We Were Together

CHAPTER 37

NOW

NICKY

I click open the notification I just received to find a text waiting from Mav’s head of security.

LOGAN: A PACKAGE IS EN ROUTE TO YOUR HOUSE. PLEASE ENSURE YOU ARE AVAILABLE TO RECEIVE IT.

Opening the tracking app, I find Daph’s coordinates closing in on the house. Switching back over to the text thread, I thumb out a response.

ME: BOTH?

LOGAN: NEGATIVE. WE ARE STILL IN POSSESSION OF THE OTHER.

Fuck. When J told me she was taking Daph to Lounge for her Bachelorette Party, I briefly debating filling her in that Mav now owns the club. However, in this case it seemed beneficial having them in a secure location. If they aren’t with me, that fucker is the next safest bet. No one’s getting to my sister on his watch. He’s been steadily updating me all night until he went radio silent on me about thirty minutes ago.

You don’t need my IQ to deduce if J’s still at the club and Mav’s suddenly nonresponsive, they’re either fighting or fucking. Either way, I’ll be dealing with the collateral damage of that fallout tomorrow. Though, as headlights pull down my driveway, I suddenly can’t seem to find the ability to care about anything other than what awaits me in the back of that car.

It’s been well over a month since she and I started back up again, stealing every available moment we can and, even though she doesn’t say it, I can see the sadness each time we’re forced to part. It’s because in her mind, each and every encounter between us is overshadowed by an expiration date—an impending countdown until she’s sentenced to a loveless life as Mrs. Lucian Devoreaux.

I, however, have been happier than I’ve been in years. Because I know the truth… this is only the beginning. This last month, I’ve made plays to pull out of business with the Devoreauxs. Tapping into some of my shadier connections—namely, Enzo Stingone, the New York Don of the Sicilian Mafia—I was able to link up with their accountant who will be handling all of my financial records moving forward. If anyone knows how to wrap hundreds of millions of dollars in illegal drug trade profits in a pretty little bow and present it as legitimate income to avoid federal indictment, it’s the Sicilians. They handled the entire transition within days and, as of 8 p.m. yesterday, all information pertaining to me contained within Elliot Devoreaux’s secure servers have been wiped from existence. When he goes in Monday morning, it’ll look as though his system suffered a glitch resulting in lost information. He’s going to be shitting bricks at the thought of having to call me and admit the fuck-up. It’s an offense that would normally be a surefire way to earn yourself a spot in the ground, so when I settle for a beating and informing him he’ll be losing my business effective immediately, he’s gonna feel like he dodged a bullet…literally.

The price of this arrangement with the Sicilians certainly didn’t come cheap, but Enzo already receives a percentage of my business, so it was a simple matter of renegotiating rates. Plus, I’ll only need their services as long as I’m running the Dukes—which, hopefully, won’t be for much longer if I can secure the last bit of evidence Kellerman needs to link Yuri to the trafficking.

I know he’s opened up trafficking lines between here and Venezuela since establishing the supply chain with the Colombians. I’ve heard his men whispering their excitement over testing out their new “exotic” merchandise. I just need something concrete to tie him to it and I’m out.

The black sedan pulls up in front of the house, the driver exiting and gesturing toward the back before tucking his hands up alongside his face as though he’s sleeping. I nod, waving him off to let him know I’ve got her. Opening the door, I dip inside to pull Daph into my arms, cradling her to my chest as I stand.

“Hey, you.” She offers me a sleepy smile, nuzzling her face into my chest as feelings of warmth unfurl within me. “I think—” She hiccups. “I think I’m drunk.”

“I see that.” I chuckle, ascending the stone steps of the house to make our way inside. “Did you have fun?”

“With your sister? Yes.” Another hiccup interjects itself into the conversation, followed by a string of giggles. “Them other bitches suck.”

I’m careful of her head as I navigate through the doorway to my room before sitting her gently on the bed. Kneeling down, I remove her red stiletto pumps, alternating attention between each of her feet as I firmly massage the underside with my thumb.

“That feels so gooooood.” Daphne drops back before arching her back from the comforter, her long, drawn-out moan causing me to snicker in response.

“I’m sure it does after being confined to those death contraptions all night. Okay, back to what you were saying. What bitches, baby?”

“My bridal party.” She grows quiet, her body appearing to sag in defeat as she stares up at my ceiling, lost in thought. “Only three more weeks. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

It’s not—she just doesn’t know it yet. Tomorrow when she’s sober, I’ll tell her everything. Yes, she will have to deal with a guard detail until Mav and I can get things with Yuri squared, but the whole point of me avoiding a relationship was to keep her safe. That logic went out the window the second Yuri made threats against her. If her life’s in danger either way, she’s safest by my side where anything trying to get to her would have to go through me first. Now, with the Devoreauxs holding none of the cards, we can be together without consequence.

