14. Zaria #2
Instead, I speak.
"We need to talk."
He turns so fast he almost knocks over his beer, green-gold eyes going wide when he sees me. And there it is—that flash of heat, of hunger, of genuine pleasure at my presence that makes my stupid heart jump again even though I'm trying to stay cold.
He recovers quickly, something shuttering behind his eyes as he takes in my expression. Reading me the way he's gotten too good at reading me.
"Zaria."
Just my name. Not sweetheart, not any of the games we usually play. Just my name in that voice that does things to my nervous system I refuse to acknowledge right now.
"Outside." I keep my voice flat, giving nothing away. "Now."
He doesn't argue. Doesn't ask questions. Just stands and follows me toward the door like he knows exactly why I'm angry and has been expecting this confrontation.
Which only makes me angrier.
The cold air hits me first when I shove through the door, clearing my head just enough to remember why I'm furious instead of relieved.
The alley behind Marco's is narrow, brick walls on both sides, dumpsters providing cover from the street.
Private. Which is what I need for this conversation because I'm about to lose my shit on Greer Martin and I don't need witnesses.
I whirl around the second I hear the door close behind him.
"Are you spying on me?"
He blinks. Actually has the audacity to look surprised, like this question came out of nowhere instead of being the logical conclusion to watching Hayes fucking Carelli grab him like they share secrets.
"Are you using me?" The words come out sharper, angrier, because now that I'm saying it out loud the possibility feels more real. More painful. "Feeding information back to the Carellis? Playing me so your friends can?—"
The door opens again.
Cain slips out, moving with that quiet efficiency that usually comforts me but right now just makes everything worse. He positions himself against the wall, arms crossed, watching Greer with the kind of scrutiny that precedes violence.
Greer's eyes narrow immediately, his entire posture shifting from defensive to aggressive in half a second. His jaw tightens, hands curling into fists at his sides, and there's something dark and possessive in his expression that makes heat flare low in my stomach despite my anger.
"Of course." His voice drips with bitter amusement. "Can't have a conversation without your guard dog coming to steal you away."
The jealousy in those words is obvious. Raw. The kind of territorial anger that shouldn't make me feel anything except annoyed, but instead makes my pulse quicken because Greer Martin is standing in an alley glaring at Cain like he wants to fight him for my attention.
I like it.
I shouldn't like it. Should be focused on getting answers, on protecting my operation, on maintaining the walls I've spent years building.
But watching Greer bristle with possessive fury over Cain's presence does something to me that has nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the primal part of my brain that recognizes when someone wants to claim me.
I know that Greer doesn't think I'm hooking up with Cain. But the fact that he's jealous of the time I spend with Cain, that his presence distracts me from Greer. It's a fucking turn on.
"Answer the question." I push past the heat, focusing on what matters. On whether I've been played by someone I let close enough to hurt me. "Are you working with the Carellis?"
"Hayes is marrying my sister."
The words come out flat, matter-of-fact, like he's been waiting to say them and is relieved to finally get them out in the open. Like this explains everything and should make me stop being angry.
I stare at him. "What?"
"Lilah. My sister." His green-gold eyes hold mine, no deception in them that I can detect. "She's engaged to Hayes Carelli. Has been for months. They live next door to me in a quiet neighborhood where normal people pretend the world isn't violent and everyone mows their fucking lawn on Saturdays."
My mind scrambles to process this, trying to fit the pieces together into something that makes sense.
Greer's sister is marrying into the Carelli family, which means Greer has connections I didn't know about, relationships with people who could absolutely use him to gather intelligence on my operation.
But his tone isn't defensive or calculated—it's frustrated, like this connection is a complication he didn't want in his life.
"They had no idea I was here." He takes a step closer, and I have to force myself not to back up.
"No clue I was spending every night in Jersey, coming to your fights, getting involved in your world.
Hayes saw me when he came into Marco's for a meeting and lost his shit because apparently my sister has been worried about me and he thought I'd gotten into some trouble. "
"Like getting involved with me," I say flatly.
