The Deadliest Sin Series Complete Collection, page 108
My words came out far angrier than I’d intended them, my accent dripping off them with my rage. It always seems to surface more when I lose my cool. And this entire situation just went from fucked to beyond fucked.
How in the fucking world did Cutter Fucking Jackson’s sister end up working for me?
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a stiff whiskey, tossing it back in one gulp and gritting my teeth against the burn that slides down my throat. It’s nothing compared to the heat that sizzled between that woman and me only minutes ago. Nothing compared to the inferno that will engulf me soon if I don’t figure out what the fuck to do with her and about the apparent line of people out in this city who want me dead.
It would be easier to count those who don’t.
A knock at the front door has both Luke and me tensing, and he inclines his head toward it to indicate he'll answer. He checks the peep hole, then opens the door and steps back to allow someone to enter. Considering only a handful of people know about this place, and I trust them all with my life, it must be one of the men coming with news—hopefully good.
I sure as shit could use some.
Jamie strolls in and nods at me, his pale red hair shifting over his forehead with the motion. “Sir.”
“Have anything for me?”
He approaches and leans against the couch while I pour another drink. “My source at Chicago PD says six dead at the church, including one of the shooters in black. No ID on him yet.”
“Any idea who are the other casualties?”
“Looks like two of Rose’s guys, one of Kat’s, one of ours, and one of Valerian’s who were all out front of the church or in the back when they came in shooting.”
And I would have been added to that list if I hadn't been able to sneak out that side fucking door and get to the car while they were occupied firing on everyone else.
Luke shifts, glancing at the door to the room where I have Nicki stashed. “I’ve been waiting for further confirmation, but from what I've been able to gather, Cutter was hit, so was Kat.”
“Good.” I snarl, tightening my hand on my glass. “The fucking bitch deserves it.”
All of this started the day she set foot in Chicago. She set that bomb and tried to take out all the families in one fell swoop. She took out Michael Syla and pushed her way into Rose’s business and Valentina’s territory. She attacked Valerian and me, going right to the hearts of our businesses after promising not to. And I wouldn’t put it past her to be somehow involved in what happened at the church, too.
If anyone deserved to take a bullet tonight, it was her.
Luke sighs at my comment. “But neither have life-threatening injuries.”
“Shit. And here I thought I finally had some good luck.”
Kat out of the picture would solve a lot of problems, and if Cutter had been hurt badly enough, it might resolve the issue of the feisty, beautiful, infuriating blond in the other room.
“You let me know as soon as anyone hears anything. We need to know what went down at the church and who was behind it. We can’t fight an enemy we don’t know.” I take a sip of the whiskey in my glass, the familiar flavor dancing on my tongue the same way Nicki’s did. “What about our problem from south of the border?”
Jamie glances at Luke before he speaks, almost as if he doesn’t want to be the one to answer me. “Well, no word from them after they hit the bar. But we’re keeping an eye out for any future problems.”
And there will undoubtedly be future problems with them.
They're not going to let what we did that night go unchecked. The attack on the bar was only the beginning of their retaliation. If the man running their organization is anything like me, he won’t stop until we’re all wiped out.
But we didn't have a choice. We had to hit their shipment. We had to send a message. This family has been moving the majority of the guns through Chicago and the Midwest for decades, and now, these wee bastards think they're gonna step in and take over parts of my territory.
Over my dead fucking body. Literally.
Until these fuckers finally manage to stop me from breathing, I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep what I’ve earned. I may have made a promise that I would stop once I found Nessa, that I would let this world go once my sister was safe, but I can’t stop now. Not when I’ve come this far and fought this hard.
“We have to do whatever it takes to protect our territory and our most lucrative businesses.” I tip my drink toward the men I rely on the most. “Things are getting messy and will likely continue to get worse. We can’t let it stop us.”
If we lose any of our clients to an upstart from Mexico thinking they can come in and sell weapons—likely at a cheaper price to sway them over—we’re going to lose our power soon after. It’s a slippery slope I have no intention of falling down.
Luke and Jamie nod their understanding.
Jamie steps toward the door and pauses. “We're on it, sir. No one will touch you again.”