She yawns on a stretch, the action pulling me back to the present.

“Come here, demon.” I sit her up, helping her out of the confines of her tiny white dress. “Where’s the asshole tonight? Do I need J to cover?”

Or I could always just call him and tell him exactly where she is and to never expect her home.

“No, he’s out of town. Something for work.”

Sure, he is. When it comes to Luc, out of town or working late are synonymous with being balls deep in anyone who isn’t his fiancée. I realize how completely hypocritical I sound considering she has been anything but loyal this month, but he doomed them from the start. Luc’s never wanted Daphne for who she truly is. He wants a trophy wife. Someone to decorate his arm while looking the other way in the presence of his never-ending indiscretions. She’s been born into a life where that kind of a shit show has been paraded about as an example of a typical loving marriage. It’s what she’s come to expect.

Honestly, the real person to blame here is me. I grew up with a solid model of how a real man loves his woman, and yet I balked at the concept of such. My unwillingness to accept the truth of my feelings followed by countless excuses of why I needed to push her away has caused me to fail her just as much, if not more so than those other pieces of shit. Because if I had pulled my head out of my ass from the start, that wouldn’t be Lucian’s ring on her finger right now.

“Let’s go to bed, baby.” I pull back the covers, gesturing for her to climb underneath. She complies, scooching over as I slide in beside her.

Tomorrow’s a new day.

Tomorrow, we start our life.

***

The sun streams in though my curtains, warming the skin of our tangled bodies. Daph’s draped across my chest, her leg slung up over my hip. I glance down at her, my fingers massaging her scalp as I press a kiss to her forehead. It’s rare I sleep past nine, but it’s hard to find the strength to climb out of bed when I have her in my arms.

My hand drifts lower, fingertips lazily trailing up and down her back, appreciating the softness of her skin. She stirs, her body briefly coiling in on itself before stretching out like a satiated cat.

Her head rolls up to the side, her chin resting upon my chest as she squints one eye open at me. Daph smiles, the wrinkles on her forehead smoothing as any tension recedes from her face.

“How you feeling?” I stroke the hair from her face before tracing the slender curve of her shoulder.

“Surprisingly, not that shitty.”

“That’s good. You feeling up for breakfast?”

Daphne shakes her head, pushing up to a sitting position and covering herself with the sheet. “Can’t. I have to get home.”

“Wait.” My hand shoots forward, encircling her wrist as she moves to leave. Shit. I thought I’d at least have breakfast to spring this on her. “I need to talk to you about some stuff.”

“That sounds… ominous.” She chuckles, securing the sheet around her like one would a towel after a shower before dropping back onto her ass. “Okay. Shoot.”

“I—” The gentle humming of my cell vibrating against the nightstand interrupts me.

“You need to get that?”

“No.” The vibrations cut out after several seconds, allowing me to redirect my full attention to her. “Like I was saying—”

The humming resumes, the vibrations causing the phone to migrate close to the edge where it teeters, threatening to crash to the floor.

“Answer the phone, Nick. I can hang out a few minutes longer.”

“I’m so sorry. Let me just…” I turn over, reaching for the phone to find my sister’s name flashing across the screen. “Hey, J. Can I call you back?”

“Nicky!” her panicked voices shrieks over the speaker, stalling my breathing.

Daphne shoots forward, her face heavy with worry as she scrambles to sit beside me, her fingers latching onto my arm.

“It’s Maverick,” J continues over the honking of a car horn sounding off in the background. “He’s on his way to you. I told him about the baby, and he asked if you knew and I said yes and he lost it. He took his gun and he left and he’s coming to you!” Her words bleed together into one long run-on sentence.

“It’s okay, Baby J. Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

“Nicky, please don’t hurt him.” She cries, her words becoming difficult to hear through her sobs. “Please don’t.”

“I’m not gonna hurt him. I promise.” A part of me always knew this day would come. It’s time to atone for my sins. “How long ago did he leave?”

Climbing from the bed, I make my way to the dresser where I retrieve some jeans and an old graphic tee.

“I’m not far behind him. Just stay out of sight ‘til I get there.”

“How long, J?!” I slam the drawer, stepping into the legs of my pants.

“About five minutes ago.” She sniffles. “He’s on the bike.”

That means I’ve got maybe ten if I’m lucky.

“Don’t speed. I’ll see you when you get here.” I disconnect the call, dropping back onto my bed to shove my feet into my shoes.

