I don’t know what happens to her face. Something does, though. It tempers to the same look she has in brief seconds when I give her a piece of myself.
“You do?” she asks. Three years and she asks me that. I frown at the thought, not sure how much of a cunt I’ve been to her, because who the fuck else does she think I would have living with me for two of those years if I didn’t like them?
“Yes, Hope. I like you very much.” She blushes, pink travelling across her chest and up her neck quicker than I’ve ever seen. It’s cute, sweetening something that is damn near sweet enough on its own. I smirk and look back at my food, wondering how long flirting is supposed to carry on before fucking happens. “Wear the goddamn jeans if you want to.”
Silence settles for a while as we continue eating. I'm not sure why. I'm assuming it's this sense of feeling engraving itself into parts of me I wasn't aware I had. She probably doesn't know what to say or do.I shake my head to myself, annoyed that she might feel the need to fake consideration. Life is safe for us, has been for a long time, regardless of my business. There's nothing that can get in anymore as long as I keep doing what I do.
“You should probably say something nice back to me,” I mutter, pushing my plate away. She smiles and opens her mouth just as my phone rings. I look at it and see Tony's name flashing on the screen. “Hold that thought,” I say, answering him and pulling the phone to my ear.
“Yeah?”
“You need to get down here.” My head spins to the main doors as I hear footsteps running, Luca looking flustered. I stand, the chair scraping back under me. “Luca’s coming to—”
“He’s here,” I cut in, fingers waving Hope up. A gun fires in the background, making me start for the doors. Another fires, a strangled cry coming down the line. “The fuck is that?”
“Get down here.” The phone goes dead.
“Move!” I bellow out to Luca, my hand reaching for Hope as my feet sprint the distance out to the road. He does, his own shoes running the steps down to get him into the car and ready before we get to him. He swerves off the moment we slide in, the door slamming behind me after I've pushed Hope in.
“What’s happening?” she says, eyes wide. I pull my gun out, check it, then lean over the front seats to look out at the road ahead.
“Who was it?” I spit out at him.
“I dunno.” Luca speeds around the corners, tires screeching and banking hard to get us there quicker and overtake other traffic. “Fucking carnage, though. Tony called the team in and sent me here. I don’t know what’s gonna be left by the time we get back.”
Time stills in the damned minutes it takes us to cross town. All I can see is black as I focus on where we’re going and brace my arm across Hope. Whoever the fuck thought about delving into my deal is going to pay hard for that mistake. I stare out into the night, all those feelings from yesterday winding me up into a damn frenzy of frustration and hatred until the car eventually pulls over on a quiet street across from the building’s basement.
“Stay with the damn car,” I say to him, opening my door. “Keep her safe, Luca.” He nods and draws his own weapon, body scrambling to get out next to me. It’s quiet as I look over at the entrance of the building, no noise or commotion other than the usual traffic. And then I hear a shot out of nowhere. Luca pushes me sideways, lunging his body and firing back at the same time. Fuck knows where at. I fall, feet stumbling to right my balance, and look at him fall beside me. His gun rises.
“Stay down,” he says.
Fuck that. Some cunt wants a cut at me they can try fucking harder than this shit. “Stay with her, Luca.” I look into the car, eyes focused on her. “You fucking hear me, Hope? You don’t fucking move until I come to get you.” She nods rapidly, her body ducking down from the windows.
My feet move around the car to sprint across the road before I think more of it, my gun out to my side ready. Another shot fires, so I dip my head and keep running for the doors until I’m through them and heading down the stairs. My back presses against the stone, eyes searching for anything that damn well moves. I can’t see anything. No threat. No one advancing or moving in my eyeline. It’s eerily still. No noise other than an elevator rising somewhere.
My feet keep moving until I hit the main basement and peer into the front lobby, noting the doors still swinging lightly. Still no noise. I push onwards, gun aimed level and swiveling around as I stare through the small crack the doors provide. The sight that greets me is enough to have me ready to kill anyone.
Carnage is right. Every one of my guys is dead, their bodies littered across the floor. I search them, looking for Tony amongst the blood and scattered guns, and notice the back doors creaking in the wind. All the packages are gone, nothing but old paper and boxes discarded, most of it seeping with crimson stains now. My lips snarl, teeth chewing the side of my damn face as I check the pulse of one of my men. I don’t know why I’m bothering; he’s as dead as the rest of them.
I cross the space some more, quietly edging past the last of the old containers to get to those creaking doors. “Tony?” I mutter, as I stare at the doors still opening and closing, possibly jammed on something.
My head tilts around the containers, eyes focused on whatever that thing is, gun still raised.
Tony.
Fuck.
I hurry over the ground, body sliding down to my knees to get to him and pull him up onto my lap, my fingers desperately searching his neck for a pulse. His head lolls to the side the moment I lift him and try checking, blood coming from his mouth as empty eyes gaze up at me. My throat growls at the vision, eyes trained on the fucking calling card that’s been carved into his forehead. Crossed swords and a dragon's tail. Japanese scum. Yakuza.
Eight
The quiet in the car is stifling.
All I can hear is Luca’s deep breathing in the front seat. He’ll follow orders to the last, which means all I can do is sit and wait.
My eyes are fixed on the dark scene through the tinted windows. There’s no outward sign anything is wrong. Traffic still moves past; there are no siren’s blazing despite the gunshots fired.
Is this Cane’s doing? They turn up, mess around with Benjamin, and then all of a sudden, a drop gets hit? That’s too much of a coincidence for me. After all of these years, they show up and now this. No one has ever challenged Benjamin’s world. He is a king on the streets of New York—further, even. This will not go uncontested.
