Chapter 4 #4
Massimo mirrors my move and places his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together.
“It feels like we start over every damn three weeks with digging out the rot trying to bring us down. Just yesterday Sloane was at her boutique and someone drove by and shot out her windows. She’s scared to go to work and rightly so. ”
Drake shoots back the last of his drink and slams down the crystal glass. “Agreed. All our women are, for fuck’s sake. Katriana won’t go to the park anymore or anywhere. She’s terrified to leave the penthouse.”
Massimo stands and paces to the window. His expression holds the same frustration Drake just shared.
“It comes with the territory. You know and so do they. You all don’t think I want to get this resolved?
I know it’s my responsibility because it’s happening in my sector.
I know.” I fuse my words with the same gut-wrenching anger I’ve felt since learning someone is moving in on my shipping lanes.
Fuck you all if you think I’m sitting on my hands,” I bark, earning me a glare from Massimo through the reflection of the window.
I think he’s going to leave it at that, but apparently he isn’t satisfied with staying quiet. “You say that because you don’t have a woman at home to protect.”
My chest tightens. The ax to the heart is swift. The pain is brutal.
“Fuck you, Mass,” I grit out between clenched teeth on auto. Bad memories burn a path through my brain and aim straight for the black hole where my heart used to be. I know my brother doesn’t mean to stir up the past, but his words light a fire in me all the same.
I don’t feel like forcing my bare knuckles down his throat or killing family tonight so I keep my ass glued to my chair for all our sakes for a second time tonight.
“Fuck you and all this flowery love shit. I’m focused on keeping business flowing in while figuring out who is trying to take me—us, actually—out. ”
Mass turns on his heel, the wrath of all the gods of any era you want to pick raging in his tight expression.
“You think we all aren’t focused on the same damn thing?
You hurt, we all hurt. Isn’t that how this works?
” He throws his arms out, gesturing to Redthorne Holdings and the rest of our brothers.
I throw up both hands in return. “How the fuck should I know anymore? Seems like everyone is either on diaper duty or too busy making sure the home life is okay before anything else.”
A scowl grips his expression. “What does that mean?” He paces back to the table and leans his weight on his fists, like he thinks his two-twenty bulk intimidates me.
I cock my head to the side and let the chains reining in the old me loosen.
Looks like I might be feeding him my fist tonight after all. I go to push up from my chair when Rafael thumps the table in front of him with a meaty fist.
“Enough. For fuck’s sake. You two want to go measure your dicks, do it somewhere else,” he booms. “None of us want to see you two beat the shit out of each other.”
Luca stands, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stack of bills.
“Um, don’t speak for me. I’ll put money on Rowan, sorry Mass.
But you gotta admit he’s the right pick.
I mean, look at that scowl. He looks like he’s ready to take some souls to hell with him tonight.
” Luca throws a fucking wink at me and smiles like he’s about to pull in a few grand. “I got you brother.”
“Luca, damn it. Shut the fuck up.”
Massimo pushes his weight off his knuckles and it’s like seeing a veil lift off him at the sound of Rafael's voice. “Fuck. Damn it.”
He drags a hand through his hair and lets the weight of his fist land heavy on the table. The grim look on his face matches his next words. “Shit. Man, I’m sorry ’bout that. I didn’t mean it like that or to drag your past up. I don’t wish your heartache on my worst enemy.”
He knows my history and why I refuse to have a woman at my side. I wave him off but the sour taste of the night lingers on the back of my tongue. “Don’t worry about it.” I reach for the whiskey and pour a double, downing it in one swallow.
He’s worried about the uptick in danger surrounding us and those closest to us lately. I understand why he and the rest of my brothers are frustrated, I do. But they chose to fall in love and get married just like they chose our way of life. I don’t have to carry the burden of their choices.
But I do anyway. Deep down I love the women who have made them all happy. I simply know that happiness will not find me. And I am okay with that. I have to be.
Instead of earning the wrath of my brothers and telling them what they already know, I pour my second drink of the night and lean my weight back.
Rafael sits quiet for a few minutes with no visible signs of his thoughts beyond his usual pensive scowl. “Keep working the international channels, my brother," he eventually says. “Bring us something we can act on. Tension is a bit high as you can see. No one means any disrespect.”
I nod. The briefing is done and I have work to do.
“Hold up.” Luca throws his weight into his chair, looking disappointed. He ties his hair back and that is a clear sign there’s work to be done.
Shit.
The damn wishes.
Luca is on his feet again, moving between the table and the bar with envelopes fanned in his left hand, sorting through them quickly.
He reads fragments aloud, passing wishes to the brothers best suited for each case.
Drake takes three. Massimo takes two. Kon refuses one and accepts another with a grunt that communicates his enthusiasm.
It probably deals with a body and a fresh grave.
I half-listen. My role in the Syndicate has never been wish granting.
The other five engage with individual interventions, personal cases, and more than a few that would land us all in prison if anyone caught us.
My contribution is infrastructure. I keep the international channels open, the shipping routes clean, the financial pipelines flowing.
I am the engine underneath while my brothers work the surface.
I rarely claim wishes. Tonight should be no different.
Luca moves past me on his way to the bar, the remaining envelopes in hand. His elbow clips the back of my chair and a single envelope slips free, the paper sliding loose and landing in my lap.
I pick it up. The seal is already torn from earlier sorting. A folded piece of paper sits inside and I pull it free.
The handwriting registers first. It’s uneven, pressed hard into the paper, the letters denting through to the back side.
My eyes drop to the words and every sound in the room falls away.
Help! I witnessed a murder and now I am next. Please, I need protection. I'll pay anything.
Below that, an address.
Below that, a name. My full attention hones in on it.
Cora Vale.
Every muscle goes into a full-body clamp that stops my breathing mid-inhale. Heat floods the back of my neck. I mentally erase the shock locking me up and read the name again to make sure stress isn’t causing me to hallucinate.
Nope. It really does read: Cora Vale.
My chest tightens and I fist my tumbler so hard the glass cracks between my fingers. Knots form in my gut.
I read the wish again and memorize the address.
I shake the mess of my broken tumbler away, unbothered by the few nicks along my fingers.
"I need to handle something." I stand, uncaring of anyone reading the wave of urgency making my movements choppy.
Rafael's eyes track me. The calculation runs behind his dark gaze. I clock the second he spots the broken glass.
“What’s wrong?” Rafael is out of his chair. Luca follows. Everyone in this damn room is so fine-tuned to the energy of the man next to him, it’s like we all move in a pack. One man gives a signal and everyone is ready for a fight.
"What did we miss?" Luca huffs out a heavy breath and tosses the last of the red envelopes on the conference table. “Am I making calls or did someone die?” He’s grabbing for his shoulder holsters before I can tell him to stand down.
I pocket her wish. "A wish requires my attention tonight. Stand down. I’ll call in help if I need it."
Rafael places a hand on my shoulder and forces me to stop before I can walk out. A crease mars the space between his brows. A couple of heartbeats pass and I guess he finds what he is looking for because he gives a simple nod saying, “Call.”
“Da, moy brat. I’ll call. This is probably nothing.” I pass the wish to him and let him read it.
He hands it back and nods. “Go.”
I walk to the elevator and the doors close behind me. Less than forty-five seconds later I'm in the car and hitting late Chicago traffic.
The address from the wish glows on the navigation screen.
The city opens around me. I press the accelerator and the engine responds.
The fear of that sweet angel getting hurt guts me.
I swerve around a pack of teens joyriding and hug the corner as I turn off the main drag and gun it toward her house.
Like hell Cora Vale is going to die tonight. I break every traffic law this city has to prove fate wrong.