Hell, the only one I want touching me right now is the one I absolutely can’t have.
I down the rest of my drink as the ring of my phone breaks the momentary silence of the condo. With a grimace, I set down my empty glass and grab the offending device from my pocket.
Valerian’s number flashes across the screen, and despite my reservations about his motives at the church and potential involvement, he’s the only “friend” I have right now.
“I need to take this.”
Luke inclines his head toward me and disappears out into the hallway after Jamie.
The door clicks closed behind him, and I turn to one of the windows facing the street and peer out while I answer. “Hello?”
“How are you feeling, comrade?”
The slight humor in his question makes my clench my fingers around the phone. “Fucking grand.” Besides the fucking holes in my arm and no clue who fucking shot me. “Just got an update from my men.”
“Me, too. That's why I was calling.”
“Do you have any info on the I.D. of the shooter?”
It’s the ultimate question, the answer to which will affect everything going forward. Not being able to trust anyone is like being stuck alone on an island surrounded by hungry sharks, all of them snapping at me every time I try to enter the water.
Valerian sighs. “Not yet. But those Eastern European weapons and your accusation earlier have gotten me thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe somebody wanted everyone to believe it was me.”
“Maybe?”
Or maybe it was you.
The entire “truce” between us over the last couple of years might be part of some long game Valerian is playing, one I’ve been an unwilling pawn in. He could be scrambling now that his plan backfired and he wasn’t able to take out anyone who mattered.
No. That's just my paranoia talking.
Valerian and I have had this mutually beneficial relationship for a while. There's no reason for him to fuck it up. Not when there are other, bigger threats out there like the Rose twins and Kat. Valentina and Cutter will stay in their own lanes, but the others…they’ll never be content with what they have.
And neither will I.
Some may call it greed, some may call it pride, but I call it doing what’s necessary, no matter the price to be paid in the end.
“Perhaps someone is trying to break apart our alliance by putting doubt into your head, Galen?”
“It’s definitely possible.” I watch a dark sedan drive slowly down the street and step back from the window, unease coiling around my spine. “We need to find out who has been bringing in AK-74s. Have you?”
“We only bring in what we need for our men. I don’t touch your business in that respect, but I haven’t brought in any AK-74s.”
“See what you can dig up on that.” My arm throbs, and I slowly roll my shoulder, trying to relieve some of it. All I manage to do is send an even sharper pain through my bicep. “I heard Kat and Cutter both got hit but are doing okay.”
“That's what I heard, too. Too bad, huh? It would have been nice to get rid of them both.”
I chuckle despite every reason not to in this moment. At least Valerian and I are on the same page there, but if he had any idea how bad things could get with our Italian friends soon, he would have a few choice words for me. “Speaking of our old friend Cutter…” I swallow thickly, glancing over my shoulder at the closed door. “Did you know he has a sister?”
Silence lingers through the line for a moment, like Valerian is trying to process my words. “What? No. How the hell did you find that out?”
By shoving my damn tongue down her throat…
“A source.”
“You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, Galen, because if you are, then you’re hammering the final nail in your own coffin.”
“Don't I fucking know it.”
NICKI
This time, when the door to the room opens and I lift my head and blink against the light, Galen stands in the door wearing a clean shirt, looking every bit as angry as he did when he threw me in here. The hours he’s left me in here haven’t done anything to quell his rage, and maybe that’s a good thing.
If he’s mad, there’s no risk of anything else happening between us again…short of him shooting me.
He presses his lips together in a firm line and glares at me. “Get up.”
“Why?”
“Because there's something you need to do.”
An icy blast rockets through my veins, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. I shift up from the mattress and over the side of the bed, rubbing my arms slowly to try to dissipate the chill.
It doesn’t work, and as I walk on shaky legs toward him, my entire body begins to vibrate—both from fear and because getting close to this man is dangerous on so many levels.
“What's going on?”
Whatever happened between us before I made the big reveal seems like ancient history. The only fire in his gaze is one of wrath, not the lust that sizzled there when I knelt between his legs and he slammed his lips to mine.
“You're going to call Cutter.”
“What?” I stop in front of him. “Why the hell would you want me to call him?”
