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“So, directionsisterit is.” Kai quips once he’s settled behind the wheel. I guess there’s something suspicious about my tense jaw and bloodthirsty look, because his eyes narrow when he turns my way. “You alright, bro? You look a bitoff.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” I run a hand over my face though I can’t help the sigh that escapes from my lips. “Let’s just go. Let’s see what she’s gotten us into this time. Apparently, it’s one of those up-and-coming neighborhoods in Fordham. Let me check the location.” I send it to Kai’s phone and his Bluetooth picks it up, activating his GPS automatically.
“Cool. Let’s go. Oh, if you want more details of the property,” he points toward the back of the car. “Vic left you a folder with all the project details. If you ask me, our chick was born to do this. She enjoys it and she knows the entire city man. And those who rule it.” He waggles his brows. “Could chat their fucking asses off too.”
I chuckle at that, but I’ve got to give it to him—he’s right. And after all the things I’ve seen in Paris, it’ll be refreshing to work on a property project again, a straightforward, money-making machine. Don’t get me wrong, I can absolutely live with drugs and violence, I don’t mind debt collecting and I sure as hell enjoy a few sexy dancers. But those nutcases speaking of devotion and hypnosis and mind-altering experiences? No, not for me.
“By the way, did you get those tickets for the Rangers?” I ask, staring at the lingering fingers on my phone, practically begging my brain to ask Mia for another of Connor’s phone numbers. With grinding teeth, I shove the damn thing back into my pocket.
“I did, buddy, I did.” Kai gives me a fist bump and laughs as the car swerves dangerously, before swiftly correcting our trajectory. “Saturday night, game night. Got them pretty oneshalfway up the lower bowl at either end of the neutral zone.”
“Sweet.” I let Kai blabber about his strategy on how his favorite team can win Saturday’s game, and what he’d do if he were the coach, providing him with an occasional hum. It isn’t until he gives me a nudge to the side, that I look up with a puzzled look on my face. “What? Damn, looks pretty rough here.”
It somehow brings back memories of a safe house in Paris with a similar-looking, rotten view. Kai double parks his car next to a black Mercedes that I recognize as belonging to one of our security guys, and kills the engine. “Right, here we are.”
We get out and I take a moment to take in the sloppy street that is mostly occupied by older buildings, varying in condition from abandoned to renovated. Not gonna lie, I’m skeptical—but The Butterfly looked horrible when I initially set foot in that warehouse, and look at how much money that metamorphosis brought into the pot.
“Hello, sweets!” Vic approaches out of the blue and gives me a weird hug from behind. “So good to see you again! How was Paris?”
“Let’s just say that it’s good to be back.” I spin around and lift her from the ground, enjoying the familiar squeak she lets out.
“Yeah, yeah, well you sure were determined to go there in the first place.”
I ignore her smart-ass comment, and move to give my brother a solid hug. “Good to see you man,” Ro mumbles against my ear, making my chest tighten.
“Same here, bro.”Bro?Christ, where did that word come from?
Ro gives me a weird look but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he includes our guest in our little gathering and sends me a private, small shake of the head behind his back. Fuck, the French dude better start talking soon. After all, that’s the deal we struck—information in return for temporary shelter against hisfamily-turned-enemy. He’s supposed to be our wild card tonight, our bigfuck youto The Business who’s been acting so superior ever since we started working together. I hope that Logan took my earlier threat seriously, despite my not-so-graceful defeat in chess. I can’t wait to wipe the smug look off of his face when he sees our prize, our ticket to freedom from madness. Why did Connor not bring the guy here? Well, his hesitation lost him his spot. Guess he was right after all—life is one big competition, a battle for the best.Though I’ll gladly give my spot away if Connor would accept my love.
Fuck, I’m craving those large, brown eyes and that lovely mop of auburn hair. For those beautifully carved lips, soft and wet against mine.
I turn my attention back to Xavier. Apart from sleeping, which he did practically the entire journey back home, he hasn’t breathed a single word.
“How are we going to make him talk?” Ro mutters, handing me over a cup of coffee.
“Fucking skittish is what he is.”
“He’s afraid,” Ro corrects, turning to face me. “He’s been in a cult for God knows how long and he’s on his own now because he helped you. The least you can do is be friendly, and a little patient.”
“Patient? I want him to talk before the gathering starts!”
Ro shakes his head. “That’s not gonna happen. My best guess is that you wait for that dude from the Business to come—”
“Connor,” I correct with a grumble.
“Yes,him, then perhaps have a talk with the three of you.” Without waiting for my reply, he eyes Xavier. “Do you want to talk to Connor? The other guy from the party?”
Xavier watches him with large, searching eyes, then nods.
“Alright, that’s settled.”
They’re here.It’s my increasing heartbeat that’s the first sign of Connor’s approaching presence. I look up to see the slick, white Audi making its way around the corner and finally feel grounded again. Finally, feelsafeagain.
“Did he come on his own?” I mumble to myself from the window I walked to. He’s not. I peer outside and catch a glimpse of the black van that’s parking behind the white beauty. It takes a second, then two people come out—a small woman with bouncy, blonde curls and a tall, broad man I may have seen before, who’s clearly their bodyguard. An interesting combination.
But when they make their way inside, I only have eyes for him, my heart fluttering at the sight.Yes. It only takes one look and I know that my earlier promise still stands.Evenwhen he gives me that pretty scowl.Especiallywhen he looks sexy as hell, with tight jeans and Doc Martens and a stylish trench coat and those large glasses.
“Connor,” I let out, but the rest of the words are stuck in my throat.
