Chapter Twelve

“ C HA-CHING .”

The ping jars me from the image of Cecelia running her hands along my dick when we faced off in the kitchen yesterday. I’d done my worst, and even in doing it, the hum of attraction was there, only strengthening with our latest sparring match. This one heavily incited by me. She’d given just as good as she got, but Sean’s latest test backfired in the end. He’d purposely left her in my path, again, and failed to make his point, again. She’s nowhere near ready or has the strength to endure the trials of being in our world. The more he tries, the more his efforts have proven futile.

The Dead Sergeants ring out through my earbuds as I eye the new balance in our piggy bank. Scanning the Nasdaq feed when the exchange opens for the day, the local news simultaneously pops up, streaming on another screen. Satisfaction thrums through me when I search for and discover Spencer’s company stock is plummeting according to plan. Once we’ve gathered enough evidence to bury him for the guns we found at the warehouse, it’s RIP for Spencer and onto the next target. Just as I think it, my phone rattles with an incoming text from Tyler.

T: Meet you at the garage.

Annoyance flares when I catch another whiff of the fucking carrot cake Cecelia plastered to my head yesterday, and I decide another shower is in order. Moving to push away from my desk, I pause when I catch a headline flash across the screen.

LOCAL WOMEN’S SHELTER RECEIVES A STAGGERING DONATION.

Killing the streaming music, I turn up the volume just as the anchor cues the reporter on site.

“I’m standing outside ‘Chance Two Women’s Shelter’ with director Loretta Dawson, where, just days ago, an anonymous donor had a truck delivered. The truck was filled to the brim with supplies and non-perishables that will stock their pantry well through the new year. An unexpected but much-needed donation. Can you tell us a little more about that, Loretta?”

Sean’s old Sunday school teacher steps up, a mix of nerves and excitement in her expression. “When the truck pulled up, we were just blown away. We’ve received some generous donations in the past, but nothing of this magnitude. We were close to shutting our doors even after our annual fund-raiser last month. We’re so thankful to whoever found it inside themselves to gift us the ability to keep the shelter going and potentially change dozens of women’s lives.”

Satisfied, I lower the volume before cracking my neck and pushing away.

Muscles screaming due to pulling another all-nighter, I dread the long hours ahead. Heading toward the bathroom, my personal cell buzzes in my hand. Pissed it’s not my brother—who’s left my last two texts asking for a call unanswered—dread blankets me when BLUE RIDGE MEDICAL fills my screen.

In the bathroom, I study the dark half-moons under my eyes in the mirror as I answer. “Hello?”

“Dominic King?”

“This is he.”

“I’m sorry to call so early. It’s just that your...” I hear the flip of a page, “Aunt Delphine. Well...she’s early for her chemo appointment and in no state to drive herself home.”

Cupping the back of my head, I inhale a deep breath for patience. “How early?”

With her reply, I scrub my jaw. “Can you keep her there? I can be there in an hour.”

Hearing the woman panic at what’s sure to be the longest fucking hour of her life, I thank her and hang up before starting my shower. Once stripped, I palm the tiles, letting the water rain down my back as I close my eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s the only prayer I can muster.

Somewhat revived after a brisk, cold rinse, I pull on my King’s tee before kicking into my boots. Taking the stairs with what little energy I have, I’m halfway down when Sean glances up from where he stands behind the kitchen island—the news still running on the living room TV. “See it?”

I nod as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, scouring me as he pours me a cup before pushing it over the island in offering.

“Another all-nighter?”

I grunt, taking a hearty sip before the bitching commences.

“Need you whole, man. Can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.”

“I don’t see anyone else around here capable of handling my workload, my way, and someone has to organize the mess that was left for me.”

“According to your impossible standards,” he snarks. “Did we really fuck up so badly holding the fort down while you were in Boston?”

“You feeling needy?” I ask between sips. “Want a compliment?”

“If I’m in need of anything or anyone right now, it’s not you. By the way, thanks for fucking that up for me. She snuck out last night without a word and won’t text me back this morning.”

I lift my cup in salute. “Anytime.”

“So, it was intentional.”

“As intentional as you leaving her here yesterday without playing guard dog.” I shrug. “Maybe you didn’t drill your point into her good enough with your little make-up fuck.”

“I believe you heard evidence to the contrary.”

“You’re confusing me with someone who gives a damn. I’ve got more important shit to deal with right now than your fuck life.”

“Say what you will, man, but even with Tyler on our collective asses, you’re the one currently sabotaging progress.”

“She needs to know her place.”

“I understand why this is hard on you, but you can’t keep holding her ignorance against her when she doesn’t know what you’re really about. If you’d give her half a goddamn chance, I think she’ll surprise you.” He palms the counter. “If you’re honest with yourself, she already has.”

“You understand?” I walk around and stare out of the kitchen window, scanning the cloud-covered mountain ridge beyond our backyard. “Yeah, I don’t think you do.”

“Then we need to talk about this.”

“What we need to do is get to the fucking garage. Tyler’s waiting.”

Sean sets his cup in the sink next to me as I dump my coffee in a travel mug, grabbing the pot and filling it to the brim before capping it. Sean turns to me, and even as pissed as he is, his expression leaks with concern.

