Chapter 24 Bash
BASH
Cash reaches them ahead of me.
Remy is on the floor, and my stomach lurches when I see the bruising on her face. Isabella is leaning over her, with an object raised in her hand, and my legs seem to lose the ability to function as they should.
I watch as my brother pulls Isabella away from her and snatches the object from her hand. The rest unfolds slowly. Remy drags herself onto her feet, pleading with Cash to let the other woman go. She stumbles. Cash pockets the object and catches her in his arms.
And Isabella doesn’t run.
She doesn’t run.
Instead, she goes to Remy, strokes her hair away from her face, and murmurs something to my brother that I don’t quite catch.
“You’ve done enough damage.” Cash scoops Remy into his arms and backs away from Isabella. “If I find out that you did this…”
“Stop, Cash.” Remy’s arms are around his neck as I join the small group in the basement. “She didn’t do this to me. George did.”
He falters, his back muscles quivering halfway between holding her close and striding into the room next to us to show George Quinn what happens to people who hurt the ones we love.
“Cash.” I place a hand on his arm. “Let Terry handle it.”
He looks right at me, but his eyes are elsewhere, and I wonder if he’s waging battle against the images in his head of that man’s fist connecting with Remy’s beautiful face.
Isabella pushes her shoulders back and straightens her spine. “Can I have my phone back?”
“Not until I’ve downloaded every app, every fucking message you’ve ever sent in your life, every image you’ve ever taken.” My brother’s chest is heaving. “You don’t get to walk out of here with enough ammo to take us down.”
“Cash,” Remy says softly. “Give Isabella her phone. Please?”
Cash blinks Remy into focus and stares at her as if he has no idea how she got into his arms. “You don’t understand,” he says without conviction.
My twin brother. The man who would’ve tossed that phone out of his penthouse window rather than give it back, hesitates.
“I do understand.” Remy smiles at him, her arms around his neck, and something stretches taut inside me like a piece of elastic. “That phone is Isabella’s lifeline.”
Cash turns to the other woman who meets his gaze squarely.
“I have a confession from my fiancé,” she begins, “that will end the arrangement between our families.”
There is something serene about her now that I never noticed before.
When she dropped her proposal into our laps, she was cold, calculating, using the woman we love as bait to catch herself a big fish without a single qualm.
The woman standing before us now is softer somehow, lighter, as though she has shed an outer skin and set herself free.
“I won’t involve the Murray family,” she continues.
“Forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet with gratitude,” Cash says. “But I don’t trust you.”
She nods. “I understand, but I give you my word.”
“I trust her.” Remy kisses Cash’s cheek and whispers something in his ear that’s between the two of them.
A frisson of jealousy ripples through me, and I mentally shake myself.
When Remy was missing, I prayed that we would find her safe and well.
I promised whatever God is looking down upon us that I would give her and Cash my blessing and walk away if that’s what it would take to get her back.
What kind of hypocrite reneges on a deal like that?
Especially when it concerns the woman he loves.
Cash sets her down, dips his head to be sure she won’t collapse when he lets go of her arm, and retrieves Isabella’s cell from his pocket. He holds onto it for a beat too long before handing it over.
“This is for Remy. Not for you.”
Isabella smiles. “Thank you.”
Our eyes meet. I’ve hung back till now, unwilling to intervene in my brother’s reunion with Remy.
He blames himself for her abduction. He’ll beat himself up a whole lot more now that he has seen her swollen jaw and the bruising creeping up towards her eye.
She was in the Titan because of him, because he wanted to show her that we’re not bad people.
Yeah, we fucked up big time.
But I sense that Isabella Leone, the woman who wanted a fast-track into our empire, might just have salvaged what we’ve done everything in our power to destroy since Remy Jones walked into our lives.
“About your proposal,” I say.
Isabella shakes her head. “Forget it. I have everything I need right here, thanks to Remy.”
“You do?” I lock eyes with Remy, and my pulse races.
I didn’t dare think that I might never see her again.
I didn’t try to imagine my world without her in it, even if I must love her from a distance.
Because she is my world. I could walk away from the Rinse in a heartbeat, but letting her go will be like standing on a deserted island and setting fire to my boat.
Remy stands between me and Cash and takes a hand in each of hers. “Isabella has a new proposal.”
Frown lines appear between Isabella’s brows.
