Chapter 33
HAYES
What the fuck—
He’s got a firm hand on the back of my date’s neck, holding her still. She glares ahead, not at me, but at being caught. At him touching her.
He has a death wish. He has his filthy, deranged hands all over someone who is pure starlight on Earth—and mine. Taking one step forward, my vision turns red and I imagine Roman’s lifeless body at my feet.
“Little brother,” he greets, and Collins recoils in disgust. “Let’s move to a more private area, hm? We have a few things to discuss.”
Can I move quick enough to grab her before then? Glancing to his hand, I weigh the options. I’ll take a bullet for Collins but I will not let her be hurt because of me. “You’re knocking on death’s door,” I retort, lips barely moving. “You’re touching my wife. I’ve killed men for less.”
“You mean my wife. She’ll need to get used to the feel of my hands on her skin.” Collins shudders and my heart skips a beat, bile on my tongue.
“The only thing of yours she’ll get used to, is your blood sprayed on her skin.” I raise my gun. “Let her go.”
Roman smiles wide, a Cheshire cat with a story to tell and jerks her forward just to piss me off. Stumbling, she grunts and there, at her spine, I see Roman’s gun pressed deep.
He’s holding her at gunpoint. I can’t shoot him—not without risking her. And that’s not an option.
I’ve never felt more useless, not since I was in that blue room of Hell.
Grabbing hold of the absolute ruthless urge to rip his head off his body, I replace my gun and point to a gallery behind us that’s been cleared out for viewers. “We’ll go to the Yellow Room.”
“Lead the way,” he replies, sweetly. But I know it’s a trick. By putting me in front, I can’t grab Collins—not without that gun going off. If I didn’t hate my brother so much, I’d be impressed with his foresight.
Winking at Collins, I soothe, “Forever and a day.”
She shakes her head, lost. “What?”
“It’s my promise to you.” I glance back at Roman but he’s looking at the crowd, keeping the gun down but still snug against her spine. “I get forever and a day with you. When this is over.” A promise that doesn't end with Roman. That it’ll end after we’ve had our forever plus one more day.
I’ve come too far not to have that much with her.
Licking her lips, she hears my unvoiced explanation. “Okay. Forever and a day.”
Carefully, we weave our way through the people, under the archway and into the courtyard. The skies are darkening, a cool air ruffling a few of my fallen strands as we walk the middle. The sweet scent of hanging nasturtiums hovers in the air and I inhale, glancing back to my viper.
She coiled like a snake, not letting Roman have more than he has. If she had my blade, she’d slice from his neck to his gut for daring to touch her.
We reach the Yellow Room, the exhibit empty. The bright, flowered wallpaper and the hanging portraits catch my eye before I’m spinning, catching Collins as she’s shoved into my arms.
Clinging to me, I hold tight as Roman levels his gun on us, snarling, “She did this.”
Tucking her behind my back, I slip her my knife. I keep my brother in my sights, feeling Collins heat behind me. If I go down, I don’t want her defenseless.
“Who did what, Roman?” I look from his shaking hands to his sweaty brow. His eyes dance between us, to the door and back. Something’s off. My brother is an idiot on his best day, but he’s calmer than this. This reeks of insanity and desperation.
“She went after my money.” His dark eyes glint—the same way our father’s would before he’d send a new man into my room. “Was it part of your little bitch Captain’s Games?”
“Innovation,” I smirk. Hey, if he wants to wave a gun around, maybe I can piss him off enough to get the upper hand.
“Going after your storehouses and money without any tools. We all had to think on our feet.” Pulling up my pant leg, I show him the bandage, a drop of red bleeding through. “Took a bullet for it.”
“You’re going for second?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “My own blood coming after what I built?”
“Blood?” I snort. “Blood doesn’t do what you did to me—what our father did to me. You’re lucky I’m playing by Ace’s rules, otherwise I’d cut every single one of you like the fish of the day.”
“And let’s be honest,” Collins comments from my side, voice strong. “You didn’t build anything. Your family did. You were just handed the keys because your father was put in jail.”
I can’t stop the smile. Witness tampering. It was as pathetic as the man behind bars.
Roman glowers down at her, and I step in front. “Nuhuh. Don’t look at her.”