It seems counterintuitive. If I call, Galen is opening the door for me to tip off Cutter about where I am and why. That wouldn’t end well for either of us.
Galen scowls at me, his jaw set hard. “I need to know what they know. I need to know if the Italians were behind the shooting at the church or if they know who was. Nobody else seems to be able to find out anything right now, and I know Cutter has someone on his team who can hack anything and may have found out information that might help us.”
That’s certainly true. Preacher is an absolute god when it comes to finding information, but it’s still a risk. A huge one. Especially considering my relationship status with big brother.
“And what makes you think he's going to tell me anything?”
Galen takes a step toward me, but in the jamb of the door, there’s no room for me to retreat. “Because you're his sister. You're going to call him, tell him that you saw about the shooting on TV, and that you wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“Shit.” I scrub my hands over my face and lean against the doorjamb. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not.” He hands me my phone someone must have dug out of my purse. “I'm going to be standing right next to you, listening to every fucking word. Don't try anything stupid.”
Yeah, right. Like kissing you…
We went from kidnapping, to running for our lives, to bickering, to smashing our damn lips together. All in the span of a day. The insanity of the whole situation is not lost on me.
Why do I always choose the wrong men?
I hold his slicing green gaze and dial Cutter’s number, putting it on speaker so Galen can hear. Each ring tightens the vise around my chest more and more until he finally answers, and my breath rushes out of my lungs in one big whoosh.
“Nick, what's wrong?”
Of course, he would assume something's wrong. Why else would I be calling him?
My annoyance at his assumption is tempered by a sudden rush of hope at hearing his familiar voice. No matter what happened between us, no matter how much he pushed me away and cut me out of his life, he’s still my brother. You can’t change blood.
Galen watches me closely, staying within reach so he can grab the phone from my hand if he needs to.
I clear my throat, trying to clear the emotion clogging it. “Um, I just heard about a shooting at a church here in Chicago. They said something about the five families being there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
A moment of dead silence lingers through the line before Cutter issues a deep sigh. “Jesus, Nicki, I can't talk to you about this on the fucking phone.”
“Just tell me you're okay.”
He mutters an indecipherable curse under his breath. “I'm okay.”
Galen nods toward the phone in my hand, encouraging me to push forward. “Do you know who did the shooting? The news says—”
“I told you I can't fucking talk about this. All you need to know is that I'm okay. This really isn’t a good time, Nick. I have to go—”
“Wait, Cutter…”
“What?”
Galen’s large hand falls to my shoulder, and he squeezes it in warning. I swallow back everything I had intended to say. The apology for not pushing harder to bridge the gap between us. The request for help escaping from this quagmire of a situation. Instead, the only three words I can think of tumble from my mouth. Ones I haven’t said to him or anyone else in so damn long, they feel foreign on my lips.
“I-I love you.”
The words reverberate through the air, heavy with a hundred other things I should have said. And this time, the silence I get in response lingers long enough to make even Galen shift uncomfortably. He knows something is wrong, something is off between Cutter and me. It has been for so long that I’ve become accustomed to it, but Galen had no idea how bad it really was until this exact moment.
He snatches the phone from my hand and hits the end button before Cutter can either do the same or issue some half-assed mumbled response.
I run my shaking hands through my hair, trying not to quiver violently under the death glare Galen is casting at me. “I told you he wasn't going to tell me anything. He has no reason to.”
Galen shoves my phone into his pocket and paces out into the living room, rubbing at the back of his neck with his good hand, his other tucked against his side protectively. The tension and lack of sleep are mixing with his building frustration to form something volatile and combustible. He’s on the edge of blowing, and I’m the only one in the path of the shrapnel.
His heavy footsteps smack against the hard wood. Back and forth. Back and forth. While I stand frozen, watching him, waiting for him to erupt.
“This has all turned into a fucking shit show.” His mumbled words are loud enough for me to hear, but whether they were said for my benefit or meant to be for himself, I’m not entirely sure.
Understatement much?
This isn’t the confident man everyone says he is. Not the confident man I’ve seen him be in flashes during the short time I’ve known him. This isn’t the man who has led the Irish family in Chicago for so many years and earned a reputation as an unflappable leader.
He’s off-kilter. Drifting. Lost. Human.
