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32
VAUGHN
“I’m going with you.”
I wasn’t even surprised at Rebel’s announcement.
But I also wasn’t surprised when Fang picked her up and started up the stairs with her.
“Fang!” She twisted and hit his arms, banded tight around her middle. “Stop!”
“Not a fucking chance, Pix.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Go. I’ve got her. I’ll call a couple of the guys from the club to go after you and wait out in front. You got thirty minutes to get Kian back before they come in, guns blazing. Crime family or not, no one is taking either one of you from us.”
Rebel stopped kicking and punching, though Fang still didn’t let her go.
Her eyes were big and scared when she stared down at me. “Just give Luca whatever he wants, Vaughn. If it’s money to pay out Brooke’s debt, give him the house. Or money. Or the business. I don’t need any of it. I just need us.”
It was the same conclusion I’d already come to. Nothing was worth more than getting Kian back safely. I just hoped he knew that. Had I told him? That I’d fucked us up in the past, but that nothing was worth more than it now? I’d clean toilets for the rest of my life to make ends meet if I had to. I didn’t care, as long as he wasn’t hurt.
I picked up my keys and with a nod at the two of them, went out to my car.
The address Kian gave me was deep in the Providence woods, miles from the main road. I drove my car toward the sprawling mansion that overlooked the river, my palms clammy. I checked the rearview mirror a few times, but if Fang’s guys were following me out there, I couldn’t see them. At least not yet.
I parked in front of the house and slowly got out of the car, half expecting to be shot down in a hail of bullets at any minute.
But nothing happened. And when I knocked, a polite blond man in a suit opened the door. “Vaughn Weston?”
I blinked. “Uh, yes?”
“Please do come through. Mr. Guerra and Mr. O’Malley are downstairs playing pool.”
“Excuse me?” Was that code for locked in the basement being tortured? Was it just some sort of ploy to get me down there so he could do the same to me?
“Would you like a drink? Bourbon, perhaps? Or something to eat? We have a lovely array of cheeses I could bring down to you. They go nicely with our estate’s wine if you prefer?”
Was this Luca’s game? Feed up his victims before he threatened and hacked them into little pieces? What kind of crime family had a butler who politely asked their victims if they wanted some cheese? Was this just what he did when he wasn’t typing up threatening white card notes on his boss’s computer? Or did Luca prefer to do the dirty work himself?
I declined all offers of food and drink. After what had happened to my dad, they could very well be poisoned, and I wasn’t taking any chances. I followed the man downstairs to a rec room that did indeed have a pool table in the middle of it.
Luca looked up with a cue in his hand and waved me in. “Hey, Vaughn. Come on in. Do you play? I’m afraid I’m not much of a match for Kian. He kicked my ass on round one.”
I stared at Kian, taking in the fact he was leaning on the edge of the pool table, seemingly as cool as a cucumber. It was only that I knew him so well that I noticed the way he gripped the table hard enough his knuckles were white. Or the muscle that ticked in his jaw, giving away the fact he was anxious. He shot a wary glance at Luca, but when he turned back to me, he just shrugged. “I wasn’t going to go easy on him, since he didn’t exactly give me a choice about coming over here.”
Yeah, because that’s what I was concerned about. Whether Kian let the crime lord win at pool.
Jesus Christ.
Luca sent the white ball rolling across the table. It bounced into several colored balls which went scattering in all directions, but none of them actually landed in a pocket. “See? No good.”
I wasn’t about to stand here and discuss his pool technique. “Why am I here?”
Luca stood the cue on its end and leaned on it. “Getting right down to business, huh? I can appreciate that. Do you want to sit?”
“I’d rather not be here long enough to make myself comfortable, if it’s all the same to you.”
Luca put the cue back on the rack and went to sit on an expensive leather couch. It was the same color as the one in the Slayers’ common room, but where the Slayers’ couch was cracked and ripped, Luca’s was pristine. He sank into the cushions and studied the cheese platter in front of him, picking up a small square of cheese and tossing it into his mouth before he answered me. “Fair enough. We need to talk about the money you owe me.”
“Brooke owes you money, not me.”