“Want me to drive you?”

“I’m good.”

He bites his lip ring briefly before pinning me. “Are we good?”

He tries to get a read on me as I duck my head and grab my keys—over the Cecelia conversation altogether. “What do you want to hear?”

“The fucking truth. I’m not going to lie to you. There’s potential there, not just for me, but for us, collectively long term.”

I pause the travel mug at my lips. “Now you’re thinking long term?”

“Isn’t that the point of this? I see it in her, and I think you’re pissed you can see it too.”

“I see a mouse.”

“Whatever, have it your way. If you wanted me to back off, you’ve made your point crystal fucking clear. Just so you know, you could have saved us all the dramatics and just told me outright.”

“My fist didn’t clue you in?”

He runs a hand through his scattered hair, perplexed. “I thought we fucking settled this.”

“We did. Not my problem she couldn’t hack it. It was your little experiment that went awry. That’s on you.”

“Right. Fuck it.” Sean pulls his keys out and turns to leave, and I glance back out of the window to the world that awaits. A world I want no fucking part of if I can’t play the role I want to within it. That’s where Sean comes in. He’s been my liaison to the outside well before my perpetual state of unrest. While the rest of my brothers remain focused on their agendas, Sean’s always kept my back first and foremost. Even if his current motives with Cecelia are fucking selfish and asking a lot, he won’t betray me when it matters most. Of that much, I’m certain. “We’re good.”

He pauses and studies me for sincerity. “You mean that?”

I do. Even if he’s decided to make Cecelia a hobby, Sean doesn’t do long-term. Whatever he has brewing with her will fizzle out one way or the other. So, what do I give a fuck if he’s getting something personally out of it? It’s part of who he is and what he needs. Something I’ve never identified with but always understood about him. If he’s going to be distracted by any woman, who better than the one that will lead us closer to destroying Roman?

“Yeah, Romeo,” I quip. “But just so you know, she’s merely another in a long line of Rosalines.”

“Think what you will, but I’m straight up telling you otherwise...and I’m not sure you are or can ever be good with it. As much as I like her, and I truly fucking do,” he admits, running his hands through his hair, “it can end now. This impasse she’s decided on can be an out, so I’m leaving the ball in your court to decide.”

He lingers to make sure his following words are heard, along with his warning. “But if you do decide to let her through, I’m bringing her all in .”

His declaration has me pausing all movement. “And the consequences?”

“On me,” he declares before turning and stalking out the front door.

Stunned by his willingness to vouch for her, especially after her meltdown yesterday, I follow and lock up. After cranking our engines to warm them up, I glance over to see him smiling through our lowered windows while classic rock begins to filter through his speakers.

“Let’s wake you up.”

I crank up my own music to drown his noise out, and he shakes his head in annoyance. In the next second, he’s spinning tires to lead us out of the neighborhood, and I put my Camaro into gear and follow.

At the stop sign, I pull up next to him so our hoods are lined up. After three collaborative revs of our engines for a countdown, we both rocket into motion, claiming both lanes of the main road. Sean grabs the advantage when I’m forced behind him by an oncoming car. I can practically hear his sarcastic rebuttal when I floor my Camaro and bullet past him. The long double tap of his horn is an unmistakable “fuck you” as we fly down the road. Sean starts to gain on me when another oncoming car forces me to slow and roll into his lane. The driver lays on his horn, a “fucking idiots!” screamed as we zoom past. Sean guns it as I straddle both lanes, anticipating his every move, his hood dangerously close to my bumper as I block his maneuvering to stay ahead. I glance in my rearview, chuckling. “I may be seeing two of you, brother, but you’re both behind me.”

When we approach our last right turn, I allow him to dart past me, and I quickly decide to cut the corner of a dry field, tires skidding back onto the pavement as I reclaim my lead and give it everything I’ve got. Sean repeatedly sounds his horn as I chuckle, already tasting my victory.

We take one last dicey turn, and Sean recovers faster, gaining ground and flipping the bird out of his window as we go hood to hood on the straightaway. Opening up, I go full throttle, knowing horsepower has everything to do with the last stretch, and this is where I have slightly more edge. My engine wins as I gain a full car length before fishtailing into King’s parking lot and stopping on a dime. Sean pulls into the space next to me just as I exit. He lingers at his driver’s door, addressing me over the roof of his Nova. “You’re fucking ridiculous. You know that? The rules are simple.” He slices his hand left and right. “Stay between the mayonnaise and mustard.”

“Since when are you a stickler for rules? Oh, yeah...only when I’m dusting your ass. If you spent a little more time under your hood than under skirts, you might actually fucking beat me one day.”

Sean shuts his car door and joins me at mine. “Day isn’t over yet, asshole.” He claps me on the back as we head toward the lobby door for Tyler’s update. Tyler’s made it his mission since our warehouse heist to get to the bottom of the who by utilizing his military contacts.

Our major setback with this is that if we attempt to dish out justice on something of this caliber, it could bring attention to our secret. Just as I’m sifting through the odds we’re up against, Tyler pulls into the parking lot. We both head toward his truck for an update when I hear my name called.