Chapter 9 #3
“You’re learning,” I remark. “Good for you, Cole. Did your daddy teach you that?” He steps forward, and all the men around us move one step closer too, agitation filling the air as our headlights glow in the dark, evil shadows revealing our faces under their true light.
I lick my lower lip, unshaken by him or by the gun aimed at my head.
I have already imagined all the scenarios, and this is one of them.
Planning ahead. Always. Every move on my mental chessboard, so I am never surprised or ambushed.
Every move, every combination has already happened in my head. Even dying.
“Since I was born, Ashford, since my very fucking first breath, I have loathed you. You think you’re all that, with your suits and fancy words, bargaining away my father’s legacy like it’s fucking ice cream.
” His cheeks tremble with anger, and I would not even be surprised if foam escaped his lips. The thought makes me want to laugh.
“You think it’s fucking funny?” His hand shakes from the gun’s weight.
“Cole, Cole, Cole. You never learn, do you?” Hands in my pockets, I know I am facing a ticking time bomb; however, my personal pleasure in hurting him cannot stand in the way of our mission.
“I came with my friends to take your cocaine shipment. And you know what you’re going to do?
You’re going to hand it over. Hell, you might even help your men load it into my truck. ”
“Like hell I will.”
“Oh, you will.” I nod, scratching something from my palm, looking uninterested even though this is not an ideal situation.
But I have men around me. Men with wives and children.
So I cannot afford for this to go wrong.
I can die. Nate would take over. But they cannot.
And this is where Father and I will always disagree, where our values part and our means differ.
Killing the Vodianovs would be too easy.
Crushing them in my hands is a much more delicate dance.
And so I nod at Matt, and two tranquilizers find their targets in his bodyguards’ thighs.
Their bodies collapse gracelessly onto the dusty ground.
They’ll wake up with a killing headache, but they will.
Two down. One to go. A shout of terror resounds in the cold night, Cole’s gaze shifting from fight to fear, spreading like a disease inside him.
I walk toward him, push his gun down, and command, “So, your car or mine?”
His face boils with anger, as if smoke could pour out of his ears.
His fist meets my face exactly when I expect it, and for some strange pity I have for him, I let him have it.
The punch crashes into my upper cheek, tissue splitting, blood jutting out as a result.
My men come closer, circling him to suffocation, but I raise my palm, holding his death at the end of my fingers.
“Feel better?” I ask, cracking my neck to one side.
“Just so you know, next time, I won’t be as merciful.
” His teeth shine in the dark as Matt circles him and traps his hands behind his back.
I will let him go later, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a field, blindfolded, just for the fun of it, because this is not how it ends yet.
It would be too easy for him, and I promised my father I would make them hurt.
His arms are locked behind his back, my men moving all around us, returning to their cars as we go back to our initial mission, with the boss of it himself pointing us in the right direction.
The sound of a broken animal comes out of him.
Eyes on me, he sneers, almost murmuring, “I’ll…
I’ll kill what you love, Ashford. People,” he spits, “people have a way of disappearing. Whatever it is, I’ll find it, and I’ll kill it.
God is my witness.” My fist meets his stomach.
His body folds in agony, silenced, and I crouch beside his ear, murmuring.
“From now on, Cole, expect no mercy.” I straighten and order Peter, gun in his hand, “Go with him. We take everything we can, and then we’re out.
” Matt makes a circling motion in the air, signaling we are moving, and everybody follows, getting back into our cars and aiming at the red dot still glowing on our radar.
A drop of blood meets my lips. Shit. I forgot about his attempt to put me down.
At least my employees will never wonder whether I am willing to fight.
Because I am. Even if my already twice-broken nose, with its slight bump, testifies to it.
The radio crackles, Peter’s voice coming through.
“He’s all set, boss. Follow us.” Ten cars, aiming at the Vodianovs’ biggest transaction of the year, with Cole himself manacled in one of our leather seats.
Could have been worse. His threat still floats in the air along with Ella’s face, the two images mirroring each other as I shake my head. What was that?
“You good?” Matt asks, hands on the wheel while I keep the screen on my thighs, playing my next moves in my head and texting Nate about the evening’s developments. I nod back at Matt. But a lie expands in my chest, blocked by my unreadable expression.
I’ll kill what you love, he said.
And somehow, all I can think of is Ella.