Montana. And I am… well, my daddy is an old friend of your mama’s. If I am right in my assumption…?”

“Ares.” The knife wielding miscreant muttered. “My name is Ares.” With a firm set to his jaw, and all joking gone, he barked, “Show me your ID.”

I did as he asked, a little surprised he wasn’t asking who I was, and instead seemed to be after confirmation. But my thoughts were only heightened when a second later, he gave out even more information when I flashed him a picture of my driving license, on account of not knowing where the original was.

Malone had taken it from me months ago and I had never gotten it back.

I doubted I ever would.

“Now show me your Red Diamonds tattoo.” Ares snapped, his jaw ticking.

“I don’t have one, as I don’t like tattoos on me and it is my gang – I do not need to wear a sign of my loyalty on my skin.” I waved to all the guys and Delilah. “But each of my team wears one, and I can even show you pictures of me with my daddy to show I am who I say I am. Seeing as he was famous, and you seem to know Red Diamonds things, perhaps that would ease your mind instead.”

Ares asked me to do as I said, and as I flashed him more pictures, and each person I was with showed off their Red Diamonds tattoo, his two friends took off their masks. Neither boy was older than him, and once more I was shocked at how so many children were doing such things. But it wasn’t my business, and I wasn’t about to ruin the stroke of luck we’d had by bumping into Shannon O’Malley’s son.

A DNA connection I tried not to think about too hard for one rather aggravating reason.

I wanted to slaughter the entire O’Malley line, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill a child for no reason other than his unfortunate DNA.

Ares sighed when we were done proving ourselves. “Okay, I believe you. And mum told me that if you were to ever come looking, that I could trust you. So I guess we can take you home.”

“Trust me?” I repeated, brows raised.

I had been expecting Shannon to know of me, or perhaps be wary of my daddy coming for her again, but trusting us was unexpected. I had presumed my daddy helping her escape John had been a business deal of sorts, but it seemed I was wrong. Shannon seemed to know my daddy, and by default me, were good people.

Good enough that she knew we would not harm her son even with his O’Malley blood.

“Air.” The brown-haired and deeply tanned boy to Ares’ left muttered a warning under his breath, but it was mostly ignored.

“It’s cool, Madd’s. I got this.” Ares grinned brighter. “I’ll take you to my mum, but leave your car keys.” He eyed up my group. “And you can leave two of your people behind as insurance that you don’t do something stupid.”

I scoffed. “So you can steal them both and threaten my people with your blades?” It was a guess, but I was sure the other two boys carried weapons, too. It didn’t seem smart for just one of them to have a knife.

“Beni will watch your ride. Nobody will touch it or your people,” He promised as he pointed to his other friend; a skinny Asian boy who offered a little wave at me. “But I’m not taking you to my house armed to the teeth and with the option of a getaway vehicle. I might be young, but I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Debatable, considering you’re running around with a blade threatening people.” I carried a gun at his age, but I knew what I was doing. For all I knew, he had picked up his weapon for fun and had no idea how to use it, or when it was best not to use it.

“You would carry to if you lived around here. I already said the option is to carry or get stabbed, and I don’t fancy getting stabbed again.”

My brows rose. “Again?”

Ares lifted the edge of his shirt, showing off a wicked scar a few inches over his stomach. “Perks of living here.” He grinned. “Now, do we have a deal or not?”

I glanced at my men, waiting for their nods of approval before I agreed to Ares’ request. Leaving Widow and Delilah to stay with the cars was natural, and I didn’t even have to ask them – they knew what I would do and moved to sit in the front seats, as the boy called Beni hopped into the back with them. I could hear him asking questions about their guns and what it was like being a gangster, long before the doors shut.

“Madd’s will come with me.” Ares nudged his friend our way, ignoring the way the kid’s hazel eyes rolled. “Follow us.”

The one he called Madd’s walked behind us, hovering at the edge of the group as though he were doing nothing but relaxing. And not taking a bunch of gangsters into one of the nearby houses that had a cute front door painted bright yellow.

Shannon O’Malley’s house was pristine on the outside; the grass was even freshly mowed despite how rainy it was and had no doubt been for a while. There was nothing about it that screamed deadly and dangerous to me, nor was there anything rich about it. Which was slightly odd considering the O’Malley’s came from money the same way I had. Even if theirs was only millions compared to my billions.

Just as Ares headed toward the door, it was yanked open by a bundle of pale skin, and long limbs. The girl who stood there was dressed in pyjamas with weird letter and number combinations all over them, and the words vaccines cause adults emblazoned on her top. Her hair was a mountain of bright red curls that no amount of her attempts to tie back seemed to combat.

