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“Us.” I snapped, reminding her once a-fucking-gain. “You asked me if I was a gangster. This is fucking why! So people won’t fucking try this shit! But apparently some people have forgotten the definition, so it’s now my job to rebrand it into their skulls!”
Yanking off my tie, I grabbed the brandy from the back, pouring it over my tie before turning to her. She watched me, confused. Gripping onto her chin gently, I turned her head so I could see her ear. Taking it, I dabbed her ear, causing her to flinch as I wiped her blood. I did my very best to bite back the rage I was feeling…for now, at least.
“Sammy Shannon and a few friends of his, they’re currently heading out of the city,” Lex replied.
Freezing, I closed my eyes, inhaling through my nose. “Who helped them?”
“Sir?”
Taking the wet tie, I threw it away. “You want me to fucking believe a few twenty-year-olds who don’t even know how to cut coke properly did this?”
Even from a few miles you could still see the damn smoke.
“They had help. Call Helen to hack every damn camera in the country if she needs to and retrace their fucking steps from last night to this bloody morning.”
“Yes—”
“SHUT UP AND CALL!”
Sitting back in my seat, I stared out the window. You’d think losing his uncle would be enough for him to stay low. I should have known the damn twat was too stupid to be scared.
He’s going to—
I glanced down at my fist, to see a small scraped hand over mine. Glancing at her, she didn’t say anything, just rested her head on the window.
“How much farther?” I asked Greyson, calmer.
“Ten minutes. Traffic, sir.”
The image of my grandmother appearing in my mind, I swallowed the lump in my throat…
God, you can’t have my grandmother too.
“Boston, sir,” Lex said, and even though I already had a feeling hearing that it had gotten to this level…it got under my skin.
He handed me the tablet, allowing me to see the private messages between Sammy and the Finnegan brothers…just after I’d spared his fucking life.
“She’s really out? She’s with the Callahans?”
“Yea, everyone’s talking about the wedding.”
“We’ll see about that—”
“It was about me,” she whispered, and I hadn’t realized she was reading over my shoulder.
Turning off the tablet, I dropped it onto the seat.
“They did this…that.” She pointed at the smoke coming from the distance. “Because of me.”
She still wasn’t getting it.
“No.” It wasn’t about her. “Not you. Us.”
IVY
“Do you feel any pressure here?” the doctor asked as she pressed her fingers on my neck. But I just watched as Ethan stood, like a statue, at the front of my bed. Only partially listening and mostly waiting to hear if his grandmother was out of surgery. We’d been here for a little over two hours already.
Apparently I’d inhaled a lot of smoke and they checked up on me, every thirty minutes, even though it was supposed to be once an hour until I was given the okay.
