Chapter 33
It’s uncomfortable as fuck here, and the pain in my side isn’t helping one bit.
The five of us were almost at Imperia’s exit, but an elite interrupted our path by approaching Cignette and deciding to engage in small-talk with her.
It’s a relief that my crew and I were a few steps behind her, and were able to take cover behind the foyer’s stairs before we could be spotted.
Still, I’d have much rather gotten out of here than hide and spend another moment inside this fucking hotel.
Rizwana’s attack had been an unwelcoming surprise.
Me of all people knows how deadly some of the mundane things we use in our day-to-day lives, can be.
I killed my mother with a goddamn nail file, for fuck’s sake, so for Rizwana to use a hair accessory – most definitely custom-made for her protection – is kinda plausible.
Unexpected, too, but I guess that was one of the intentions with which it was made.
I glance at Cignette again, and scowl at the sleazebag who just won’t let her go.
She’s trying to wrap up their conversation by physically stepping away from him, but he keeps shifting closer to her.
If I wasn’t feeling like I could drop and fall asleep at any moment, I’d have cut the fucker open. But alas, he gets to live.
I give Alex, who is standing next to me, a once over. “I thought you didn’t want any blood on your Tom Ford,” I tell him, then jerk my head at his chest, where Rizwana’s blood is splattered over his shirt, and the lapels of his jacket. “This looks an awful lot like the opposite.”
He rolls his eyes. “First of all, shut the fuck up, and secondly, no one hurts either of you assholes and gets to live, so yeah. Tom Ford be damned; that bitch deserved what I served.”
I smirk and ruffle his hair. “That is true.” I then click my tongue and gesture vaguely at Cignette. “Text her and ask her to change the exit route,” I say. “Ask her to move towards the kitchen.”
He nods. “You got it.” He pulls his phone out and does as I’ve asked.
I shift under Jayce’s hold and try not to curse as a throbbing pain ignites my left side.
Fuck Rizwana and her dead ass.
Cignette’s phone pings with a text, and I watch as she pulls it out, reads the message, and then looks up at her admirer with an apologetic smile.
She tells him she has to go, and he nods and gives her a lust-filled grin before finally getting out of her personal space.
She touches his arm and says goodbye, and I grit my teeth when the asshole takes that as an opportunity to check her out.
Cignette pivots on her feet and beelines for the kitchen, relief clear on her face.
I step out of Jayce’s hold. “I’ll manage on my own until we’re outside,” I tell him. “Don’t want the waiting staff to get suspicious.”
His jaw ticks – a clear sign that he wants to protest. He doesn’t, though, and instead just nods.
I start making my way towards the kitchen, and with each press of my left shoe on the carpeted floor, pain shoots through my side. It’s hard not to let it affect my gait, but I’m trying. I know I’m limping a little, but we’re very close to getting out of here, so I can’t fucking slow down now.
We reach Cignette, who is standing outside the kitchen. She gives me an uncertain look when she sees me walking on my own, but I give her a nod and gesture behind her. She sighs and turns, then pushes open the kitchen’s revolving door before leading me and the crew inside.
Every single staff member stops what they’re doing when they see her, and a chorus of “Good evening, Miss Adler” and “Can I get you something, ma’am?” fills the room as Cignette clears a path for us.
None of the staff even remotely notices me or the crew; they’re all too busy swooning over Cignette.
And, as we reach the kitchen’s exit, I notice that a few of them sigh in evident longing when Cignette passes them by.
If this moment could be played in slow-motion, it’d make for a hilarious SNL act, and if I wasn’t so damn amused by these fuckers, I’d have pulled their sockets out of their heads and shoved them into their drooling mouths.
I’m full of threats tonight when it comes to my Little Swan, aren’t I?
Cignette hurries out into 17th Ave, then turns right.
The crew and I follow her, and now that I’m walking on rock-hard ground, the pain in my side has only multiplied. But thankfully, Jayce wraps an arm around my waist and guides my steps forward.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I tell him.
“I’d rather you not fall on your ass and make a fool out of yourself,” he jokes, but I can see the guilt on his face for how things turned out during the kill.
“Beating yourself up about what happened won’t change shit, Jay.”
He meets my eyes. “It won’t, but it’ll help me hate myself for what I let happen, at least.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Varsha says. “It was an accident; it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was stupid – that’s what it was,” he spits out.
“And it’s in the fucking past,” Alex adds. “We dealt with it, and it’s over. No reason to let it overcome the present.”
Jayce doesn’t respond to that, but he does relax his posture a little.
The last thing I want him to feel is guilt. We weren’t aware that Rizwana was armed, nor had we hoped that she’d fight back. It’s things like this that make our job unpredictable, and even though I prefer to avoid collateral damage, in this case, I’m glad it was me and not Jayce or the others.
We enter the parking lot, and Cignette suddenly stops short when she sees Solo ahead of us. He’s leaning against his SUV, and when he glances up and sees her, his expression morphs from one of worry to one of complete stupefaction.
He instantly glares at me, knowing without words that Cignette’s presence here is on my account, but I shake my head at him.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I raise a brow and shake my head again.
He clenches his jaw, and his nostrils flare as he continues to glare at me, but he thankfully says nothing.