That can be very dangerous for a man in his position.
And for me.
NICKI
Galen narrows his shrewd gaze on me as I lower myself into one of the chairs in the living room to stop my legs from shaking. “He might not have told you anything about the shooting, but he told me a lot about what's going on with you.”
“What?”
He walks over to stand in front of me, staring down with a heat that makes me shift uncomfortably. “Your brother didn't seem too happy to be hearing from you. Why is that?”
Shit. Was is that obvious how strained our relationship is these days?
The fact that I'm pretty much on the outs with Cutter could help me or hurt me right now, and I have no fucking idea which. If we were close, Galen might be concerned enough about what Cutter will do to just let me go, but if we aren’t, he might let me go because I don’t pose a threat.
When in doubt, it’s best to just play dumb.
“I'm not sure what you mean.”
He slowly squats down in front of me, somehow maintaining his balance despite how weak he must be. “That was one of the most strained conversations I've ever heard between siblings, Nicki. And it was impossible to miss that awkward silence when you told him you loved him at the end of the call.”
No shit.
My chest tightens even more, threatening to restrict my breathing. “Cutter and I have a very…complicated relationship.”
“Explain.”
I'm not about to delve into my personal relationship with Cutter with this man, not when he already seems to see right through me and makes me do things I know I shouldn't. Like patch him up. Help him. Kiss him. Want to kiss him again.
I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “Just complicated. Can we leave it at that?”
He reaches out and squeezes the top of my knee. “No, we can't. I need to know what's going on between you and your brother so that I can figure out what the hell to do about this entire situation.”
“What ‘situation’?” I throw up air quotes. “The fact that you're holding me hostage here or that you kissed me?”
His lips press into a hard line, but he doesn’t respond, just continues to watch me with eyes that blaze like a fire across an evergreen forest.
I guess that's the only answer I'm going to get…
I sigh and run a hand back to my hair, trying to avoid looking at the man who has me more twisted up than Cutter, the one who changed the entire course of my life.
This can’t get any worse, but maybe if Galen knows why I left Wisconsin, he will understand why Cutter isn’t going to give me any information, why complicated doesn’t even begin to describe what’s happened between us.
How in the fucking world did Cutter Fucking Jackson’s sister end up working for me?
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a stiff whiskey, tossing it back in one gulp and gritting my teeth against the burn that slides down my throat. It’s nothing compared to the heat that sizzled between that woman and me only minutes ago. Nothing compared to the inferno that will engulf me soon if I don’t figure out what the fuck to do with her and about the apparent line of people out in this city who want me dead.
It would be easier to count those who don’t.
A knock at the front door has both Luke and me tensing, and he inclines his head toward it to indicate he'll answer. He checks the peep hole, then opens the door and steps back to allow someone to enter. Considering only a handful of people know about this place, and I trust them all with my life, it must be one of the men coming with news—hopefully good.
I sure as shit could use some.
Jamie strolls in and nods at me, his pale red hair shifting over his forehead with the motion. “Sir.”
“Have anything for me?”
He approaches and leans against the couch while I pour another drink. “My source at Chicago PD says six dead at the church, including one of the shooters in black. No ID on him yet.”
“Any idea who are the other casualties?”
“Looks like two of Rose’s guys, one of Kat’s, one of ours, and one of Valerian’s who were all out front of the church or in the back when they came in shooting.”
And I would have been added to that list if I hadn't been able to sneak out that side fucking door and get to the car while they were occupied firing on everyone else.
Luke shifts, glancing at the door to the room where I have Nicki stashed. “I’ve been waiting for further confirmation, but from what I've been able to gather, Cutter was hit, so was Kat.”
“Good.” I snarl, tightening my hand on my glass. “The fucking bitch deserves it.”
All of this started the day she set foot in Chicago. She set that bomb and tried to take out all the families in one fell swoop. She took out Michael Syla and pushed her way into Rose’s business and Valentina’s territory. She attacked Valerian and me, going right to the hearts of our businesses after promising not to. And I wouldn’t put it past her to be somehow involved in what happened at the church, too.
If anyone deserved to take a bullet tonight, it was her.
