27. Bradley
brADLEY
Her words of hatred are loud and strong but they lack conviction. Zira’s trying to cling to reason right now, even if it’s twisted, but I’ll let her if it helps her feel better. There’s nothing I want more than for her to feel better.
“You’re right,” I say softly, cupping her face with my damp hand and gently swiping some of her tears away.
“You should hate me. And you’re allowed to grieve.
He may have lied and done terrible things to you, but he’s still your brother.
You raised him. You cared for him. You’re allowed to feel how you feel. ”
Her face crumples and she pulls away, burying her head in her hands.
Soft sobs rack her body and send ripples through the water, and my heart breaks.
No wonder she considers sex to be nothing more than a transaction and her days of utter numbness barely crack the surface of the pain she’s surely in.
My entire time knowing her has been filled with her determination to save her brother.
All this time, he was dead.
My heart sinks. The remains gathered from the bottom of that cliff when we cleaned up were busted beyond all recognition and I had no reason to demand confirmation of identity.
This is just as much my fault, and that guilt nestles like a sharp thorn underneath my ribs.
I focus on helping wash the rest of her body and hair, keeping my movements slow and tender as she wrestles with her tears and her sobs.
As the water grows cool, goosebumps race up and down her arms, so I quickly lift her out of the tub and bundle her in the thickest, fluffiest towel I can find.
“Will you eat something? I can bring soup, pasta… a smoothie?”
Carrying Zira back to bed, she pushes me away when I set her down and clutches at the towel around her body. “I’m not hungry,” she says hoarsely. “Just tired.”
“You need to eat.” It’s difficult not to be stern, and it slips slightly into my tone, making her glance up at me.
“Fine. Anything.”
“Okay. There are clothes in your closet if you want to get dressed.”
She nods and her shoulders slump as she wipes her eyes.
Distance is likely needed right now, so once I’m certain she’s not going to crumple apart again, I leave her room and stroll down to the kitchen.
Cassian’s already inside, dancing to some soft flute music while tossing a vibrant salad in a bowl.
As soon as he sees me, he quickly turns the music down.
“How is she?”
“Devastated.” I sigh deeply, dragging one hand down my face. “Everything is such a mess. That man I killed? At the cliff, you remember? It wasn’t this fucking Harris cunt. It was her brother.”
Cassian stops his mixing and stares at me. “You’re serious?”
I nod, moving past him to the fridge. “Turns out Harris is alive and well and out there somewhere, probably with the rest of the diamonds. I didn’t get to ask her what happened in the house, but given how she’s been since, safe to say that’s where she found out the truth.”
“Holy shit.” Cassian turns to face me and pulls himself up onto the counter. “What are you going to do?”
“I want to kill him.” From the fridge, I pull one of Raven’s pre-made smoothies, certain she won’t mind.
“Not just for manipulating things and nearly killing me, but everything that’s happened to her since?
Everything that’s still going on plus all the shit with the Irish and the Cartel?
I’m…” The fridge closes softly behind me.
“I’m fucking pissed and I have nowhere to put it right now. ”
“Direct it at the Irish,” says Valentina as she enters the kitchen. Placing her tablet down on the island counter, she slides it toward me.
“The Irish?” Catching it, I set down the smoothie and tap the screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Chris and Dex Campbell, the two Irish ‘cops’ that tried to kill you and Frank.”
“Those tattoos were real?”
“Mmhmm. Damian’s clan as well.”
“Motherfucker.” I skim through the morgue picture and enlarge the tattoos with a few taps. “He actually tried it. Is he fucking with me? Does he really think he can threaten me? Try to kill my driver?” As much as I fight it, my voice lifts enough for Cassian to raise his brows with a smirk.
“Didn’t know you had that in you, Boss.”
Tossing the tablet down on the counter, I step back and run both hands through my hair. “Fuck.”
“Want me to kill him?” Valentina leans on the counter with one elbow and turns her palm up to rest her chin. “Just nip him in the bud right now.”
“You know we can’t do that,” I mutter. “As much as I want to. We’re supposed to be better.”
“Yeah, and it never gets personal.” Valentina scoffs. “Maybe he’s just trying to scare us. Not that it worked, but Damian’s a desperate man.”
“Desperate or not, no one pulls a gun on my driver and fucking walks away.” Forcing a deep, calming breath, I wrestle with myself. If Damian is this desperate, then he’s a real problem that needs to be dealt with immediately, but Zira needs me too, and tracking down Harris is key to everything.
“What’s he so desperate about, anyway?” Cassian asks, bringing his salad bowl into his lap. “This deal was his own doing and it’s his own fault if it falls through, right?”
“It would be that simple, but there are countless families underneath him. Letting the Cartel topple him would be like kicking the leg out from a three-legged table.” Valentina groans.