“Nicky.” Daph shifts closer to the edge of the bed. “Why’s Maverick coming here?”

“He’s looking for blood. And he’s owed every drop.” Securing my laces, I turn to her, taking her face in my hands. “No matter what happens, do not come outside.”

“Nicky, no.” She grips at the fabric of my shirt, attempting to hold me in place. “She said to wait.”

“Look at me, demon. No matter what.” Pressing a kiss to her downturned lips, I linger briefly to inhale the sweet scent of strawberries before I force myself from the room.

Hurrying down the stairs, I fire off a quick text to the guards on duty that everyone is to abandon their post immediately and vacate the property until further notice. I exit the door just in time to hear the hum of his bike in the distance. The sound grows louder, steadily increasing until he finally comes into view.

“Mav,” I caution when he dismounts the bike and begins his advance toward me.

His face remains stoic, void of any flicker of human emotion as he closes the gap between us, withdrawing his weapon and training it on me.

“Come on, Mav. You’re not gonna shoo— MOTHERFUCKER!” Pain explodes in my shoulder, the momentum of the bullet sending me spinning before dropping me to a knee. Blood seeps through the fabric of my shirt as I apply pressure to the wound, any efforts at first aid promptly abandoned when Mav lines up to take the next shot.

Son of a bitch.My hand shoots up, knocking his arm to the side just as the gun discharges a second time. The bullet goes wide, striking some portion of the house behind me. I drive forward before he has the opportunity to try again, tackling him to the ground. However, somehow in the scuffle he manages to flip our positions, gaining the upper hand.

He straddles my torso, his body shifting off center when his fist cocks back, offering me an opportunity to slip his hold. And yet, as I stare up into his eyes mad with rage, I also catch a glimpse of what lies beneath—devastation.

I did this to him. It was my fears I projected out, inspiring doubt over whether he could keep her safe. It was at my insistence that he’d taken steps to end the relationship, letting her believe he’d cheated with that bitch, Amber. I knew he loved her more than I’d ever believed anyone capable, and I sabotaged them.

And I did it all knowing she was pregnant with his child. A truth he was never informed of. Not even after she lost the baby.

It’s upon that reflection that my body relaxes, forgoing all resistance as I await my fate. Mav’s fist connects with my jaw, hammering me with punches as he unleashes his wrath unto me. Each punch disorients me further until his screams about the life I robbed from him become nothing more than garbled incoherent nonsense.

At some point the hits stop coming, my eyes opening to find Mav’s face within inches of my own.

“You stole everything from me,” he whispers before his skull collides with mine.

My face feels like it shatters. I’m fairly certain my eyes are still open, though I fail to register anything around me. Maverick hops up, his weight vanishing from my body as I’m left praying my sister will forgive me when she learns the extent of my secrets.

“NO!” A scream pierces the air before a much more slender body hurls itself on top of me. Her hair drapes over my face, the scent of strawberries giving her away.

I’m vaguely aware of some exchange occurring between her and Maverick, though I can’t seem to process what either of them are saying. Not until she issues her final response.

“You want him? You put that bullet though me to get him.”

I less than three you.

“MAVERICK!” My sister’s screams alert me to her presence, catapulting the world back into focus.

My vision clears, revealing a distraught looking Daph staring down at me. She helps me up, her worried expression barely able to contain her tears as she gently strokes the hair from my face.

“He didn’t know until after.” I glance over to find my sister explaining to Maverick. “I miscarried right in front of him.”

Lies. Everything I have, everything I am, is built on a lie. It stops now.

“I knew.” Daph’s fingers still in my hair at my confession. “I knew about the baby… before the miscarriage.”

The world seems to grow silent around us as three sets of eyes come to rest upon me, giving way to the truth that spills free. I confess to how I learned of the pregnancy from Tommy while I was torturing him, and how I cut out his tongue to keep the secret.

I grow angry when Mav asks me if I gave Jones something to cause the loss of the baby, only to be devastated when J questions my role in the miscarriage as well. My sister’s pregnancy was a massive complication, but Bishop’s baby or not, that was an extension of Jones, and I would’ve protected it with my life. The fact that she thinks otherwise shows just how badly I’ve fucked everything up.

After Mav broke things off, my sister spent eleven days trying to wrap her head around becoming a single mom, while also anguishing over how she was going to tell me. Most days were a struggle for Daphne to even get her to stop crying long enough to get out of bed and shower. I could have assuaged her fears at any time by assuring her there was nothing she could do to make me hate her. I could have picked up a phone and called Maverick, who would’ve killed anyone who stood in the way of him and his unborn child. Instead, she bled out on the floor of our kitchen as she was trying to break the news to me.