“It’s your bitch Captain’s fault he’s even in there.” He seethes, gesturing with his Glock. “I can’t fucking prove it, but I know it. She set him up.”
I scoff. Maeve would never go to the cops—even to off an enemy.
“What do you want, Roman?” I ask, edging one step closer. He’s so incensed, mad with anger, he doesn’t see me move. He is losing it. “You came all this way for something. What is it?”
I take another step as he laughs, a strangled noise.
“She took out an entire fucking unit.”
“Shouldn’t have gone after her family.”
“You’re going to sign the contract,” he says, pointing at Collins behind my back. To give her credit, she doesn’t wither under the weapon, but stands taller. “You’re going to agree to this and get that fucking psycho off my back.”
If he can force the alliance, by shoving a gun in Collins’ face, he can keep Maeve from wrecking destruction as the Games progress. He gets Maeve and the clan—he gets Collins.
Not a fucking chance.
I wait for him to turn to grab the rolled-up contract from his suit, pushing the gun high, before swinging with my left. I connect with one good punch, hearing the crunch of my brother’s nose. I recoil internally. That’s like his third broken nose of his lifetime.
He falls immediately and I wrestle the Glock from his small hands. There’s a snap, wrist bone cracking under the pressure before he howls, and the gun is in my possession.
Cradling his nose, rolling on to his side, I disarm the gun, popping the bullet out before it can discharge. Tsking, I shove it into my waistband. “Well, this is just sad.” Leaning over him, I pat his cheek, slapping him into the hardwood floor.
I don’t have a lot of time. We’re lucky we haven’t been caught yet.
“Senior’s heir, disarmed by the kiddie, huh?
” I kick his side, smiling at his exhale of pain.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” I mimic.
“You’re going to stay the fuck away from my fiancée, and you’re going to stay away from my family.
” Kneeling low, I continue, “You better hope Ace is in a forgiving mood. Otherwise, she might look for more retribution for you fucking with her little sister. Again.”
“You broke the agreement,” he wheezes, shuffling on the floor. “I can kill you on sight.”
He jerks, pulling a blade as Collins shouts, yanking on my shoulders.
His blade connects, dragging along my forearm, cutting deep as wicked agony ignites along my nerves. Jesus, fuck, I’m tired of being injured. Growling, I react, slamming my fist into his face as he passes out.
“I should fucking kill him,” I grumble, blood dropping to the wood.
“Shit,” Collins curses. Her face remains calm but her fingers twitch as she inspects my arm. “Shit.”
“Yeah, got that,” I quip. Blood is flowing too quickly—he hit something important. This is not good.
“No shit,” she stresses. “He hit an artery.” I feel my shoulder and chest start to throb, a pain like pounding thunder spreading outward. Blinking, I clear the blackness starting to creep it. “Are you wearing a belt?”
Nodding, I can barely say the words before she’s yanking it off, wrapping it around my elbow. With a sudden ruthlessness, she tugs the belt tight and my fingers go numb.
At my confused look, she exhales. “Tourniquet. You have an hour at most before this is a problem. We have to get back to the mansion and have Simon patch you up.”
“Can’t you?”
“Technically,” she admits, grabbing the knife from Roman and his cell phone before shoving them into her clutch. Quick thinking. I can have Briar break into it and see what kind of information is on that thing and if it can help Ace.
He was a moron to come here without guards. But the pressure—from Maeve, the Games, maybe even Senior—is driving Bruno mad. It’s causing too many close calls. He’s sloppy and that makes him a bigger threat than before.
“Then, why don’t you?”
“Simon has more experience,” she evades, wrapping my jacket around my arm to hide the wound. “He should do it so as not to cause any permanent damage.”
“It’s Simon,” I retort, as we exit the museum. “He makes everything worse.” Glancing to the courtyard, I jerk my head. “Besides, what about this? You’re presenting.”
“And you’re injured.” She pulls the keys from my pocket, helping me on the sidewalk to the car, ignoring the valet. “This is more important. Forever and a day, right? I can’t have forever if you’re dead.”
Things are escalating, and she’s right to rush me off. But I can’t help marveling, again, that she’s choosing me.
Maybe she loves me too.