Luke sighs at my comment. “But neither have life-threatening injuries.”
“Shit. And here I thought I finally had some good luck.”
Kat out of the picture would solve a lot of problems, and if Cutter had been hurt badly enough, it might resolve the issue of the feisty, beautiful, infuriating blond in the other room.
“You let me know as soon as anyone hears anything. We need to know what went down at the church and who was behind it. We can’t fight an enemy we don’t know.” I take a sip of the whiskey in my glass, the familiar flavor dancing on my tongue the same way Nicki’s did. “What about our problem from south of the border?”
Jamie glances at Luke before he speaks, almost as if he doesn’t want to be the one to answer me. “Well, no word from them after they hit the bar. But we’re keeping an eye out for any future problems.”
And there will undoubtedly be future problems with them.
They're not going to let what we did that night go unchecked. The attack on the bar was only the beginning of their retaliation. If the man running their organization is anything like me, he won’t stop until we’re all wiped out.
But we didn't have a choice. We had to hit their shipment. We had to send a message. This family has been moving the majority of the guns through Chicago and the Midwest for decades, and now, these wee bastards think they're gonna step in and take over parts of my territory.
Over my dead fucking body. Literally.
Until these fuckers finally manage to stop me from breathing, I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep what I’ve earned. I may have made a promise that I would stop once I found Nessa, that I would let this world go once my sister was safe, but I can’t stop now. Not when I’ve come this far and fought this hard.
“We have to do whatever it takes to protect our territory and our most lucrative businesses.” I tip my drink toward the men I rely on the most. “Things are getting messy and will likely continue to get worse. We can’t let it stop us.”
If we lose any of our clients to an upstart from Mexico thinking they can come in and sell weapons—likely at a cheaper price to sway them over—we’re going to lose our power soon after. It’s a slippery slope I have no intention of falling down.
Luke and Jamie nod their understanding.
Jamie steps toward the door and pauses. “We're on it, sir. No one will touch you again.”
Hell, the only one I want touching me right now is the one I absolutely can’t have.
I down the rest of my drink as the ring of my phone breaks the momentary silence of the condo. With a grimace, I set down my empty glass and grab the offending device from my pocket.
Valerian’s number flashes across the screen, and despite my reservations about his motives at the church and potential involvement, he’s the only “friend” I have right now.
“I need to take this.”
Luke inclines his head toward me and disappears out into the hallway after Jamie.
The door clicks closed behind him, and I turn to one of the windows facing the street and peer out while I answer. “Hello?”
“How are you feeling, comrade?”
The slight humor in his question makes my clench my fingers around the phone. “Fucking grand.” Besides the fucking holes in my arm and no clue who fucking shot me. “Just got an update from my men.”
“Me, too. That's why I was calling.”
“Do you have any info on the I.D. of the shooter?”
It’s the ultimate question, the answer to which will affect everything going forward. Not being able to trust anyone is like being stuck alone on an island surrounded by hungry sharks, all of them snapping at me every time I try to enter the water.
Valerian sighs. “Not yet. But those Eastern European weapons and your accusation earlier have gotten me thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe somebody wanted everyone to believe it was me.”
“Maybe?”
Or maybe it was you.
The entire “truce” between us over the last couple of years might be part of some long game Valerian is playing, one I’ve been an unwilling pawn in. He could be scrambling now that his plan backfired and he wasn’t able to take out anyone who mattered.
No. That's just my paranoia talking.
Valerian and I have had this mutually beneficial relationship for a while. There's no reason for him to fuck it up. Not when there are other, bigger threats out there like the Rose twins and Kat. Valentina and Cutter will stay in their own lanes, but the others…they’ll never be content with what they have.
And neither will I.
Some may call it greed, some may call it pride, but I call it doing what’s necessary, no matter the price to be paid in the end.
“Perhaps someone is trying to break apart our alliance by putting doubt into your head, Galen?”
“It’s definitely possible.” I watch a dark sedan drive slowly down the street and step back from the window, unease coiling around my spine. “We need to find out who has been bringing in AK-74s. Have you?”
“We only bring in what we need for our men. I don’t touch your business in that respect, but I haven’t brought in any AK-74s.”