“He’s important, and for good reason, but he’s so fucking stupid.
I mean, the way these amateurs robbed the docks in the first place? ”
“The stupidity of it is why it worked,” I cut in. “Men like Damian prepare for high-end criminals, not dumb thieves chancing something stupid.”
“True.” Valentina pushes up from the counter. “So, what’s the plan?”
The plan.
My mind weaves countless plans together, but no matter how good they seem, I’m stuck on one thing. Zira. She’s the key to finding Harris, I’m sure of it, but until she’s feeling better, she’ll be of little help.
“Alright. Valentina, I need you to touch base with Damian. Make it very clear that we killed his men and any kind of threat will not be tolerated. We’ll deal with his retribution later.
Keep an eye on the diamonds but watch him like a hawk.
I want to know everything he’s doing and see if there’s a way to appease the Cartel with the half we have. ”
“Sure thing. Raven’s busy cataloging the ones we have right now. Should help in easing the Cartel’s worries that Damian’s trying to screw them over.” She pops her lips and wiggles her fingers at Cassian, then bounces from the kitchen.
“You need my help?” Cassian asks, nibbling from his bowl.
“I dunno. I need to get this to Zira before she loses her will to eat.”
“Sure.” Cassian looks me up and down as I pick up the smoothie. “You’re taking care of yourself, though, right?”
“Of course I am.”
Back out in the hall, the walk back to Zira gives me time to think.
We have a lot riding on these diamonds. The second the Cartel gets impatient, we risk blood spilling on the streets, which creates an insane headache for the rest of us.
The only reason the Suit works is because everyone walks away with a piece of the pie, the government included, but when someone who refuses to acknowledge our power gets involved, it gets messy.
Really fucking messy.
Back in Zira’s room, she lies on the bed with her arms wrapped around a pillow. Dressed in a thick hoodie and track pants from the closet, I’m pleased she’s warm.
“Here. It’s one of Raven’s so it’s bound to have a billion good things in it and still taste good,” I say as I set the bottle down on the bedside table. “Please drink it.”
“I’m not a child,” Zira replies and she rolls over, eyeing me and then the drink.
“I know,” I say softly. “But you’re hurting. And I’m here to take care of you.”
“Pretty fucked up considering you killed my brother.”
Again, her words sound like a lash out, but she’s still lacking the heat behind it, not that I mind. “Think of it as my reparations to you.”
“A smoothie for a brother?” Her lip curls in disgust. “Whatever.” She still takes the bottle and rolls back over.
I’ll take that as a win.
Having her talking and eating again is a definite improvement.
I excuse myself with a nod and a small smile and head back into the hall, leaving the door ajar as an invitation for Zira to leave her room.
She doesn’t take it. My phone links me to the CCTV, and she remains in bed, but she’s drained the smoothie at record speed as if her appetite has come roaring back to life.
Baby steps.
“Bradley?” Ruslan’s voice rises beside me and his hand appears on my chest, using that grip to sidestep me before I accidentally walk into him.
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
“It’s cool. You alright?” Ruslan’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks me over. “You look tired.”
“Long day. Long… week.”
“I heard about Zira and her brother. I’m sorry.” He winces and pats my shoulder. “You need anything?”
“No, I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I ignore his question and instead pinch the front of his silk shirt. “You’re dressed up?”
“Dinner with Ivy. Meeting some people from her work who most definitely don’t know who I am or what I do, so I have to pretend to be normal.”
“The price of love,” I say with a smile. “Have a good night.”
“You too.” Ruslan ducks his head and hurries toward the elevator.
Watching him go, my gut tenses slightly, so I call out to him. “Be careful, Ruslan.”
He reaches the elevators and turns. “I always am.”
“I mean it. I want you back here safe. After what happened with Frank…”
“Trust me,” Ruslan calls back as the elevator doors open. “You won’t be needing a new Ace in your lifetime.” With a wink, the doors close.
I wander back to the kitchen where Cassian’s depositing his vibrant salad into seven small containers. “For Raven?” I ask as I head for the coffee machine.
“Yeah. She’s working round the clock on those diamonds at the garage, and I wanna make sure she stays fed.”
“Beyond protein bars and pizza?”
“Exactly.” Cassian grins.
Setting the coffee to strong, I then join Cassian and help him drizzle his homemade dressing over the salads. “I need your help.”
“With?” Cassian doesn’t look up, but I can tell all his attention is on me.
“Zira. I want to take her somewhere to recover. Somewhere that isn’t here or close to her home or any of this shit. She needs… space.”
“Is that safe?” he asks, finally looking up at me.
“No. But it’s worth the risk if it brings her back into herself.”
Cassian’s soft smile turns a little sly. “Back to herself or back to you?”