Page 29

Chapter twenty-nine

Clarion House, London

Hunter

Panic slams into me, real, raw, and worse than anything I’ve ever felt in the line of fire. I lunge at Isabella, pulling her to the ground and laying my body over hers. If anything happened to her here and now, I’d never forgive myself. Our men pour onto the stage, creating an army around us, a line of defense against the enemy.

From our position on stage, I watch on as the sea of sequins and bowties run in all directions for cover. Like gazelles under a lion’s stare, they duck beneath tables or dash into concealed doorways. Lombardi’s men congregate around him in a protective circle. They take their boss off stage, completely ignoring his future wife crouched in a ball, hands over her head, frozen to the spot. Her eyes flick to him, the desolation on her face saying that this was the life she expected. One where she is not important to those she should be.

“Stay down,” I whisper in Isabella’s ear, then push myself to my feet, pulling my knife from my waistband, the cold metal grounding me in the madness. I step in front of Tilly, scanning the room for any obvious threat. There is none. No more bullets, no men I don’t know. My niece glances up at me, her eyes wide and filled with fear.

“What’s going on?” she stutters, looking every inch the young, immature woman I know she is.

“A warning,” I reply, my heart rate returning to something almost normal as Damon and Greyson appear at my side.

“Hunter, we need to go,” Damon says. “It’s too open here. We need to get cover.”

I shake my head. Whoever the bastards are that have ruined my event tonight, I want them found, now.

“Just find out who fired the shots,” I tell him. “If they wanted to kill me, they’d have done it by now. Have the men sweep the whole building, and get the surveillance team onto the camera footage. Find the bastards so I can kill them.”

“Hunter, I think…”

“Now’s not the time to play cop. Fucking do as you’re told,” I spit, spinning my knife between my fingers. The rage and fury building fast.

“On it, Boss,” Damon responds. It’s not until he’s walking away that I register his nod to our hierarchy. We were good friends before he became my right-hand man, but all leaders must pull rank sometimes. This is one of those times.

Isabella is back on her feet, surrounded by Ronan and a few other guards. He nods in my direction, a silent signal that she’s under his protection and I should do what I need to do for now. My attention moves to my niece; the situation is dangerous, and she needs to be taken somewhere safe.

“Greyson, take Tilly to my suite and stay there with her. Don’t let anyone in, unless it’s myself or McKinney.” I throw him the keycard. “She must stay alive. The situation is too volatile for this deal not to happen.”

Greyson gathers up my niece, abandoned by her soon-to-be husband, and ushers her away from the ballroom. Similar happens to Isabella with Ronan as I spot her red dress disappearing into the crowd. I turn back to my men, barking orders to spread out, find the gunmen, search every damn inch of this bloody place until we find whoever is responsible.

After jumping down from the stage, I make my way toward the reception area again. I am halfway through shouting another order when Bella collides into me, arms tight and eyes wild. No tears are streaming down her cheeks with shock like I would expect. All that I can see is fury.

“Who did this?” she snarls. “How dare they…”

“Bella…” I soothe. “It was a warning. No one was hurt.” Damon appears at my shoulder, and I look to him for reassurance. He nods, and mouths no casualties . “Go home, my love. I will be with you when I can.”

“No,” she hisses. “I want to stay with you. What if you get injured? What if whoever it is comes back for you?”

“We don’t even know if I was the target.”

“Who else would be?” That makes me laugh as my guest list of the rich and influential runs through my head. I graze her cheek with my thumb.

“I love you, Bella. More than my own life. And I love that you love me enough to think I could be the only person here worth killing.” I lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. Damon’s hovering presence tells me he wants to talk. “Now, go home, have a bath and I’ll be with you shortly.”

“No,” she argues again.

“As your husband, do me the honor of knowing you’re safe and go home. I’ll survive much more easily not being distracted by you.” That makes the sides of her mouth quirk up, a small giggle escaping. “So, please be a good wife and for once do as you’re told.”

“Okay,” she relents, releasing me reluctantly. Ronan appears again, which pisses me off that he has likely been looking for her, and that means he lost sight of her as she came to find me. I promise to assess his suitability when the current situation is resolved. Bella turns away and takes a step toward the exit, just as I check my watch.

“And Bella,” I call, causing her to glance back over her shoulder. “Wait a moment. We have a new year to bring in together.” She smiles softly, then returns to my side. We both watch the second hand on my watch tick down to midnight. As I drop my lips to hers, the nearby church bells echo through the streets, signifying the start of another year. A reminder that time keeps moving even when your world is on fire.

Then she follows Ronan from Clarion House like I asked her to, a vision of my future and the new book I want to write in the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

After taking a few moments to gather my thoughts, I look to Damon for what our next steps should be. The chances are this attack is a warning from Rodion; the risk to our arrangement and to my niece is real.

“The team is conducting a thorough search of the hotel and grounds,” Damon says as we walk together. He passes me an earpiece so I can communicate with the team. “We’ll find the gunman.”