“See what you can dig up on that.” My arm throbs, and I slowly roll my shoulder, trying to relieve some of it. All I manage to do is send an even sharper pain through my bicep. “I heard Kat and Cutter both got hit but are doing okay.”
“That's what I heard, too. Too bad, huh? It would have been nice to get rid of them both.”
I chuckle despite every reason not to in this moment. At least Valerian and I are on the same page there, but if he had any idea how bad things could get with our Italian friends soon, he would have a few choice words for me. “Speaking of our old friend Cutter…” I swallow thickly, glancing over my shoulder at the closed door. “Did you know he has a sister?”
Silence lingers through the line for a moment, like Valerian is trying to process my words. “What? No. How the hell did you find that out?”
By shoving my damn tongue down her throat…
“A source.”
“You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking, Galen, because if you are, then you’re hammering the final nail in your own coffin.”
“Don't I fucking know it.”
NICKI
This time, when the door to the room opens and I lift my head and blink against the light, Galen stands in the door wearing a clean shirt, looking every bit as angry as he did when he threw me in here. The hours he’s left me in here haven’t done anything to quell his rage, and maybe that’s a good thing.
If he’s mad, there’s no risk of anything else happening between us again…short of him shooting me.
He presses his lips together in a firm line and glares at me. “Get up.”
“Why?”
“Because there's something you need to do.”
An icy blast rockets through my veins, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. I shift up from the mattress and over the side of the bed, rubbing my arms slowly to try to dissipate the chill.
It doesn’t work, and as I walk on shaky legs toward him, my entire body begins to vibrate—both from fear and because getting close to this man is dangerous on so many levels.
“What's going on?”
Whatever happened between us before I made the big reveal seems like ancient history. The only fire in his gaze is one of wrath, not the lust that sizzled there when I knelt between his legs and he slammed his lips to mine.
“You're going to call Cutter.”
“What?” I stop in front of him. “Why the hell would you want me to call him?”
It seems counterintuitive. If I call, Galen is opening the door for me to tip off Cutter about where I am and why. That wouldn’t end well for either of us.
Galen scowls at me, his jaw set hard. “I need to know what they know. I need to know if the Italians were behind the shooting at the church or if they know who was. Nobody else seems to be able to find out anything right now, and I know Cutter has someone on his team who can hack anything and may have found out information that might help us.”
That’s certainly true. Preacher is an absolute god when it comes to finding information, but it’s still a risk. A huge one. Especially considering my relationship status with big brother.
“And what makes you think he's going to tell me anything?”
Galen takes a step toward me, but in the jamb of the door, there’s no room for me to retreat. “Because you're his sister. You're going to call him, tell him that you saw about the shooting on TV, and that you wanted to make sure he was okay.”
“Shit.” I scrub my hands over my face and lean against the doorjamb. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not.” He hands me my phone someone must have dug out of my purse. “I'm going to be standing right next to you, listening to every fucking word. Don't try anything stupid.”
Yeah, right. Like kissing you…
We went from kidnapping, to running for our lives, to bickering, to smashing our damn lips together. All in the span of a day. The insanity of the whole situation is not lost on me.
Why do I always choose the wrong men?
I hold his slicing green gaze and dial Cutter’s number, putting it on speaker so Galen can hear. Each ring tightens the vise around my chest more and more until he finally answers, and my breath rushes out of my lungs in one big whoosh.
“Nick, what's wrong?”
Of course, he would assume something's wrong. Why else would I be calling him?
My annoyance at his assumption is tempered by a sudden rush of hope at hearing his familiar voice. No matter what happened between us, no matter how much he pushed me away and cut me out of his life, he’s still my brother. You can’t change blood.
Galen watches me closely, staying within reach so he can grab the phone from my hand if he needs to.
I clear my throat, trying to clear the emotion clogging it. “Um, I just heard about a shooting at a church here in Chicago. They said something about the five families being there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
A moment of dead silence lingers through the line before Cutter issues a deep sigh. “Jesus, Nicki, I can't talk to you about this on the fucking phone.”
“Just tell me you're okay.”
He mutters an indecipherable curse under his breath. “I'm okay.”