“You need her on board,” Remy says. “She managed to make me disappear right in front of you. Imagine what she could do with a brand-new casino.”
“Remy.” Isabella shakes her head. “You’ve done enough. I already owe you a debt that I’ll never be able to repay.”
“Sounds good to me,” Cash says.
“Wait.” I don’t know where I’m going with this, but Remy has a point. Isabella gave us the slip after the alarm went off. She found Remy, in the Titan, and held us at bay until she’d gotten what she wanted. “Maybe we should talk more.”
Isabella arches an immaculate eyebrow at me. “You’re serious? After the way I used Remy to get to you?”
“Yeah, B.” Cash addresses me but speaks to Isabella. “Enough. She said she has what she wanted. I’d quit while we’re ahead.”
“Or,” Remy intervenes, “you could just hear what she has to say. What do you have to lose?”
I offer to give Isabella a ride back to a Manhattan address while Cash takes Remy to see our private doctor.
It’s still the early hours of the morning.
It’s been the longest night of my life, but when I roll down the window and watch the streets of New York passing by, I feel invigorated by the hazy pink sneaking above the horizon, the calm before the streets fill with people and traffic, the silence occasionally punctuated by a random blast of music.
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Isabella asks.
I turn away from the city and face her. “Did you see the way she looks at my brother?”
“Sure. But I also saw the way she looks at you.”
“Yeah, well, I made a deal with God while she was missing.”
She smiles. “Are you sure God was listening?”
“He brought her back.”
“No, Bash, I brought her back.” We drift into a comfortable silence. “I’m sorry for what George did. I never wanted anything bad to happen to her, truly.”
Maybe she has caught me in a reflective moment when I’m prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt. But I believe her. Thank fuck Cash isn’t here in the car with us.
“She was hiding behind a wall panel in the bathroom.”
My smile widens. I try to picture Remy playing a sinister version of hide-and-seek, one that involves fire in a bathtub, and a mask-wearing ex-boyfriend. It’s so bizarre that I can’t help chuckling.
There is so much more to Remy Jones than either me or my brother first gave her credit for. But this woman here, the woman with her own story to tell, recognized it, and it makes my heart ache a little harder with gratitude that she didn’t let any harm come to her.
One more reason why considering an alliance might benefit everyone involved.
All I need to do is convince Cash.
“Do you love her?” Isabella asks.
I could refuse to discuss it with her. Do I really want to give her more ammunition to use against me in the future? Isabella Leone could be the best actress to never make the big screen, and this is all part of the ongoing plan.
But I find myself saying, “Yes.” I look her directly in the eye and repeat it for good measure. “Yes, I love her.”
“Have you told her?”
I think about the intimate moments we’ve shared. On the sheepskin rug and the breakfast counter. So few when I add them up, so why does it feel as if I’ve known her for a lifetime? I whispered to her in Gaelic, but did I mention love?
No. Because love at first sight is a romantic concept that only happens… to my brothers.
“Don’t be a martyr, Bash. Go tell her. See what happens.”
The car draws to a halt outside an apartment building, and Isabella covers my hand with hers. “Thank you. For being different.”
“Different? Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Take it however you want. I know how the mafia works. It’s in my blood. I’ve spent my entire life trying to fight it, and you and Cash have given me hope.” She leans closer and kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad I chose you.”
She climbs out of the car and enters the building without looking back.
“I think I’ll get out and walk,” I tell the driver.
I can’t remember the last time I walked through the city without someplace to be. It’s a whole new city when there’s no business meeting at the end of the tunnel. The glass skyscrapers are rosy in the early-morning sunshine, the sidewalks hear your footsteps, the stores slumber peacefully.
It isn’t Ireland. But it’s less claustrophobic and more hopeful.
Like anything could happen.
Go tell her. See what happens.
But there’s still Cash to consider, and if we’re considering timelines, he met Remy first.
Love has no timeline though. Love has no constraints, no blueprint, no one-size-fits-all method to follow.
I inhale deeply, expanding my diaphragm and filling my lungs. I’m starting to think like a love manual, and who’s to say that the author is an expert? Who is going to hold up their hand and validate anyone’s love story?
Plenty of people.
Perhaps judge is a more appropriate word.
So, the big question is, do I care what anyone else thinks?
No, scratch that. Do I care what anyone else thinks about Remy?
That one is a resounding yes.