I nod at Jayce, and he lets me go. Grunting a little, I make my way to Cignette, and place a hand on her lower back. “Hey.”
She looks up at me. “He wants to kill me, doesn’t he?”
I grin. “If he does, then I’d love to see him try.”
Solo scoffs, making me grin wider.
“Did you drive here?” I ask Cignette.
“No. Uncle Chase had one of our Limos pick me and Mave up.”
I nod. “I can drop you home,” I tell her, to which she immediately shakes her head.
“I’m coming with you.”
“But your bodyguard–”
“Won’t be a problem,” she says. “I’ll talk to him.”
As if on cue, her phone rings, and when she pulls it out of her purse and looks at it, I know it’s Maverick before she can even confirm it.
“It’s him,” she says, then excuses herself and walks towards the other side of the lot to receive the call.
I reach my Harley – that’s parked next to Solo’s SUV – and take a sharp breath in before quickly straddling it. It’s only when I settle onto it that the ache from my wound registers again, but I try not to let it get to me and pull my keys out of my pocket.
“You sure you good to drive?” Solo asks. “Varsha or Alex can bring it over instead if you’re not comfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, then push my hair back and stretch my neck side to side.
A bout of silence follows, and I watch as Jayce, Alex, and Varsha get into the former’s jeep, while Cignette continues to speak on the phone. Her voice has elevated a little, and even though I can’t make out what she’s saying, it’s obvious that her and Maverick are having an argument.
“You know you’ve messed up, right?” Solo says after a while.
I smirk at him. “I knew I’d fucked up, and was utterly fucked, when I first got a taste of her.”
Solo’s jaw tightens at my words, and he purses his lips a little. “She’s an Adler, Dor. A fucking Adler.” He sighs and places his hands on his hips. “It could have been anyone – anyone but her.”
“But it is her,” I tell him, and make sure I’m looking him in the eyes while I do it. “It’s her, Solo, and nothing you say to me is going to change that.”
He searches my face, then snorts and shakes his head. “You’re fucked,” he muses, then chuckles. “Goddamn you, Dor. You’ve dug a hole for yourself, and now the rest of us will fall right into it with you and your little Barbie.”
I scowl. “Why do you guys keep calling her that?”
He seems confused by my question. “Keep calling her what?” he asks.
“A Barbie,” I sneer.
“Because she fucking looks like one,” Solo states. “Pink hair and shit – I don’t know.”
I roll my eyes. “How insightful.”
“You fucking asked.”
“My bad.”
He pauses and looks at me. “I’m serious, though; you’re putting the entire crew in danger.”
“They know what they’re getting into,” I say. “Besides, you know I wouldn’t have risked things if she didn’t mean shit.”
He crosses his arms across his chest. “And why, exactly, is she the shit?” he asks.
“Because she’s a reflection of who I used to be,” I answer easily. “And I may sound crazy, but I find myself being...I dunno, gravitated towards her every time we’re together. Like calls to like, and all that.”
Solo sighs again. “I get–”
“Dorran?”
Cignette walks over to me, and even though she seems troubled, she gives me a barely-there smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she says to Solo, then looks at me again. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”
I push a few errand strands of her hair behind her ear. “He’s pissed at you, isn’t he?” I ask, but only because I don’t like the idea of her being upset.
She lifts a shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly receptive to his concerns, so he’s got every right to be mad.”
“What reason did you give him anyway?” I question. “I can’t imagine he let you go that easily.”
She swallows. “I told him I was going home with a potential sponsor.”
“The supposed sponsor’s home, you mean?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Did he ask for a name?”
Cignette bites the inside of her cheek and shifts on her feet. “I made one up.” When I lift a brow in silent demand, she exhales in exasperation and says, “Ivan Caruso.”
I smirk. “Yikes.”
She rolls her eyes. “Shut your face; it’s the only one that came to mind at the time, okay?”
“And what a name it is,” I say. “Full-on mafia vibes.”
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and Solo coughs in the background.
“Be grateful, you stunted dick,” she tells me. “I’m doing this for you.”
“I know.” I run my eyes over her tensed shoulders, and the sweat on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to contradict your intentions.”
“Don’t.” She clicks her tongue and licks her lips. “I just…I didn’t mean to snap. I’m fucking sorry.”
“Hey.” I lift her chin. “You can change your mind,” I tell her honestly. “I can still drop you to the estate.”
She shakes her head, and her posture slackens. “I’m coming with you,” she repeats herself from before. “I just…I need to know you’ll be okay.”
“He’s too stubborn to die on us, don’t worry,” Solo adds, and earns a glare from Cignette in return.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Chris,” she says to him. “For your own safety.”
Solo blinks at her – a little dumbfounded by her threat.
I chuckle, then put the key into my Harley’s ignition before twisting the throttle. “Hop on, Little Swan,” I tell Cignette, “before Maverick tracks your phone and fucks shit up for us.”
She lifts her dress and straddles the Harley. “Well, he can fucking try, that stubborn asshole.”
I chuckle again. My God, she’s on fire tonight. And it’s hot. All kinds of hot.
“Atta girl,” I praise, then turn the Harley around with a resounding screech before speeding it out of Imperia’s parking lot.