So, when my sister pulls Mav’s gun on me and tells me I’m not to contact her again, I don’t bother to hide the tears that slip free as my heart shatters. I’m powerless as I’m forced to watch her leave with him, the emptiness that remains so bare, I worry I’ll never be whole again.

“How could you do that to them?” Daph stands on the front steps in one of my T-shirts, her eyes filled with tears.

“I did what I thought needed to be done.”

“You aren’t God, Nicky! You don’t get to play with people’s lives. You don’t get to make decisions for them!”

“YOU THINK I ENJOY THIS?!” I roar, only to wince in agony when pain lances through my shoulder, reminding me of the bullet currently embedded in my muscle. “Do you have any idea how heavy this fucking crown is?”

“No one asked you to wear it.” Daph’s face hardens, her mask a mixture of anger and disappointment. “I need to go.”

“Wait. Shit!” I clutch the wound tighter, attempting to slow the bleeding. “I still need to talk to you.”

“I think I’ve heard everything I need to.”

She’s going to leave. J hates me. My alliance with Mav is as good as dead. And now I’m going to lose Daph, too. She’s never going to forgive me.

I follow her into the house, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. My anxiety climbs to new heights as I watch her ascend the stairs toward my room, each step bringing her closer to exiting my life forever.

Do something, Nick. Think!

“I’m being investigated!” I’m always being investigated in some capacity. How the hell does that help me?

But Daphne stops, slowly turning to face me, her eyes round with concern. “What does that mean for you?”

The story takes shape in my head, any notions of living a life predicated only on the foundations of truth promptly tossed the fuck aside as I weave together a series of lies I can only hope cater to her sympathies.

“If they charge me, it will be chaos. Not just for me, but for all the boys. I need to get ahead of this.”

Daph lowers herself down, perching on one of the stairs as she pulls her knees into her chest. “So, what do we do?”

“Marry me.” I don’t make the conscious decision to say it. The words just slip out. Yet, I don’t feel an ounce of regret once they’re free.

The color drains from her face, her hands going limp at her sides. “I’m sorry?”

“If this goes to trial, you will undoubtedly be subpoenaed. You practically lived at my house growing up. I wouldn’t be surprised if the bulk of their case is built on the back of your testimony given things you’ve seen me do over the years. If we’re married, they can’t force you to testify against me.”

“What about your parents? Or J?”

“My parents don’t know anything, so it’s impossible for them to perjure themselves. And my lawyer’s working on a loophole that would prevent J from having to testify as my sibling.” Lies. Even if such a loophole existed, after what went down today, I’m pretty sure Jones would willingly testify against me. “This would be a mutually beneficial arrangement, demon.”

“How so? What would I stand to gain?”

“You wouldn’t have to marry Lucian.”

Daph’s mouth snaps shut, her head tilting to the side as though considering my proposition. “Can I think about it?”

If I have to forge this marriage certificate myself, she will be my wife. However, things will go much smoother if she thinks she has a choice in the matter. “Of course, but I need to hide you in the meantime.”

“What?! How do you expect me to explain my absence in the middle of wedding planning?”

“I don’t give a shit. Tell your mother you’re going on a spa retreat or say you have a design job in another state. Say anything you need, but I can’t risk the Feds getting hands on you before you make your decision.”

If Yuri was triggered by a snapshot of Mav and my sister, then going public with their relationship will send him careening headfirst off a cliff. I need Daph the fuck out of dodge when he tries to make good on those threats.

“How long?” Her voice comes out small, her gaze directed down to where she fiddles with the hem of my oversized shirt.

“Pack enough for two weeks. Hopefully, you won’t need to be gone longer than that.”

“No, I mean how long would we have to stay married?”

Forever.

“That’s dependent on the length and outcome of the trial,” I lie.

She swallows, nervously picking at her nails. “And when would I have to leave?”

“Tonight. Organize what you need to. We leave at five.”

“Wait! Where are we going?!” she calls after me as I continue on toward the kitchen, though I’m currently exerting an exceptional amount of effort into not passing out from blood loss to keep this conversation going any longer.

Where are we going? Great question. Where the fuck could I possibly hide her that Yuri wouldn’t think to look? Retrieving my cell from my pocket, I scroll through my contact list, my fingers slowing as my gaze zeroes in on a name I never imagined I’d need to call for help. Clicking Call, I lift the phone to my ear, relieved when he answers on the second ring.

“Nick? Is everything okay? Something wrong with my daughter?”

“Hey, Marcus. Nah, Baby J’s all good. I, uh… I’m actually in need of a favor.”