“You’re failing. I swear to God, Sean. If you make this about your dick—”
“I’m not,” he snaps back, giving me an irritated jerk of his chin. “It’s not like that.” He glances back over his shoulder where Cecelia is still passed out due to taking a few hits of my blunt during our exchange in the lobby.
“It’s just . . .” he turns back to me, “she’s been questioning everything since minute one. She’s young, sure. But she’s not an empty head. From what I’ve gathered, she’s no more a fan of Roman than we are. I think there’s potential you can’t see because you’re too fucking pissed off to try and glimpse it.” He exhales smoke too close to my face, and I knock the lit cigarette out of his hand.
Lit ashes scatter down his arm and jeans as he bats it off. “The fuck, man! Who the fuck are you right now?”
“I’m the guy you’re currently fucking to get into her panties.”
“Yeah, seeing as how you’re becoming more unrecognizable to me by the day, and we have to handle this just so. You sure I’m the one in the way?”
He doesn’t bother hiding the doubt in his expression as he continues. “I get why you’re pissed, but the brother I know would never let someone this volatile near this situation. So, you tell me, should I trust you to handle this for all of us? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you scare the shit out of her already.”
From what I’ve gathered, she seems mature for her age. Too fucking young to know better, but brave enough to cross borders to start to learn her lessons. She all but admitted during our back and forth earlier that she’s using us, this situation, as an experiment for her own amusement to piss her father off or test herself. Probably both.
Because knowing your enemy is the most important rule in the book. Unlike Sean, I took the time to understand her typical behavior pattern. Holing up in a garage with a bunch of tatted mechanics getting stoned? Not on her resume. She even went so far as to call me “Frenchman,” which means she’s already been warned by someone who couldn’t spot my brother in a fucking two-person lineup.
Even when I full-out warned her that being here wasn’t in her best interest, she didn’t pause before leaping over the line I drew, entering the garage, and making herself at home amongst us with Sean’s encouragement.
So, while she might be asking the right questions for answers she’ll never uncover on her own, this seems more a classic case of a good girl wanting to go bad or, at least, make bad decisions.
That’s where I come in.
I don’t scare her. I intrigue her.
My blatant disgust with her invasion of my life and space only draws more curiosity, which I will use to my advantage as soon as I can swat her new bodyguard away.
Shifting my focus back to Sean, I stare past his bullshit reasoning—the image of his fingers curling around her earlier in a slight hint of possession fresh in my mind. “Do I even need to say it?”
The flick of his Zippo is the only answer I get for a few seconds until he lifts eyes full of contempt. “Yeah, Dom, maybe you better.”
“You willing to fuck us all over for her?”
“Yeah, I’m in love,” he spouts dryly.
“You’re fucking something.”
“Maybe I am. Because she’s got real heart, seems pure of soul, and has a fucking brain. We both know she’s innocent in this,” he emphasizes, “I guess keeping that in consideration makes me a real fucking monster.”
“I’m driving her. Figure it out. I’m not asking.”
He swallows the fact that I just pulled rank for the first time in our relationship and I discard any worry about what it means for us. He steps back and gives me a slight dip of his chin before stalking over to Cecelia to caress her awake. It’s then I know who’s in real danger, and it’s not Cecelia fucking Horner.
Speakers bleeding with “Bundy” to drown out the possibility of conversation, I can’t ignore Cecelia’s fear-filled screech as it morphs into high-pitched laughter while I race toward Roman’s estate. Even with my agitation prominent, I fail to fight off the threat of a smile, knowing she’s high off this. Palms on my dash, hair flying around the cabin due to the open windows, I ignore the weight of her stare while she analyzes me as she has all night. A few of the lingering gazes between us I incited earlier as I licked my blunt wrap like I lick pussy. She attempted to engage me a couple of times before and since, which I would find more irritating if I didn’t need that attention to hook her without niceties.
Unlike Sean, I am dedicated to playing my part.
But . . . I don’t deny or lie to myself about the attraction that hums when she leans over to punch in her father’s gate code as Tyler pulls up behind us. Despite her attempt not to touch me, her silky hair drags along my forearm as I get a good whiff of whatever she’s sprayed on beneath her uniform.
My eyes drink in her profile for the few seconds she crowds my space. Tragically beautiful.
Even if I’ve surprised myself by being able to appreciate the look of her—unlike Sean—I have a talent for ignoring it since I got my first hard-on and have learned to make good use of it.
Shrugging off the allure of the bait that currently has Sean’s balls in a vice grip, I slowly roll up the drive, scanning the surroundings and taking notes.
Though I’ve seen Roman’s fortress from every angle and memorized the fucking blueprints before they hammered the first nail in, this is my first up-close look.
My suspicions are confirmed as I pull up. It’s the distance from any cover to the house that makes getting it wired impossible without detection. Any attempt to do so would trigger an investigation on Roman’s part to find out who and why. Something he’s proficient in doing and doing well. Right now, he’s aware of every one of his earned opponents . . . save us.
We know this due to years of successful surveillance. Like us, Roman pays those who do his dirty work well enough to keep his secrets.
This house has never been a hot spot for activity until now—and we need in.
She’s the way.
Pulling through the circular drive to the foot of the stairs, I finally flit my attention her way.
“I don’t know whether to slap you or thank you,” she says, deep blue gaze rolling over me.
“You loved it,” I counter before turning back toward the house. It’s impressive enough, but in my mind, this is the place where my enemy currently dwells . . . sleeping mere feet away. The closest any raven has gotten in nearly a decade.
With the Glock resting in my glovebox, I could end this long game point blank while simultaneously gaining the freedom to unleash on the monsters who’ve taken residence in my mind. But inside the house in front of me resides a monster who stole my childhood by plotting my parents’ deaths for seeing him beneath his carefully placed veil. Who covered up their murders and brushed their children away like debris with a payoff. The same sort of payoff he seems to be offering his own child for arduous and unnecessary labor.
What could Cecelia possibly fucking mean to him if he’s so willing to let her work in that factory after ignoring her for years?