Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lyra
Even though Killian tries not to show it, his stress reaches an all-time high over the next few days. He’s on his phone talking to people, in his office working, or out taking meetings virtually every second of every day.
He talks to me about any and everything. Somehow, the wall of secrets between us has fallen, and now he confides in me. How his day was. Who he talked to. That Cain still hasn’t come through, and he doesn’t know if the Nighthawks will be able to.
I’m also working every day, cutting it close to my manuscript’s deadline, but an idea starts to blossom in my head. Four days before the scheduled tribunal, I execute it.
I give Annalise a call to start, because she’s my way to the man I actually need. I still have no clue what deal she has between her and Carter, but I can figure out a way to help her out of that after I ensure Killian’s head is attached to his shoulders.
“Hello?” she picks up, sounding distracted.
“Anna, it’s me.”
There’s a slight pause. Finally, she says somewhat stiltedly, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply.
An awkward silence ensues, during which I gnaw on my lip. There’s so much I want to talk to her about, but now isn’t the time. I have my objective.
“Um… god, this is weird,” she says. “We used to see each other every day and still talk all the time. What happened to us, Ly?”
“Life,” I summarize.
“Yeah.” Another silence. “Do you, uh… need something?”
God, our relationship is going to require some seriously legwork to repair. But not right now. “Yeah, actually. I need a favor. Can you get me in touch with Carter?”
“My Carter?” Anna sounds alarmed, but nowhere near how alarmed I feel hearing her call the notorious Carter Black hers. Exactly what is their dynamic?
“It’s a work thing. Well, a Killian thing. I can’t really talk about it, but… I need to speak to him.”
“Oh. Um.” I hear Anna swallow. “Alright, but… he’s in a bad mood.”
“Can you just send me his number? I’ll deal.”
“Easier to just give you the phone,” she replies—hold on a fucking second. Is she living with him full-time?
Before I can ask, I hear a rustle, a murmur in the background, and then Carter’s dry voice comes down the line. “Lyra Stewart,” he drawls. Quieter, he mutters, “you can go.” I assume it’s to Annalise, and the casual dismissiveness rankles me.
I force myself to focus. “Carter Black.”
“Must admit, I wasn’t anticipating a call from you. I enjoy being surprised.” He misses a beat. “Shall we talk about the weather, or do you want to let me know why you’ve decided to waste my time?”
Utter. Fucking. Asshole.
“I understand you’re interested in joining The Eyes,” I say.
“So Killian’s read you in,” he says. “Incorrectly, but nevertheless. It’s not that I’m interested in joining them, sweet Lyra; it’s that they’re more desperate to have me than a hooker looking for her next hit.”
“Okay.” Jesus. How does anyone stand him? How the hell is Anna of all people caught up with him? “But… you’re considering joining, right?”
“If they weed out the bullshit going on in their ranks and vow to leave me to my personal shit, sure,” Carter says. “What they’re putting Killian through isn’t a good look. If they tried pulling that shit with me, they’d all be dead by morning.”
A nice reminder of exactly who I’m dealing with here. “I understand that certain… dealings of yours make you very good at finding information.”
“Correct.”
“And that you were the one who actually ended up finding me for Killian.” I got that little gem of information a couple of days ago. Were it weeks ago, I’d probably be furious and swearing revenge, but now… I’m not grateful exactly, but I’m also not not grateful.
“Also correct. Fuck, how pussy whipped do you have him?” Carter chuckles. “Never mind; stupid question. Answer’s obvious.”
“Are you aware there was an assassination attempt on a few weeks ago?” I ask.
“Of course. I’m aware of everything notable that happens in my city.”
“And you’re an ally of Killian’s, right?’ I hedge. “Some might say a close ally.”
“Whatever it is you want, fucking spit it out already. If I weren’t allies with Killian, I’d be charging you for this conversation.”
“I want you to help me find out who sent the assassin after him. Silas, one of Silas’s underlings—whoever it is.”
There’s a thoughtful pause as Carter considers. I wait with bated breath. This could be Killian’s best shot to get out of the tribunal alive.
“Big ask,” he drawls. “What are you going to give me in return?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I don’t know what I could have that Carter can’t get himself. Being in his debt would be an extremely dangerous, reckless move, but… if it keeps Killian alive, I don’t have another choice.
“I can pay you.” With Killian’s money, but still.
He gives a low, sardonic, mocking chuckle. “Please. Money’s worthless to me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“So glad you asked. As it happens, you’re the one person who might be able to help me with one of my endeavors regarding your friend. I need you to help convince her to marry me.”
I choke on my next breath. Literally. I fall into an embarrassing coughing fit, tears streaming down my cheeks, eyes bulging. I’m so loud that one of the guards knocks on my door and peeks his head in; I wave him away.
“What?” I finally manage to say when I’ve regained my composure.
