AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“One week. First, photographs for the fuckingNew York Times. It should be big freaking news.” I thought about my last conversation with Sierra and sighed. She’d been smug about my announcement regarding the photographs, asking for a burner phone in return in order to keep in contact with the woman taking care of her bistro. I was still debating whether I would allow it.
“I’m certain it will be the event of the year.” He continued to be amused, but this time I didn’t take offense. “What do you hope to gain from Tristen’s partner?”
“To be honest with you, I want the man terrified for his life, enough so he breaches WITSEC protocol and attempts to contact his partner of several years.”
“Also interesting. That means you’re going to allow him to live.”
“Why the hell not? It’s amazing what putting the fear of God into someone can do, the benefits earned from giving them a second chance at life.” It was something my father had taught me, a method I’d balked against until now.
“Is this possession of yours anything special? Is she a senator’s daughter or a socialite?”
“She’s nobody.” As soon as I’d spouted off the lie, another pang of angst slammed into my system. Sierra was a very special woman, so much so that I remained on edge.
“Even if that’s the case, brother, she’ll become an instant target.”
“I’m well aware of that. Anyone attempting to harm her will be dealt with.” As I locked eyes with him, his smirk turned into one of respect. “I’ll need a best man.”
“Are you seriously asking me?” For the first time in as long as I could remember, I noticed an entirely different look in my brother’s eyes. I suddenly remembered the kid who used to tag along whenever he could, refusing to be insulted by the words of condemnation I’d use to try to get him to leave me alone.
I’d been a shit for a big brother, but having a happy-go-lucky kid eight years younger didn’t bode well for the brutal teenager I’d become. The business had hardened him, which for some crazy reason drew an entirely different feeling of anger. He’d wanted to be an artist, not one of the princes of darkness, as we’d been called by a tenacious reporter.
He didn’t seem to care that the wedding was pretend. “Yeah, I’m asking.”
Cruz studied my eyes, trying to determine if I was being serious. When he nodded several times, a small part of me felt like shit. “I’d be honored. When do I get to meet the girl?”
“Soon, brother. Very soon. Let’s have a conversation together with Mr. Sampson and see if we can confirm whether or not Tristen is alive.”
“This should be fun.”
Fun.
He’d been the protected son, the one who’d been allowed to live out his dreams until the day he turned twelve. Then his art had been stripped away by our father, his beloved paintings tossed into the garbage. I’d never forget the day my brother’s dreams had been crushed. I’d sensed he’d blamed me, the frank and usually harsh jabs I’d made at his prized possessions something he’d never forgotten.
What he hadn’t known was that he’d been the lucky one, our father taking it easy on him because of our mother. Not only had I not been allowed to live out my childhood fantasies given I was the firstborn, I’d also been beaten several times by my father’s hand for not becoming a carbon copy. At least my brother had been spared the abuse.
We walked in through the bakery to the hidden door, moving down a soundproofed hallway toward the main event room. Jordan had tossed the rat into a cage where he belonged, but Joseph Sampson had been pulled out of his, hosed down in preparation for our discussion. Blood still pooled by his feet from the beatings he’d received, the foamy trickle slowly heading toward the floor drain.
I moved closer, giving him the respect of looking him in the eyes. “Joseph. It’s been a long time.” I didn’t ask what methods Matteo had instructed be used, but I could tell the man was struggling with pain while attempting to act as if the entire situation didn’t bother him.
“What the… hell do you… want from me?” he asked, although it was difficult to understand his muddled words.
“The truth.”
“About what?” His exclamation boomed in the space, a surprise given his condition. He was a huge man, a solid two hundred fifty pounds of muscle. Perhaps he’d conditioned himself to endure pain.
“About your old partner.”
He eyed me carefully, but there was no flicker that would indicate anything other than surprise. “He’s dead.”
“So I’ve heard. However, I don’t buy it.”
The same look remained but there was a slight glimmer in his eyes. Maybe I was making too much out of it. Or maybe not.
From what Tristen had told me, while Joseph knew of the relationship, he’d never approved of or had anything to do with the work Tristen had performed for me. I believed otherwise. I’d even challenged Tristen about that very observation a few weeks before all hell had broken loose.
“You’re crazy. I was there on the scene. Fucking five minutes after the goddamn accident. You have no idea how… horrible it was.”
I wanted to believe him, but there was something plastic about his words. I turned toward Cruz, amused when my brother shook his head slightly, an indication he thought the man was lying. That was all I needed.
