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“Sorry, silly me. Where arewetraveling to tomorrow?”
“I don’t collaborate when on a mission,” I shoot back, finally managing to pull both my arms through the sleeves of my fucking coat. At least that’s not a lie. However, technically speaking, this will be my first mission ever, but Austin doesn’t need to know that. “But as I said, I’ll keep you updated. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I nod at Mason and he makes his way toward the door.
“Stop.” We all whip our heads to Angélique, who’s eyeing me with a pleading look.
“Either we work together or the deal’s off,” Austin repeats, his tone full of sadistic delight.
“I’m happy to share all the information with you,” I hiss, ignoring my sister-in-law. “I told you. But I won’t be traveling with you.” I get up from my seat, and the gesture is immediately copied by both my brother and Austin. Towering over one another, the testosterone is palpable. My brother is tall and lean, but Austin has an athletic build and at least twenty pounds on both of us. We stand like this for god knows how long, daring each other in utter silence. Finally, I sigh, hold up my hands in defeat and sit back down. I don’t want us to stand here like a bunch of bulls, jostling for position. That’s my brother’s department. Luckily, the others follow my lead, taking their seats, bringing us back to civilization.
Austin breaks the silence. “Going on the mission is part of us working together. If you can’t do that, the deal is off.”
“Okay.” I already regret the word coming out of my mouth.
“Okay?” Austin repeats as if he’s equally surprised. Well, he can’t be any more surprised than I am, that’s for sure. Then his face splits into a wide grin. “Fantastic! Well, that sure was a productive evening. We’ll proceed withThe Trade. Can’t go off on a journey with your baby brother and take the risk that my entire crew is killed before I get back. So, until we return from our secret destination, Victoria will be in your care.” Our entire camp eyes the ginger-haired woman who stands, a large coat wrapped around her tiny body. She smiles and waves. “She’ll be looking after all our travel arrangements. Cancel whatever you had ’cause she knows what’s best.” The girl does really look friendly, but damn…he is pushing it.
Austin taps a finger to his lips as he eyes the room, pretending to be searching. “Hm. We wanthim.” Offuckingcourse. Mason’s wide eyes dart from me back to Austin, back to me. Despite his strong build, he’s as much of an awkward loner as I am. Perhaps that’s why we get along so well.
“Very well,” Logan replies before I can complain. Apparently, he’s so eager to please his wife that he’s forgetting the boundaries here. Mason’smybodyguard. Or maybe I’m so intimidated by Austin that I’m forgettingmine. After all, Logan’s the leader and I am his right hand. “But he won’t be staying at your premises. You can send someone over to his place. Personal reasons.”
Austin eyes Mason a moment longer, before his playful smile returns. “Excellent.” His gaze lands on me again and his grin widens as he does what I’ve been dreading for the entire night—he’s coming over. And like a wimp, I just sit there and watch him make his way toward me. With every slow, casual step he approaches, and I press my back further against the chair. And by the time he smoothly swings his muscled legs over the table, I purse my dry lips, trying to keep my unwanted arousal from displaying itself. I put a hand over my growing bulge and wish it to go down. All three of our guys straighten their backs, ready to jump into action when finally, Logan holds up a hand.
He’s too late though, because Austin’s already standing right in front of me, that annoying smirk on his beautiful face. The only thing I can do is rise to my full height and jut out my chin in defiance. Despite being an inch or two shorter than him, I’m by no means a small man. Then why do I feel so little in his presence? However, impressive or not, Austin’s now on the wrong side of the room. This isourterritory.
“Hand me your phone.”
I want to tell him where to shove it. The last time I gave him my phone, he made that humiliating call. But looking at his knowing smirk, I know this is a silent dare. And I won’t crumble at his feet. Not in front of my family and with that humiliating video still out there somewhere. So I do as he asks and then stare at his long, slender fingers while Austin enters his number.
“There.”
I try to reach for my phone, but he pulls it back a few times as I grab the air, much to his own delight. “Don’t push it, fucker,” I grumble, when I finally get ahold of it.
He bends over ever so slightly and whispers, “We’ll see about that, princess.” With one effortless jump, he’s back on the other side of the table and takes his coat from the chair. “We’ll be heading out then. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 5—Connor
During the entire ride home, I give the Saturday night buzz of the Manhattan streets an aloof stare. My head is spinning. Going into enemy territory has drained me so much more than I’d anticipated. Sure, meeting The Void was something both Logan and I had been dreading, but knowing that Austin is part ofthemonly makes the shame of what I’ve done burn deeper.
He can decide at any given moment to rat me out.
That’s a serious worry, on top of the one that’s revealed itself over the last few months. Since stepping up, Logan has collected more debt than ever and Angélique has set up a social network for our strippers. And I’ve been working like a maniac, turning every piece of information upside down to find the people who are doing us wrong. And I found them, but it has come with a price—a lot of sleepless nights.
They’re a French cult. They record the actual hanging—a hushed voice in the night, soft and gentle like a lover. Just the thought is enough to send shivers through my body again. It’s ruthless, yet strangely intimate, and leaving me in the dark as to why they’re coming after us. Aren’t cults supposed to be excluded from society? But the tracks of whispers they leave behind are spoken in riddles, and I’m tangled in the knots.
I cross my arms over my chest and rub my arms, realizing that I already miss Mason’s reassuring presence. He’s not a talkative guy, but he’s pleasant company. Like me, professional and detailed on the job and highly awkward and shy on the outside. If it wasn’t for his Pops, I’d have taken him with me to Paris.
Paris. I let out a long sigh and squeeze my eyes shut, sleep finally settling itself over my body. Despite my trepidation, I’ve been looking forward to traveling back to Europe. I miss the historic and cultural vibe that lingers over the continent and have secretly been looking forward to visiting some art galleries once we’ve found a way to extort our enemy. Though I have a theory on that matter. But first, I desperately need to connect with my inner desire and dream away. Only now, the main feature of those dreams is going to be traveling with me. The very one who was supposed to stay hidden in my mind and heart. I have to remind myself every moment of the day that I don’t do relationships outside my inner circle. I’m too much of a blundering failure when it comes to life outside The Business.
It’s only a little later, after the elevator has brought me up to my private floor and I slide down onto my large couch, that I feel the monumental realization of this change of plan.
I hug one of my plush, dark green pillows, swallowing down the apprehension of having to leave this safe haven I’ve created. Should I call my brother and be honest about it? Tell him that I really don’t feel like going to Paris with Austin? He’d cancel everything for me, I know he would. Though, with Angélique being so insistent about creating this more peaceful future with The Void, I’d put him in a difficult position. Plus, what if he asks me why, and I have to explain that I know Austin already? That I’ve had a secret crush on him for over three years and that he has a video of me jacking off to a photo of him? Naked?
God, the embarrassment.
I toss away the pillow, but when it doesn’t fly nearly as far as I want, I stand up and kick it, and again until it hits the wall, suddenly feeling angry and helpless. Then, out of protest, I leave the untidiness on purpose and stomp to my bedroom where my suitcase is waiting.
Carol O’Neill.
A twenty-five-year-old ex-junkie, looking for a new opportunity, wanted to work as a stripper. A pretty girl, but not a very solid earner, though customers enjoyed her for other activities. She’d been with us for a little more than six months before we found her hanging in an abandoned church, suspended above the gallery. According to our forensic expert, it had taken her more than twenty minutes to die.