She looked nothing like her twin brother. Not an ounce of them was similar, even down to the shape of their features or the fact she was taller than him.

“Hades, I presume.” I cocked my head, trying to work out how the hell the girl was already the same height as me despite her young age, and if it made me a loser to be jealous of that fact.

“D, what the fuck did I say about opening the door?” Ares barged into the home, shoving his sister out of the way with a clap around the back of her head that held no menace in it.

She ignored him, choosing to offer out a blinding grin behind him. “Hi, Maddox!”

“Hey, beautiful.” Maddox strolled into the house, ruffling her curls and drawing a slight scowl. “You should be in school.” He said to her.

She huffed. “So should you.”

Her brother and his friend bickered with her a moment as Ares waved us inside, straight into their living room. Well, living room and dining room. The home was tiny, and it seemed they had no hallway, and only the one room to fit everything in, with a set of carpeted stairs to the left, and what I presumed was the door to the kitchen on the right. And whilst the entire place was clearly cleaned and maintained, there was no denying that they were definitely as poor as I was thinking they were. The furniture was mismatched and old. The wallpaper was peeling slightly, and the floor was a hideously patterned green carpet.

Misha had said my daddy had given Shannon fifty million pounds to start her life in England, so where the hell had all that money gone?

We huddled into the lounge as Maddox and Ares left the room a moment, the pair heading upstairs to change whilst Ares left us in his sister’s perfectly capable hands. He’d told her we were friends, but that was about the gist of it, so I understood why she cocked her head, staring at me the minute the two boys had run up the stairs.

“Who are you?” Hades asked. She wasn’t being overly hostile or polite. It seemed she was just curious and not concerned.

“Sapphire.” I replied, as I hovered in front of my boys, each of them standing behind me as they glanced around the room filled with pictures of a loving family throughout the years. “Specifically Sapphire Montana. My daddy and your mama were… friends at one point.”

She folded her arms over her chest, unblinking. “You’re American. I think there’s a trace of something else in your accent too, like Spanish? But not from Spain. Somewhere different, with a twist of something else I can’t place.”

“Colombia; my mama was from there and I spent more time there, and around other countries like it growing up.” Though I was confused about her line of questioning, it didn’t seem rude or anything, so I had no objections to replying. “I speak Spanish mainly, but I am fluent in English, of course. And Russian.”

“Colombian and the Russian is what I can hear too.” She bobbed her head as though confirming something in her own thoughts. “Your country is famous for the amazon rainforest, the Andes, Pablo Escobar, and coffee.” She grinned and instantly switched her next words to flawless Russian, surprising me once more. “You are also somehow connected to my parents. My mum more so. But I’m not sure why yet, even if I am sure that you know them.”

“What makes you think I know your parents?” Seeing as nobody else in the room spoke Russian, I kept the conversation going in English.

She pointed to the Red Diamonds tattoo visible on three of my guy’s arms.

“My parents are American, and they have the same tattoos as you. I presume that’s part of the gang they used to be in before they ran away here and you’re either here to kill them or talk to them.” She explained. “I figure you want to talk, seeing as you’ve not shot my brother or Maddox, and you’re being calm. Calmness indicates you are here for peaceful reasons. But even without that, you have more skill than we do, and my brother wouldn’t have let you into the house if he was worried.”

“What makes you think we have more skill than you?” I was curious to see what logic the girl had behind her reasoning, even more so when it seemed she was a little different than I had been expecting for a child.

She seemed… smart. Smart in an odd observational sort of way and I was intrigued by it.

Hades pointed at each of my men and their guns as she answered my question.

“There are six of you and three of us. And even if we were all armed with guns, at least half of you are competent shooters, and my brother and I have only been trained to use shotguns, not handguns. I presumed there would be a difference in skill based on that alone, but based on my calculations, at least half of your group are proficient with weapons, which makes a bigger problem.”

I could feel Misha bouncing a little next to me and wondered if he found her just as curious as I did, or if he was just nerding out over her outfit. It looked science-y and my Misha did love science stuff.

“Which of us do you think are good with guns?” I smirked as I crossed my arms over my chest. “You don’t know us, and I am curious to why you pick your answers.”

Hades stared at the group for a moment, big blue eyes raking down each one of us head to toe before she settled on her response.

“The taller blonde man is holding his weapon with confidence, although he has recently had his fingers reattached, which indicates he knows what he’s doing, even with the disadvantage of his presumable nerve damage.” She pointed at Lincoln first. “He is also standing slightly inclined so that his body is almost in front of yours, or could be within a second, which tells me he is your bodyguard. And I would take a calculated guess that bodyguards can shoot or else he wouldn’t be a very good one.”

She was right about all of it, even the part about my bunny being ready to use himself as a human shield should the need arise.