"Like getting involved with anyone in this life." His eyes flash. "Hayes doesn't give a shit about your business, Zaria. The Carellis stay in Manhattan, you stay in Jersey, everyone maintains their territory lines like civilized criminals. He was shocked to find me here. That's it."
I want to believe him. Want it so badly that I immediately distrust the feeling because wanting something makes you vulnerable to manipulation.
People lie. Use connections and half-truths to build cover stories that fall apart under scrutiny.
Greer could be telling me exactly what I want to hear while still feeding the Carellis information, using his sister's engagement as the perfect excuse for why Hayes knows where to find him.
"That true?" Cain's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "Hayes Carelli is engaged?"
Greer's jaw tightens at Cain's interruption, that jealous anger flaring again in his eyes.
But he answers. "Yeah. You can verify it if you want.
I'm sure your network is good enough to confirm that Hayes lives in a house next to mine with my sister Lilah, that they've been together for over a year, that she used to date an abusive piece of shit named Dylan who kidnapped me last year to get leverage on her and Hayes killed the asshole for it. "
The last part comes out bitter, and I see something flash across his face—old pain, old trauma.
The kidnapping he mentioned once, the darkness that started his spiral into my world.
It matches the timeline, matches the scar on his temple, matches everything I've learned about Greer Martin through observation and careful questioning.
"I heard about the engagement," Cain says after a moment. "Couple months back. Low-key thing, no big announcements, but word travels. Heath Carelli's brother marrying an outsider raised some eyebrows."
The confirmation should make me relax. Should be enough evidence that Greer is telling the truth, that this connection to the Carellis is personal rather than strategic.
But I'm still wound tight, still angry at myself for not knowing, for letting someone get close without doing proper due diligence on his family ties.
Greer's eyes haven't left mine, and there's something challenging in his gaze now. Something that says he's tired of explaining himself, tired of proving his loyalty, tired of my suspicion when he's already given me gifts written in violence and blood.
"I don't like this," he says, and it takes me a second to realize he's not talking about my interrogation anymore. His attention cuts to Cain, then back to me. "Him always hovering. Always coming between us. Always taking you away the second things get intense."
"Cain's my family." The words come out defensive.
"I know." Greer takes another step closer, and this time I do back up until my shoulders hit the brick wall. "But I'm here too. And I'm not going anywhere. So maybe it's time we all get used to that instead of him treating me like a threat that needs elimination and you letting him."
The territorial claim in those words makes my stomach flip. Greer isn't asking for permission or trying to negotiate his place in my world anymore—he's demanding it. Stating his presence as fact and expecting everyone else to adjust.
Cain shifts against the wall, and I can feel his disapproval radiating across the alley.
He doesn't like Greer's involvement, has made that clear from the beginning.
Thinks Greer is operating on emotion instead of strategy, that he's going to be a casualty when things get violent, that his obsession with me is a distraction we can't afford.
And maybe he's right. Maybe Greer is all those things—reckless and emotional and bound to get himself killed chasing darkness he doesn't fully understand.
But he's also proven himself repeatedly, solved problems I didn't ask him to solve, given me gifts that show he understands what I need even when I don't say it out loud.
He's mine in ways I'm only starting to acknowledge.
"Cain." I keep my eyes on Greer when I speak. "Give us a minute."
Silence. I can feel Cain's reluctance, his instinct to protect me from threats he doesn't trust. But after a long moment, I hear him push off the wall.
"Z, you sure?"
"Yeah." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "I'm sure."
More silence, then footsteps moving toward the door. It opens, closes, and suddenly it's just me and Greer in the cold alley with nothing between us except the questions I haven't asked yet and the anger still simmering in my chest.
"You and Cain need to work your shit out," I tell him, because that's going to be a problem if Greer's really staying. "He doesn't like you. You don't like him around me. That's going to cause issues."
"Then maybe he should stop acting like I'm temporary." Greer's voice has dropped lower, rougher. "Stop treating me like I'm some tourist who's going to disappear when reality gets too hard."
"Are you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, more vulnerable than I meant to sound. "Going to disappear?"