A snatched second is all it takes.
My resolve hardens as I watch Quinn’s anguished face. He can't save her from there; he’s too far. I turn and see Benjamin stepping out of the shadows, his gun raised. I look at him along the barrel of his gun before I make my move. It’s a torturous moment when I must weigh my hopes for the future against what’s right.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth. I am. I’m sorry for all of this.
My feet are surer than I thought they’d be as I slide in front of Emily’s body. “You didn’t deserve this. Any of you,” I whisper. There’s no clear shot at her now. She’s safe. And if this is all I can do to make amends then so be it.
I thought it would be slow, like watching a film, my eyes tracking the bullet as it leaves the gun on a trajectory straight for me. But it’s not. It's not like a film at all. The man’s arm jolts as he fires his shot, and that’s all I see before pain explodes through me.
Twenty-Seven
I’m staring at the only thing in this world worth a damn, and I haven’t got any fucking words for how I feel. The ice cubes clink against the side of the glass, as I look at the scene in front of me, trying to work out what the hell to do. Both the Cane boys are outside this room, pacing. They want answers to their questions. They’re not the only ones. Now this is all done, and we’re safe, I want to know exactly what the fuck was going on in her head when she dived in front of Emily. Not that that's the question either Cane wants an answer to.
I turn my head over my shoulder at Quinn’s voice kicking off in my lounge, Nathan trying to calm him down. He’s still wound up, still shouting his mouth around like he has every right to come in here and vent his frustration. He might have, but he’ll do it when I’ve got my thoughts together first. Hope took a bullet for his woman. He can eat that up a bit longer yet, let it make him find sense in the senseless. I still don’t know why she did it. Can’t fucking work it out at all. Emily’s been treated for whatever cuts and scrapes she took. Gabby’s fine. But Hope—she’s not. She’s still out cold and lying on our bed. It’s the way I’m having her kept, because until I can work out what all this shit is, I’m not having her woken.
It was a fucking mad house when we arrived. Daniel saw us as we ran in and started working on her in the elevator. I barely heard what he was asking me, just damn questions rattling in my ear as he tried to get her clothes off. What was her blood type? Was she on any medication? Was she healthy? I shook my head and nodded, just staring at her bleeding out in my arms. Fixed, that’s all I wanted. Fixed and alive. And then Quinn pulled me off her and held me back in the corner.
“Ben?” Daniel says, coming round from the bathroom into the room. “We need to have the rest of the triage gear brought up now. I’ve got the bullet out, and she’s about stable, but I can’t do anymore until—” I wave my hand at him and pick up my phone to let the doorman downstairs know to let them through, then watch him as he wipes the rest of her blood from his hands.
“She all right, though?” I ask.
“As long as we can get her hooked up and I can finish my tests, she should pull through okay. She’s damn lucky.” I frown at him, annoyed with the word should. I don’t like it. Every fucking deal gone wrong, every bullet hole or gash we couldn't tape down or fix up, and we called Dr. Daniel Redman, son of my father’s second, to fix it for us.
He'll do it again now.
My frown turns into a scowl as I stand and walk over to her, drink dangling in my fingers. “Do every test you can. You make her right again. She dies and your family pays,” I mumble, taking another drink. He goes fucking white. Good. Let that damn well sink in. I've never said something like that to him before now. He's trusted. Old school. And he's always come through if he can, but if anyone’s killing her, or letting her die, it’ll be me. That's what we are.
Who I am.
I swig at my scotch again and stare at her pale features, eyes closed and hair pinned up out of the way. “I don’t want to hearshouldagain, Daniel.”
He nods at me and goes to the door, ready to let the hustle of noise coming into my home into this room. The moment it opens, I glare at Quinn hovering in my eyeline and sip my drink again. He looks at the state of my bed, blood drenching what was once pristine, and backs off a step. Good. I’m in no mood for arguments. Everything that happens now, happens exactly how I want it to. He can go back to Chicago as far as I’m concerned. What he came for is over, and the only goddamn casualty is the woman I love. Still. Regardless of her deceit.
Nathan comes up behind him and pulls him out of the way of the trollies and bed being aimed at the room. Two women come in with them, both wearing casual clothes. Daniel makes them sign a document and then gets them busy with something.
“Family,” he says to me. I nod, knowing that means they’ll know the fucking score in here and keep their mouths shut when they leave. The amount of money he gives them will help, too. That and the threat that comes with me.
I walk over to the door, and keep my stare fixed on Quinn as I walk through it towards the booze. “Stay the fuck out of there,” I growl, reaching for a bottle.
He glances back in then frowns and goes to join Emily on the couch. She smiles at him and reaches her hand for his, still shook up by what’s gone down. My eyes find Gabby leaning her elbows on the table, Nathan beside her. They’re murmuring about something together. Whatever it is, I don’t give a damn, but the very fact that two women are sitting here while Hope’s in there, not far off dead, incenses the fuck out of me.
“You should all leave,” I announce. They should. They should get out of here so I can process what the hell is happening in my head. I’m ready to kill anything that moves and verging on fucking tears for some reason. That shit’s not happened to me in a long time.
“We’ve got things to discuss, Vico.” Quinn. I pull in a breath, hoping to contain the fucking animosity that’s winding up my insides. “She ratted us out. And sister? The fuck?” I glare at him, giving him a second to think sensibly about what’s coming out of his mouth next. “We need to talk about that.”
“No, we don’t. You’ve got what you came to New York for. We’re done. Leave.”
I head back towards the only place I want to be and point my glass at the door for them, showing the goddamn way. Luca and Torrino stand there, guns in their hands in case anything else dares come through my fucking doors. “The boys will show you out.”
“Vico, she’s our sister.” And now Nathan’s joining in on the party.
I spin at him, looking the other two women over again first. Fucking family now, is it? What the hell have they ever done for her other than cause her pain?
“That doesn't mean anything to me. You leave her and go.”
Quinn stands. “No. We’re staying until this is finalized. Fuck you and your orders.”
I raise a brow at the tone, barely stopping myself from launching at him, and watch as Emily puts her hand on his arm. “Quinn, calm down. This isn’t the way.” No, it isn’t. But if that’s what he wants, I’m about ready to burn this whole fucking building down, so he can bring that shit on. I’m full of it. Anger. Confusion. Hatred and violence.