“Who next?” I asked.

She looked at the men again, eyes settling on Kody. “I think you’re the next viable option.”

“Do you?” He gave nothing away by his tone or words, but that didn’t seem to matter. “What makes you think that?”

“Are you Romanian, by any chance?” She cocked her head as she asked more questions. “Maddox is Romanian, and you have similar complexions and features. I understand that skin colour isn’t always an indicator of nationality, but it’s worth an ask.”

“I was born in Hungary.” Kody’s lips twitched with a smile. “So, close.”

Hades nodded. “Hungarian, but you left the country before you were twelve at the latest and have been in America since, I think.”

His dark brows rose. “How did you know?”

“You have an American accent for the most part. Children who leave their home country before the age of twelve usually end up developing the accent of the place they move to. But those who move after twelve tend to keep the dialect and vocal indicators from their homeland. You have enough for me to think you have an accent from somewhere along the West Coast now, which means you moved away from Hungary before you were twelve.”

Misha muttered something under his breath, but I waited to ask what he said, instead continuing with Hades’ and I’s little game that was rather fun, even if I was a little shocked.

She was reminding me of Sherlock Holmes and his ability to figure out the most obscure of facts about things. It was pretty cool.

“Who is your last guess?” I asked.

“I don’t guess. I make observations and calculated decisions based on facts and statistics.” She corrected. “And it’s you. But I thought that was obvious.”

It was nice to know that I screamed bad bitch energy, even to a stranger. At least that’s what I was hoping she thought I gave off.

“Why?” I asked.

“You’re clearly the leader. A good leader wouldn’t be useless with a weapon that she carries. Plus, you don’t have the safety on your gun, which tells me you’re confident about using it enough that you don’t fear accidentally shooting yourself. And seeing as you don’t give me the impression that you’re arrogant, I have to assume that your confidence is from skill, not hubris.” She smiled again, like we were having a normal discussion. “So again, I ask what do you want with my parents if not to kill them?”

“Maybe I want to kill them later on and I’m faking it.”

She scoffed, her grin turning almost sadistic. “No. You don’t look like the sort of woman who would draw out a revenge killing – you look like a princess who would use the gun but not her hands. Your hands are clean, and your nails are perfect. Your manicure isn’t fresh either. It’s at least a week old based on the grow out, which means you don’t make a habit of using your hands a lot even if you are too busy to get a manicure every week.”

I scoffed in disbelief as Ares and Maddox came thundering back down the stairs and into the room.

“No, I like using my hands. I just haven’t had the need to for a while.” I said, as Ares glanced at his sister, his brows furrowing.

Hades bobbed her head. “A miscalculation on my part, but as I don’t know you well enough, it’s hard to establish all the facts. But regardless, I don’t think you’re here for violence, which is good. So if you would like to explain why you’re here, then we could get this meeting moving before it gets too late – I have a piano lesson in two hours and I need to wash my hair first.”

“Go do it now.” Ares ordered as he grabbed her hand and hauled her towards the stairs. “I’ll watch them.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You said she’s not a risk. So were you wrong?”

Hades glared at her brother something fierce. “I’m never wrong when I have facts.”

“Exactly. So go away and fix the state of that mop on your head.”

The pair bickered back and forth for a minute before Hades relented, and with a quick sigh, she sauntered off upstairs, leaving us all in her wake.

Ares hovered at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes had followed Hades until she was safely away, before he said, “My sister is… she’s…”

“She is perfect.” Maddox finished as he jumped into a nearby armchair, made of a dark green suede. “But she has a wicked memory and stuff. That’s why she knows so much and is good at working things out with people.”

“Photographic memory.” Misha finally spoke louder, voicing what he had been whispering to himself about. “She seems like she has that, as well as excellent observational skills that are borderline genius. So I presume she had a very high IQ as well.” He glanced at me a moment and switched to Spanish when Ares nodded to his questions and headed to the nearby wooden sideboard to grab a small black phone from one of the drawers.

“What?” Seeing the look on Misha’s face, I switched to Spanish and kept my voice low.

“John’s first wife had a photographic memory and was well documented as being exceptionally intelligent. Though the traits for the condition and being smart to that extent are rare, it seems unusual that it would pass through to what wouldn’t be her biological niece.”

I nodded, agreeing with the undertone of his thoughts. “Unless she isn’t her niece?”

“Exactly.” Misha replied, as Ares finished texting and shot us a blinding grin.

“Would you like a cuppa, then? Might as well seeing as mum’s gonna be at least forty minutes before she’s home.” He said. “It seems pointless to just sit around doing nothing, so might as well have a drink and talk about what it would take for you to let me play with one of your guns.”