“It’s a business arrangement,” he says flatly. “But it’s one she might be rather… hesitant to enter. She loves and trusts you.” He gives a scoff that explains just how much he values those two sentiments. “Convince her it’s a good idea.”
“I can’t do that,” I say, shaking my head.
Marrying Carter Black is not a good idea for anyone.
He’s fucking mafia. More, it sounds like he plays around between various mafias.
He’s probably one of the most dangerous men in the world, and that’s coming from me, who’s engaged to Killian fucking King.
“Of course you can. You just don’t want to. Fine difference between the two.”
“Why the hell would you want to marry Annalise?” She’s beautiful, smart, enigmatic, and a total catch, but that doesn’t explain Carter’s interest in her. He could literally have any girl in the world—I can’t understand what Anna’s appeal is.
“My reasons are my own, and they’re substantial. The arrangement would be mutually beneficial for a host of reasons. She’s simply reluctant given my reputation.”
“Rightfully so,” I say with feeling. “I… I can’t.”
“Then you can enjoy watching your fiancée get a nice bullet hole between his eyes during the tribunal. Silas has been working hard against him—his case is flourishing.” The phone rustles as if he’s going to hang up.
“Wait!” I yell, panic gripping me. “Wait.”
“You have thirty seconds to decide,” Carter says blandly.
Shit, shit, shit. If Carter treats Annalise anything like Killian treated me in the beginning… “Are you… hurting her?”
“Not in any way she doesn’t like.”
I grimace, but that tracks. “I need your word.”
“What makes you think I’ll keep it? I’m not exactly known to be a man of honor.”
Honestly? Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing that could convince me that Carter is a man of his word. My only real option is to pray that he sticks to it. But…
He has some sort of fixation on Anna. Maybe that’s enough to keep him to his word. But that isn’t enough, is it? I need something else… something more.
Something like what I uncovered about his hostile takeover that led to his development of his big legitimate imports and exports company. Some other evidence that could get him in deep shit…
“If you don’t, I will use every inch of what I’ve learned from my years as an investigative journalist to dig into you.
Your financials, specifically. I will find what everyone else has missed, I will compile it into a report, and then I’ll send it to the IRS, SEC, FBI, and everyone else that can make your life a living hell.
And I’ll start with Castell Luxury Group.
More specifically, the pieces of Harbor if it goes well, he’ll be back at some point. If it doesn’t, as I understand it, I’ll be ushered out of the country on his private jet.
“Don’t be,” he says, smooth confidence shining through. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“You don’t know that,” I say, gaze lingering on his collarbone, where an angry red scar is raised.
Not too long ago, Silas tried to send an assassin after him.
The Eyes are dangerous, and this long-standing rivalry between him and Silas will end up with one of them dead tomorrow.
And if Killian dies, what happens to me?
Even if I get out of the country safely… I don’t want to go on without him.
He climbs into bed beside me, laying down flat on his back. I cuddle into him immediately, slinging a leg over his and hiding my face in his shoulder. He smiles into my hair.
“It’ll be fine because I refuse to lose this. I refuse to lose you. Cain will come through.”
And if he doesn’t, Carter will come through. But if neither of them do… it’s up in the air. It comes down to how Spencer votes, and he sounds like ever the bureaucrat. He’s by the book; Killian bent the book’s rules.
“Shouldn’t have Cain already come through?” I ask quietly.
“His deadline is 12am,” Killian says. “I have something he very badly needs. He’ll do what he has to.”
I glance at the clock on the night stand, swallowing hard.
It’s 11:30pm.
For the next half hour, I watch the clock tick by in silence, trickling down minute by minute. I thought Killian fell asleep, but when 12am strikes, he gets out of bed.
“Stay here,” he says when I move to get up with him. “Rest. I’m just going to check my computer in my office.”
I wait with tense muscles and bated breath until he comes back ten minutes later, a grim expression on his face.
“And?” I prod.
He swallows hard. “He got a bank account, but it belongs to a series of shell corps owned by a Russian Oligarch.”
I frown. “A… Russian oligarch tried to have you killed?”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t do business with Russians. Someone asked him to do this on their behalf. It’d take Cain’s man at least a few more days to get through that man’s security, dig into his activity to find out who asked him to have me killed.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. So, basically, he has nothing. No real defense at the tribunal tomorrow.
“You know who did business with the Russians on behalf of the U.S. Government for some time?” Killian asks.
I meet his eyes, breath catching as it clicks into place.
“Spencer?”
“Spencer,” he nods. Lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Janus. The two-faced fuck.”
My eyes sting with oncoming tears. “So… that’s three votes against you. If Spencer was the one who sent the assassin…”
“Unless I can flip Ryan last minute.” Killian straightens. “I’ll be working through the night, I’m afraid. See if I can somehow stall the judges tomorrow with this information.”
I think we both know the chances of that working when he has a count of potentially three out of five judges against him.
He leaves the room; I lower my head into the pillow and weep.