Graham
H enry steps through the door leading to the terrace, and I follow pulling the door closed behind me. My hand lingers for a moment. Leaving her doesn’t feel right.
“It’s her dad, asshole.” I turn, half facing the door, half facing him. “I get the possessive, protective bullshit, but there is no one in the world she’s safer with.”
“Yes, there is. Me.” I snap. “He let Krista stay in her life when he should’ve taken Casey and run when she was a baby.”
Henry’s face turns to stone. His thick, inked arms cross his chest as he tries to level me with an intimidating glare. Try harder, mother fucker. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, and you fucking know it. He didn’t know she was hurting Casey. Hell, I didn’t know, and I knew when we were teenagers she was a vile, vapid bitch. But tell me, . How long have you known? Because you didn’t seem entirely surprised.”
My hand falls away from the door and both lift to my face. I scrub them over my jaw as my head falls back toward the cloudless Manhattan sky with a growl. With every truth she told—every secret revealed—my unrivaled hatred for a woman I didn’t think I could hate more grew. I knew my fingers burying into Casey’s delicate frame probably hurt, but as she spoke, the need to hide her inside of me was consuming. She’s the reason I stayed rooted to the spot instead of hunting that cunt down.
Malevolence thrums in my veins, ready to erupt like lava from a volcano that’s been dormant for eons. I want to hurt Krista like she’s hurt Casey. I want to break her. Shatter her mind, body, and spirit until she’s nothing left but dried blood and crushed bones beneath my five-thousand-dollar leather boots. Then, as she pleads for her life, because it’s the only thing she cares about, put a mother fucking bullet between her eyes.
Unfortunately, breaking the mind of a narcissistic psychopath would take too long. And you’d have to have a soul to break the spirit. But the rest… I’d do it with a smile.
“I caught Krista yelling at Casey a few times, saying things a mother should never say to her child,” I finally answer him. “I suspected more, but Casey would never admit to it.”
“So why the hell didn’t you tell Liam? Or me?” His nostrils flare as anger ripples through him. His green eyes bore into me as if he’s barely restraining himself from throwing me off the roof. I get it. Hell, I fucking respect it.
I even expected Liam’s initial reaction to me. He can hate me, blame me, whatever helps him sleep at night. I don’t care. The only person I care about is Casey. And I know now as much as I knew then, telling them wouldn’t have solved a fucking thing.
“Let’s walk through this hypothetical scenario, Henry. I only knew you by name until three years ago, but if I had—if I’d come to you or Liam—what do you think would have happened? What would you have done? You were three thousand miles away, you’re not her blood relative, and you didn’t have any financial sustainability that could’ve helped Liam. Liam would’ve filed another custody suit with the best lawyer he could afford to go against my father’s team of lawyers. Krista would’ve spun the truth to suit her. They might’ve even paid off psychologists to say Casey was distressed. I love my dad, but for too fucking long, where Krista was concerned, his views were so fucking skewed. He bought her bullshit just like Liam did. And when it went nowhere, because we both know that’s what would’ve happened, do you know who would’ve suffered?” I lift my arm and point at the door we just came through. “She is the one who would’ve gotten hurt. Casey begged me to keep quiet. She was fucking terrified Krista would’ve kept them apart, and she was right. That’s exactly what would’ve happened, along with God knows what else. She is the only one I have been concerned with, and when she was a kid, even my hands were tied. I did the only thing I could. I made sure I was around as much as possible. And it still wasn’t enough.” I walk across the small terrace and stand next to Henry. The city below bustles, not knowing that above them, a girl just revealed the heartbreak that’s plagued her for most of her life. They have no clue of the ticking time bomb ready to unleash hell on the woman that devasted not one, but two kids.
It makes me reflect for a moment, wondering how many others out there have suffered as Casey has—as Jagger has because of the reprehensible actions of those who were entrusted with their care. “Krista didn’t just hurt Casey.” I feel his questioning gaze on the side of my face, but I don’t turn. I continue to watch the people below, wondering how many others have experienced what the girl I love and my little brother have experienced at the hands of one woman. “Noah is Jagger’s. She slipped into his room. It was dark. He was on something, and this is between you and me, but Jagger is almost always on something lately. He pretends he’s not, but I can tell. Anyway, she tied him to the bed, and she fucked him. He won’t tell me, but I don’t think it was the first time. Jagger stopped staying at my dad’s—at the house he grew up in—years ago. That should’ve been my first clue something was off. He was only there that night because she was supposed to be out of town.”
When I finally face him, his brows are kissing his hair. “Holy shit. I…” He rubs his hand over his mouth as if he’s trying to remove a bad taste. “I knew Krista was a cunt, but I didn’t think she… Fuck.” He looks out over the city and back to me. “Does Casey know?”
