“We’re in agreement there. We want the same thing.”
“Good.” I watched my little brother carefully. He smiled so easily and was so quick to laugh, but there was a lot hiding beneath his surface: lies and heartbreak and rage, so much rage, simmering down deep. I feared that one day it would blow sky high and take everything we’ve worked to build up with him.
“What’s our next move?”
I walked back around my desk and sat. “I have a meeting with Kaspar and Maeve in Chicago. I want to bring Winter with me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that smart?”
“Probably not, but it might be interesting, and I don’t want to hide her from them.”
“She’s a token of good will then.”
“Something like that.”
His smile slipped back into position like it’d never left at all. “Then you have my blessing, big brother.”
“Not that I need it, but thank you. Make the preparations please, and tell the girls we’ll be gone.”
“Penny won’t be happy. I think she likes Winter.”
“Too bad for Penny then, because Winter is under strict orders to stay away from them.”
“You’re too protective sometimes.”
“I wasn’t protective enough once and you remember what happened.”
He shrugged and got to his feet. “Barely. I was ten, remember? Anyway, I’ll get the ball rolling.”
He left the room and shut the door behind him.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the crackling fire.
I trusted Anthony with my life. He was my little brother, after all, but there were things about him that I feared. It wasn’t just his personality—I could handle that aspect of him.
It was his past, where he came from, and what it meant for all our lives.
Too many secrets, too many lies.
My world was a cesspool of interconnected family histories and violence stretching back over generations.
And there was no reason it would ever end.
Unless someone stepped up and did something about it.
8
Winter
Someone banged on my door the second I stepped out of the shower the next morning.
My lip still ached and the ghost of his touch lingered on my skin.
“Just a minute,” I called out, scrambling to grab some clothes.
I didn’t expect them to wait.
The bedroom door opened as I wrapped the towel around myself and stood silhouetted in the bathroom.
Darren strode in and stopped. He tilted his head to the side and stared at me for several long, silent seconds like he was inspecting a painting.
My pulse hammered. Neither of us moved.
I was caught in front of a lion with my body covered in raw meat.
His eyes darted along my skin. I was still blotchy and flushed from the hot water. I was so afraid to move, and danger hung heavy in the air. One misstep and he’d pounce.
I didn’t know what he’d take. More than I wanted him to, that was for sure. But how far, I didn’t know.
My body, my dignity. All of me.
My heart raced in looping rhythms and I felt like I might tip over and pass out at any second. My vision was blurry, my mouth dry.
And some quiet part of me, some distant and terrible voice in the back of my head told me to step forward and let the towel fall to the ground.
I could think of a hundred reasons why I’d want to do that: to continue my game of flirty distractions; to see how he’d react; to confuse him long enough to grab something sharp to plunge into his throat; to finally feel his lips and teeth and fingers along my naked flesh.
Any of those, all of those. Hate and desire. Fuck, he looked like he might explode, all of him tense and nearly shaking.
“You should get dressed. We have a long day.” He locked eyes with me.
“What are we doing?”
“You’re going to meet some people. Important people.” He stepped forward.
I stepped backward. I was trapped.
“Who?”
“People like me.”
“Cassie tried to explain it, but I’m not sure I totally understand.”
He stopped his advance and wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure she only gave you a partial picture at best.”
“She said you’re rich and powerful and you run the mafia families from the shadows.”
“Partial at best.” He turned and walked away. I felt bold enough to close the door, though left it open a crack. His voice drifted through as I pulled on my clothes as fast as I could.
I wasn’t out of danger, but the worst had passed.
“We call ourselves the Oligarchs,” he said, his voice modulating slightly as he paced. “It’s not a name I would’ve chosen, but it’s what we have. The group has been around for longer than America has been a country, dating back to the Old World. Membership changes from time to time, but the methods never do.”
I stepped back out, covered now, and toweled my hair. “Which are?”
“Money, violence, and coercion.” He looked disappointed as his eyes drifted along my body. I felt a strange resentment at that. “We are a group of pragmatic families dedicated to leashing the worst impulses of humanity. We run the crime organizations so that they don’t go wild.”