Chapter 20 #2
Nolan is pacing like a caged animal, shouting wild, incoherent words as he kicks over a chair. His face is red, and his veins are bulging on his neck.
I don’t even think. I set my helmet down on the console with a dull thud.
And then I cross the room and slam Nolan into the wall.
The impact rattles the abstract painting near his head.
His breath punches out of him in a sharp grunt.
My forearm pins his throat, just enough pressure to make a point.
My arms are still speckled with blood, and it’s now rubbing along his skin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarl. The room goes dead silent. Adriana gasps. I’ve never laid my hands on him like this before.
Nolan’s eyes go wide. “You—” he chokes. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
I lean in, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath. “You looked like you were about to hit her.”
“You don’t touch me,” he hisses. “Ever.”
For a split second, I consider finishing it. Crushing his throat until the sound of his grating fucking voice stops forever. Like the wild animal finally deciding to maul its owner. But I reluctantly release him and step back.
Nolan straightens slowly, adjusting his jacket with shaking hands. His pride is bruised worse than his body. He glares at me like he’s recalculating everything he thought he owned.
Adriana doesn’t move. She just stares at the floor.
“Someone is inside my system,” Nolan snaps finally, turning away. “Accessing my database. And it's not sloppy or random. It’s a targeted fucking attack.”
My blood turns to ice, and I set my hand on the kitchen island to keep from tilting with the room. Rook.
My mind races instantly. Oh no. They didn’t give up.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I force my face to remain blank. “When?” I ask, voice steady despite the warnings screaming in my head.
“Tonight,” Nolan says sharply. “Some little jealous prick is probably pissed off that I’m working with Alexei.”
Adriana finally looks up, eyes wide and terrified. “What does that mean?”
Nolan laughs, sharp and humorless. “It means that someone is trying to access everything. Financials. Records. Files. Probably to use it against me somehow. I have someone working on combating it.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. If Rook is digging…they could figure it out. And then go after my friends. I swallow hard, already feeling the walls closing in.
The invitation comes early the next morning.
Dinner tonight at Alexei’s. Nolan’s been pacing our suite since sunrise, phone glued to his ear, barking at people whose names I don’t know and don’t care to learn.
Every few minutes, he drags a hand through his hair and mutters something about connections and overlap and exposure.
“Some of the files are shared,” he snaps into the phone. “If someone hit me, they could’ve brushed Alexei too.”
That’s the part that scares him. He’s terrified of the man, even if he acts all big and hard.
I sit on the couch with my kit open on the glass table. I cook the dose carefully, lost in my mechanical motions and trying to drown out the yelling. He woke us up way too fucking early for this shit.
Adriana curls up on the opposite end of the couch, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around herself with a blanket.
She watches Nolan pace, then flicks her gaze to me.
“He’s finally realizing,” she murmurs, so quietly it barely reaches me.
“What it means to deal with men worse than him. To deal with men who scare you.”
I snort and lean back, the needle sliding in like it knows the way home. “Yeah,” I mutter. “Welcome to the food chain, motherfucker.” The warmth hits fast and heavy, and my breath leaves me in a sigh.
Nolan spins on me mid-rant, eyes wild. “Do you know who would do this?” he demands. “Who would be stupid enough to come after me?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the words drag, thick and slow, sticking to my tongue. I don’t even bother fixing it. “Lot’a people hate you,” I say. It comes out slurred and lazy.
Nolan stares at me. Then he throws his hands up.
“Unbelievable,” he spits. “You’re goddamn useless like this.
Fucking junkie.” He storms toward the door, rage vibrating off him.
“I’ll be back later. We’re riding together to dinner.
Get your shit together. Fuck.” The door slams so hard the walls tremble.
Silence settles in after him. Finally. My head lolls back against the couch. The TV flickers with some movie I’ve seen a hundred times.
Donnie Darko.
Damn. I love this movie.
Adriana sighs and stands, moving to the kitchen. She makes two vodka cranberries without asking and sets one gently on the coffee table in front of me.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
She doesn’t respond. She just stands there, her eyes lingering on the bruises along my jaw and my split lip.
She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t really, not since the night she broke down and told me everything and cried into my chest. I’ve kept my distance since.
I don’t want her thinking I like her. I don’t.