“No. Jagger has asked us all not to say anything. He… He won’t have anything to do with Noah. He won’t see him. Refuses to hear anything about him. And there is a part of me that doesn’t blame him. He was a victim, but he doesn’t think anyone will believe it. He’s also embarrassed about it. My brother is a train wreck, but he hides it well.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure how I would handle it. I can’t imagine not claiming my kid, but this is a unique situation. How the hell has he managed not to fucking kill her?”
I lift my shoulder, exhaling hard, because I have no clue except it’s not Jagger’s nature. He’s a hothead with a nasty left hook, but he’s always preferred to avoid conflict. “I need information,” I say, getting us back on track. “Will suggested I speak with Masters.”
“Why didn’t you ask him to speak to Dominic?”
I shrugged. I didn’t have a reason, but Will knew my concerns. If he thought his brother could or would help, he would’ve suggested it.
“We don’t need to drag Maddox into anything. His brother…”
“Delrie?”
He nods. “Some shit went down with me last year. Bastian helped. Or rather, he sent one of his guys to help. I guess letting me use his private jet helped, too. The point is, they told me to call them if I ever needed anything, so I called.”
My teeth grind. It needed to be done, but I don’t fucking trust people. Henry chuckles reading my mind. “You know, I get Maddox and Ryder’s trust issues, so tell me, , who hurt you?”
I flip him off. “No one hurt me. I just know people are inherently corrupt.”
“Jaded much?”
“Aren’t you?”
He shrugs. “Maybe, but I know who hurt me,” he laughs at himself. “Well, these guys have access to shit I don’t. My security clearance only goes so far.”
“They could hold the Pentagon at gunpoint, and I wouldn’t give a fuck as long as I get what I want. And that’s Casey safe, and Krista six feet fucking under. I don’t care what it costs.”
“Oh, it will cost you something. Unless they’re feeling generous. It would serve you well to get on Maddox’s good side so that something isn’t your firstborn.” He reaches into his back pocket and comes back with a piece of folded paper. He hands it to me between two fingers.
I unfold the ripped, yellow legal paper and find a single name scrawled across it. My eyes lift, meeting Henry’s. My forehead ripples as I try to connect the dots. “This is who is bankrolling Krista.”
He leans further against the railing, nodding at the paper. “Recognize the name.”
Of course, I do. Edwin Lambert is the owner of Lambert Diamonds, an upscale jewelry boutique on Madison Avenue. It does well and is famous for its by-appointment-only demand of clientele. He can afford to help Krista—though he could never sustain her lifestyle for long—but he’s known for his reclusive nature. Multiple rumors are swirling about him, some ranging from him simply being a hermit to ties to organized crime that make him stay under the radar. Which means he’s not part of the social circles Krista is. How would they know each other like that? And why would Krista even consider going to him? Sure, he has money, but he’s not her type. Meaning his bank account is nothing to laugh at for the upper ten percent of the world, but she prefers a higher tax bracket. Something feels… off. “Why would he help her?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. And whatever the answer, it’s enough for Bastian to come here. He said he needs to speak to someone else before he can answer our questions, but he has some suspicions.”
“That doesn’t help me today.”
“No, it doesn’t, but for Bastian to come to New York…” He lifts a shoulder and starts toward the door. “My guess is it’s Mafia-related.”
“So, are we thinking Krista or Lambert has tied themselves to the Mafia?”
“Either. Both. No matter what it is, we won’t be told more than we need to know.”
“None of this makes sense, though. Why in the hell would the Mafia be interested in Krista? Or anything she offers? I can’t imagine they’d want her. And if Krista is entertaining that damn idea she had when Casey was younger, then she’s out of luck. They don’t want tattooed women.”
“My money is, if it’s Mafia-related, it’s tied to Lambert. Krista, for all her conniving ways, is fucking stupid—a manipulative, self-serving cunt, but she doesn’t see beyond what she wants. I doubt she even realizes the Mafia exists.” He waves his hand toward the door behind him. “That bitch has done nothing but wreak havoc for years. She’s ripped apart my best friend—my brother—every chance she gets. She tore apart her daughter as if she were nothing but an inconvenience. I’ve watched her get away with it all for too long.”
“Is this your way of telling me you won’t stop anything I do when the time comes?” I lift a brow, curious about his response.
He laces his fingers together, rotating his arms as he extends them in front of him. His knuckles cracking is audible. “I’m telling you whatever you end up doing, it won’t be without me.”
“You know Casey can’t find out. She’ll hold herself responsible. Fuck knows why, but she loves her mom.”
“Because it’s her mom, and she’s Casey. She would love the dog that bit her.”
I walk across the stone balcony until I pass him to the door. Before I open it, I add one more thing. “I know you’re probably at capacity, but I want more eyes on her. Can you handle that, or do I need to find someone else?” It is that or I lock Casey in this apartment indefinitely. The latter would mean telling her about Krista’s threat, however vague, and breaking her heart some more.
“Already taken care of. Casey may not be my daughter by blood, but she’s mine all the same. I’ll do whatever is needed to keep her safe.”
I nod, then rip my hand through my hair with an irritated growl. The day I get my hands on that psychopath can’t come soon enough.