Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Angel
I have no idea what Promise thinks about me stomping out of the apartment, but as I make my way down the stairs, I absolutely thud my way down.
Making noise lets out some of the pent-up aggression I’m feeling.
Was it just this morning that I had a naked Promise in my arms? Fuck me. I’m on my way back to the conference room, when Knox steps out of my fucking office. His pierced nostrils flare as he cracks his knuckles. “We need to talk to you.”
I keep walking.
I am the head of this family. I give the orders, not the other way around.
In the conference room is a buffet of liquor. We always keep a few bottles in there, but it had been stocked for the makeshift bachelor party.
Pouring myself a stiff bourbon, I swig it back in one swallow.
I hear my brothers file in, but I don’t turn around as I refill the drink and toss a second back.
“Where is Axel?” I ask, now knowing that his absence is significant.
“He said that he needed to know more and left,” Rock answers.
“More about what?”
“Didn’t say,” Knox picks up the conversation, sitting on the tabletop. “But I’m sure he’s trying to find a way out of the shitstorm that’s about to hit us.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“We were behind you on the Vigo front.” Gunner gives me a hard stare. “But this plan of yours to beat out Vincent for top seat is going to get all of us killed.”
“You say it like beating Vincent is a bad idea. We do not want to answer to that guy or pay him for the privilege of running our business.”
They all grimace. Gunner runs his hand through his hair. “Axel told us what you agreed to do. About Promise.”
Rock makes a guttural noise deep in his throat. I turn to him, looking for a fight. “Don’t grunt like you agree. Yesterday you tried to burn her.”
Rock takes a step toward me, squaring off. “Yeah. That’s the same as agreeing to kill your wife.”
“Keep your fucking voice down. And I didn’t agree to anything. Not yet.”
“You took her. That’s a contract in and of itself, because you knew the terms,” Knox answers. “And the alternative is screwing over New York’s next governor. You don’t have enough power to fight that shit, Angel. Not even close.”
Fuck. He’s right.
I roll my head, cracking my neck. Because while I haven’t signed anything, I did shake Don’s hand, and then I kept his daughter.
Not that I owe anything to that piece of shit, but when I haven’t had anything in this world, I’ve had my word, and it means something. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Send her back.”
“No,” Gunner spits. “We’re not doing that.”
“That is my answer to give,” I snarl. “You got eyes for Promise?”
Gunner steps up to me, bumping his chest again mine. “Fuck off, Angel. Don’t get pissy because I’m drawing a line you should have.”
I push him. Hard. Which feels fantastic.
He flies back, only stopping when he hits the table. But before he can recover, I’m on top of him, my fist coming down toward his face.
He jerks his head to the left, my knuckles hitting the table with enough force that the wood groans, my knuckles splitting open.
I dimly register the pain as Gunner pushes me off. I stumble before I crash to the floor. He lunges for me, but I recover and roll, his own weight hitting the cement floor with enough force that I hear his shoulder crack.
Knox and Rock jump in then, Rock getting in front of me as Knox holds Gunner down. Both Rock and Knox are fighters, and Gunner and I aren’t beating them to then face off with each other.
I don’t even try.
A few punches and my brain is clearing. I wipe my mouth as Gunner tries to throw Knox off. But he’s yelling at me.
“I don’t want to fuck your woman, dipshit. But I’ve been to hell and back to protect my sister, and I won’t be in the business of using an innocent woman to get ahead.” He stops fighting Knox to glare at me. “And I thought you were a better man than that.”
Those words hit me like an anvil. “We’re fucking drug dealers. We own a chain of whorehouses. We use women all the time.”
“Fuck that,” Gunner spits. “We protect those women. They’d be on the streets or with dirty pimps without us. We keep it fair and we keep them safe.”
I had no idea Gunner felt this way, I thought he beat up shitty Johns because he liked violence.
And I thought I had no emotion left at all. I was wrong on both counts.
I scrub a hand down my face. “The contract come through?”
“Yeah,” Rock answers. “It came.”
“Can I read it?” I ask, irritation lacing my voice again. Because I’m tired of this conversation.
“You’ll bleed all over it. Go upstairs and have your woman clean up your hand,” Gunner answers, spitting blood on the floor.
Are they not planning on sharing it with me? “You know I can just have Don fax another.”
Rock punches my shoulder. Hard. “I could break your hand so you can’t sign.”
“You in the business of protecting women too?”
“I’m in the business of protecting myself. And my brothers, asshole.” He hits me again.
This time I hit back, using his shirt to wipe off some of the blood on my knuckles while I do it. Hurts like hell.
“Shit.” He looks down at the sleeve of his white T-shirt. “I just bought this.”
That’s brothers for you.
I turn away, stomping to my office, and find the stack of papers, stuff them in a case before I take it outside and toss the case in the trunk of my car.
Then I’m back inside and stomping my way, once again, up to the apartment. Barging in, I find Promise where I left her, lying in the bed in the little white tube dress, her bare legs stretched out, as she lifts up on her elbows. She eyes me, looking uncertain and irritated.
Which is fine. I’ll still like this better than the way she shut me out before. “I could use some first aid?” I grunt, holding up my hand.
She gasps, scrambling up on her knees.
“It’s fine. Gunner and I got into it.”
She cocks her head in question.
“Turns out you remind him of his sister or some shit.” I probably shouldn’t have told her that Gunner holds some allegiance to her. But I’m tired of this day and deep down, I think Promise is right. I think I’m going to have to choose between her and her father.
And while her father holds the key to what I want out in the world, Promise is what I want most in my bed.
It’s a battle between my dick and my brain.
She pushes up, kneeling on the bed as she reaches for my hand, softly pulling my bleeding knuckles toward her to examine my wounds.
As her head bends, her soft blown-out curls brush my arm, her hand looking so pale next to the much darker tone of my skin.
Her touch is soft and gentle, it makes me fucking ache as she brushes her fingers over the back of my hand. I already know what I want to do.
My brothers are going to kill me.
And what it’s going to mean for me and Promise…
That shit could get complicated.