Galen nods toward the phone in my hand, encouraging me to push forward. “Do you know who did the shooting? The news says—”
“I told you I can't fucking talk about this. All you need to know is that I'm okay. This really isn’t a good time, Nick. I have to go—”
“Wait, Cutter…”
“What?”
Galen’s large hand falls to my shoulder, and he squeezes it in warning. I swallow back everything I had intended to say. The apology for not pushing harder to bridge the gap between us. The request for help escaping from this quagmire of a situation. Instead, the only three words I can think of tumble from my mouth. Ones I haven’t said to him or anyone else in so damn long, they feel foreign on my lips.
“I-I love you.”
The words reverberate through the air, heavy with a hundred other things I should have said. And this time, the silence I get in response lingers long enough to make even Galen shift uncomfortably. He knows something is wrong, something is off between Cutter and me. It has been for so long that I’ve become accustomed to it, but Galen had no idea how bad it really was until this exact moment.
He snatches the phone from my hand and hits the end button before Cutter can either do the same or issue some half-assed mumbled response.
I run my shaking hands through my hair, trying not to quiver violently under the death glare Galen is casting at me. “I told you he wasn't going to tell me anything. He has no reason to.”
Galen shoves my phone into his pocket and paces out into the living room, rubbing at the back of his neck with his good hand, his other tucked against his side protectively. The tension and lack of sleep are mixing with his building frustration to form something volatile and combustible. He’s on the edge of blowing, and I’m the only one in the path of the shrapnel.
His heavy footsteps smack against the hard wood. Back and forth. Back and forth. While I stand frozen, watching him, waiting for him to erupt.
“This has all turned into a fucking shit show.” His mumbled words are loud enough for me to hear, but whether they were said for my benefit or meant to be for himself, I’m not entirely sure.
Understatement much?
This isn’t the confident man everyone says he is. Not the confident man I’ve seen him be in flashes during the short time I’ve known him. This isn’t the man who has led the Irish family in Chicago for so many years and earned a reputation as an unflappable leader.
He’s off-kilter. Drifting. Lost. Human.
That can be very dangerous for a man in his position.
And for me.
NICKI
Galen narrows his shrewd gaze on me as I lower myself into one of the chairs in the living room to stop my legs from shaking. “He might not have told you anything about the shooting, but he told me a lot about what's going on with you.”
“What?”
He walks over to stand in front of me, staring down with a heat that makes me shift uncomfortably. “Your brother didn't seem too happy to be hearing from you. Why is that?”
Shit. Was is that obvious how strained our relationship is these days?
The fact that I'm pretty much on the outs with Cutter could help me or hurt me right now, and I have no fucking idea which. If we were close, Galen might be concerned enough about what Cutter will do to just let me go, but if we aren’t, he might let me go because I don’t pose a threat.
When in doubt, it’s best to just play dumb.
“I'm not sure what you mean.”
He slowly squats down in front of me, somehow maintaining his balance despite how weak he must be. “That was one of the most strained conversations I've ever heard between siblings, Nicki. And it was impossible to miss that awkward silence when you told him you loved him at the end of the call.”
No shit.
My chest tightens even more, threatening to restrict my breathing. “Cutter and I have a very…complicated relationship.”
“Explain.”
I'm not about to delve into my personal relationship with Cutter with this man, not when he already seems to see right through me and makes me do things I know I shouldn't. Like patch him up. Help him. Kiss him. Want to kiss him again.
I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. “Just complicated. Can we leave it at that?”
He reaches out and squeezes the top of my knee. “No, we can't. I need to know what's going on between you and your brother so that I can figure out what the hell to do about this entire situation.”
“What ‘situation’?” I throw up air quotes. “The fact that you're holding me hostage here or that you kissed me?”
His lips press into a hard line, but he doesn’t respond, just continues to watch me with eyes that blaze like a fire across an evergreen forest.
I guess that's the only answer I'm going to get…
I sigh and run a hand back to my hair, trying to avoid looking at the man who has me more twisted up than Cutter, the one who changed the entire course of my life.
This can’t get any worse, but maybe if Galen knows why I left Wisconsin, he will understand why Cutter isn’t going to give me any information, why complicated doesn’t even begin to describe what’s happened between us.
