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I wouldn’t see it coming either, had instinct not just turned my head to the right, to the car with the tinted window open just enough for me to see the gun pointing at my temple.
I’ve no time to do anything but laugh and wonder what the weather is like in hell today. The roar is deafening; thepopis familiar. But then it’s not my window that smashes, not my head that gets blown off.
The tinted glass shatters, revealing the lifeless body in the driver’s seat. Beyond it, a motorcycle helmet with a reflective visor is framed by the passenger-side window. It disappears from view and then fourpopsring out behind me.
Confusion slows the adrenaline in my veins. The muffledrap-tap-tapof a gloved hand knocking on my passenger window pulls my attention. I roll down the glass and the helmet-clad head dips into my car.
The visor flips up, revealing green eyes and an angry scar.
“Now that I’ve saved your life, do I still need to get you a Christmas present?”
Thecigarroomisdark, and death lingers in the air like a bad smell. If it were my other brother sitting opposite me, he’d demand I turn on a light and crack a window. But Gabe is content in the shadows, relaxed in an armchair and puffing on a cigar.
“How did you know Blake was Griffin’s nephew?”
The cherry of his cigar glows red. “How did you not?”
Huffing out a dry laugh, I run a hand down my throat, feeling it tremble over my pulse. My brother’s question gnaws at the one thing I bring to this family: common sense.
Griffin’s shouts as I broke my knuckles on Blake’s jaw. His coldness in the days that followed. I should have seen the signs and dug deeper. Instead, I muffled them with the weight of Penny’s thighs. Drowned them out with her too-loud laugh. I couldn’t see them past the girl’s heart-shaped back tattoo, even if I’d tried.
Under Gabe’s judgmental glare, I pour vodka into a tumbler and down it in one.
“I knew something wasn’t right after you killed Blake and I stayed behind to clean up the mess. Griffin was all over the place, trying to stop me as I dragged Blake’s body to the edge of the cliff. Then there were the hushed phone calls in his car.” Gabe’s eyes lift to mine, cigar smoke swirling in front of them. “One of my men did some digging and stumbled across his family tree.”
Another laugh escapes me, this one acidic. I guess nepotism is rife in every fucking industry, then. Maybe Blake being Griffin’s nephew was too soap opera-ish for me to connect the dots, but with hindsight being a smug little prick, I can now see something was off. All my men are ex-military, and yet, this kid always acted like he’d just gotten his first gun for Christmas and couldn’t wait to shoot it in the yard.
Still, I’d trusted Griff to do all the background checks, and to train them all up to our standard. Fuck, I’d trusted that man with my life.
“I’ve been following you.”
I pause. “You have?”
Our eyes clash, and for once I can read my brother’s expression like a book. If he was following me without me noticing, anyone could have.
Before my glass reaches my lips again, those awful Visconti traits, violence and impulsion, grip me and I lash out, hurling the tumbler at the wall.
Glass shatters. Liquid splashes. Gabe glances indifferently at the mess and says, “At least vodka doesn’t stain.”
Ignoring the fact that my brother chose today of all days to develop a sense of humor, I rise and pace the room, lacing my hands behind my head.
I’ve been riddled with bad luck for three weeks, but nothing stings quite as much as being confronted with your own mortality. I guess in the grand scheme of things, everything else I’ve lost hasn’t mattered. Money, bets, business. It’s all trivial shit that can be replaced, but my heartbeat can’t.
Gabe’s gruff voice coasts over the planes of my shoulders. “As much as I hate to admit it, Vicious is right. You need a plan.”
I stop in front of the French doors and glare out to the ocean. It’s ink-black and sparkling. My eyes find the staff speedboat bobbing in the path of the moonlight. Two of Gabe’s men heave a body bag overboard; it dips under the surface with a violent splash. The next two lumps are just as heavy. When a fourth doesn’t emerge, I frown.
“Where’s the fourth body?”
“Griffin isn’t dead, only maimed.” His knuckles pop. “I’m saving him for later.”
Visions of Gabe’s cave flash against the window. I grind my teeth; even my brother’s sadistic tool box isn’t punishment enough for the cunt that betrayed me.
“Plan,” Gabe presses.
I push a rough hand through my hair. A plan? I don’t have a plan and I don’t know why I ever did. It’s clear the second I tapped the King of Diamonds, Fate took over planning my life for me. All I had to do was follow the motions and avoid the Queen of Hearts.
Instead, I let her in, even if only temporarily, and I can’t say I regret it. The worst part is that I actuallylikedthe reckless thrill of the bottom, but now I realize it wasn’t the bottom at all. Just a rest-stop on the way down.
