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“Pulling out all the stops for me?” I teased.
He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips in the softest kiss.
“All of them,” he said.
I shiver.My hand brushes over the empty seat beside me. I think I had blinders on when it came to tonight. I had been living in a dreamland, and now, to be so empty as I watch him walk away, panic rushes back in. The limo gives a little jerk as we start to pull away from the gala, and I turn away from the window. My hand clenches, and I set it in my lap and take a deep breath.
I’m worthless in this moment. It’s what I’ve fought against my entire life. The loss of control. Never knowing what’s about to happen to me. Ruby and I always promised each other that once we got out of the foster system, we would control our own destiny. And here I am, Ruby gone and my destiny clutched firmly in the hands of a mob boss. One I’m falling in love with and who might not live to see the next sunrise.
My breath catches in my throat, a sob sneaking out, and I cover my lips, slapping my hand against my face so hard that I’m sure it will leave a mark.
When did I become such a crier? When did I become so invested in something other than finding a way out with Ruby? When did I find this new version of myself? And why am I letting the old version of myself go without a fight?
I’m headed home like a good little girl, doing my duty. Playing the good wife.
I reach up and swipe a finger underneath both eyes, seeing the black clumps of mascara resting on the tip of my finger as each streetlight whooshes by the limo. At this rate, I need to buy some waterproof mascara. I rub my fingers together, getting rid of the wet mess, and then take another deep, shuddering breath.
17
CONNOR
The outside of Dahlia’s is strangely absent of noise. Not even sounds from inside leak out, and it puts me on edge. I know I asked her for full rein of the place, but to see it in motion and not buzzing with the activity of patrons is like watching a fish out of water, gasping for air.
I place my hand on the knob of the back door. I thought about going in the front, but I figure I might as well go where I know they are—the back room. And if Dahlia has done her part, the four men will be well on their way to comatose, making transport easy.
I can’t see Dean, Geo, or Lucas, but I know they are outside with me, hidden until I give them the signal. It’s nothing fancy—a whistle through the open door. Ginny is waiting in the car—our getaway driver, if needed. Arie is hopefully at home with Wryn.
I turn the knob, and as I open the door, all I notice is the quiet.
It doesn’t seem right. There’s a sinister hint in the air, but I can’t stop now. I will see this through. We have a plan. We are taking control.
I’m in the back hallway, and I see the door where they should be. There’s light coming from underneath, and soft music is playing. Where I expect to hear raucous laughter, there’s only soft murmurs.
I’m standing outside the door, and it’s almost like it’s alive. Like there’s a heartbeat. Maybe it’s mine, thrumming through my veins. Murdering Bertrand was a snap decision. I saw what needed to be done and did it. This time, it’s premeditated. That’s what the court would call it. I planned this out. I talked it over with others. It would carry a heftier sentence in the real world. But the thing is, men like us take care of our own. It’s not that we are above the law. But in our world, we are the law.
I push the door in, the light inside brighter than it should be for a party. I scan the room, unsure of what I’m seeing. There are no women, save for one, on the couch, sitting beside Antonio.
Dahlia.
I can see the whites of her eyes, alight with fear. She has a piece of cloth tied around her mouth, making it gape like a fish. It’s soaked with saliva, maybe sweat. Her hands are bound in front of her, and her legs are tied together on the floor. She’s trussed up and at the mercy of the four men in the room.
“Come in. Come in,” William says, smiling and waving his arm like I’m an old friend stopping by their party. Not like I haven’t walked into a scene I didn’t think I would find.
I want to punch myself in the face for not seeing this exact scenario happening. Of course they would see me coming. They would anticipate that I would do something eventually. They probably walked around, looking over their shoulder, and now, it’s paid off.
The liquor and food I had delivered to the club sits on the table across from them, untouched. The same table we all sat around as they announced the terms of my ascension to the Soltorre throne. These men are sober, and they are angry. Their smiles hide the raging storm inside.
I’m absolutely and totally fucked.
I don’t move. Dahlia stares at me. A tear forms in the corner of her eye, then trails down one cheek. Her gag soaks it up. She makes a strangled noise. I try to convey how sorry I am with a look, but I don’t think she cares. I wouldn’t.
How long before the guys and Ginny notice something is wrong? I’m the one who has been pushing this the whole time. Sure, they would like to be rid of the four men in this room, but I think they would have let it happen naturally if it wasn’t for me driving the murder bus.
I’m such an idiot. A fucking idiot.
William stalks toward me, and I back up, my sudden paralyzing fear letting go of me. I can move again. I turn to run like a fucking coward, and he snatches my arm. I shake him off, but my back crashes into something hard. Arms clamp around my chest, and I immediately bend low, using the momentum to grasp the arms and toss the person over my shoulder. He is sprawled on his back in the middle of the room.
I grasp my knife, where it’s holstered at my ankle, closer than my guns, and brandish it in the air. Then, more footsteps echo down the hall. I’m cornered in this room.