“Where did the bullets hit?” I ask. He stops then turns to face me. “When there are bullets there are bullet holes.”

“You would think, but we haven’t found any.”

He leaves that fact hanging in the air and begins to walk again. We take an aimless path through the ground floor of the hotel, both of us uncertain what we’re looking for. It’s then in the corner, I spot movement, someone darting through a doorway to the rear of the restaurant we are in. Blonde hair disappears into the darkness, a staff member perhaps. But there is something about the way she moved that was familiar.

“Did you see that?” I say to Damon.

“What?”

“A woman, just disappeared down through that door.” His eyes follow the direction of my own, and he narrows his eyes in confusion.

“That’s a store cupboard,” he mutters. “I’ll go take a look.” Damon raises his gun as he approaches the door, taking one slow step at a time. “Who’s in there? Come out with your hands up.”

“Fuck’s sake, McKinney. You’re not a cop now,” I goad. He ignores me. “Come out with your hands up,” I mimic. Once a cop always a fucking cop.

As Damon undertakes his little crime show with some random woman in a closet, I decide to check in on my niece. Pressing the little red button at my ear, I ask Greyson for an update. He doesn’t respond. A second attempt of contact ends with the same result. I hate when people don’t fucking respond.

Damon reappears, the arm of a young woman in his grasp. She’s tall and willowy, her face streaked with fearfulness and tears. Kasia’s eyes meet mine, and she stares at me with terrified defiance. The dark tracksuit she wears is ripped in various places, and dirt is streaked over her hands and face.

“She was trying to climb into the air vent when I found her,” Damon says.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, striding toward her, my knife poised, ready to strike. Her jaw ticks, but she doesn’t reply, so I place the blade at the base of her throat. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

“I have nothing to say,” she replies, her tone eerily calm. “Nothing matters. They will die.”

“Who?” I push the tip into her skin, enough to part the pink flesh. Her mouth closes, lips shut tight. With a look to Damon, he signals we can come back to this. It’s obvious Kasia is involved in whatever this is, but how we don’t know. “Take her back to the mansion. We can deal with her later.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“And get Greyson on the line, he’s not answering.”

“Just press the second button. If his headset is off, it will come back on. He reported they had reached the suite safely.”

“Get her out of my sight.” I wave a hand in Kasia’s direction, then press the green button that activates all headsets in the system to transmit. Immediately, I hear Greyson speaking. The other lines sit silent, men going about their tasks and only speaking when needed.

“What do you like?” his deep Scottish accent asks. I listen intently; my interest piqued by what could be being discussed. Damon, who was escorting Kasia to another guard to transport home, stops. He tenses, then turns back to face me. He can hear this too.

“When you call me Tilly,” my niece responds. “It’s as if you know me. It’s like what we have is real. Whatever it is.”

My eyes snap to Damon, and I give him a look asking if he fucking knew about this. He stares back blandly and shrugs. I stay silent, listening to their conversation about being friends, then more than friends, and how a few days running from the Russian mafia in Scotland brought them together.

Greyson hammers the final nail into his coffin. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

Not only has he touched what is not his to have, he has stood against me in betrayal. Tilly’s upcoming marriage is non-negotiable. I won’t allow any man to stand in the way.

“Next time you have to have an intimate conversation, Greyson,” I say, attempting to keep my voice calm. “Take the earpiece out. What the fuck is going on? If you’ve touched my niece…” I rip the earpiece off, throwing it on the floor and stamping on it in fury.

The insanity of the past few hours peaks. All the planning and negotiations, the organization of tonight that has all fallen to pieces, comes to a head. If I can’t find the man who fired the shots and ruined my night, I’ll take my wrath out on the next best thing—the man who touched my niece who wasn’t his to touch.

I run for the stairs, climbing them two at a time. Within moments, Damon is beside me, matching my stride step for step. We reach the penthouse suite, and I make a beeline for the door.

“What are you going to do?” Damon asks me.

“Kill him.”

“Hunter.” I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s strong and calm as he always is when dealing in a situation like this. The only time I’ve ever seen him at his lowest is when the people he loves are in danger, otherwise he’s a rock. “Think before acting. Greyson is a key asset.”

“Everyone is replaceable.”

“Not easily.”

As I turn back to the door, it opens, and I am standing face to face with the man I want to kill. My mind blanks, rage overriding reason. I trusted Greyson. He took advantage. That’s all the permission I need.

The blade leaves my fingers on impulse, lodging in his shoulder with slick precision. He grunts, then reaches up and pulls it free as if it’s no more than a toothpick.

“Not here, not in front of her.” He stares at me, almost impassive, resigned to the fate his actions have carved for him.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” I snarl, marching forward and taking my knife from his fingers. I swipe it upwards and place it against his throat.

“Uncle Hunter, please don’t hurt him,” Tilly wails. “He’s the reason I’m alive.”

And the reason my business dealings are now under threat, I think with disgust. I spare her a glance. She’s glares back at me, almost a reflection of myself, full of defiance. The nagging doubt that I’m making the wrong decision nips, but I can’t change course. Power before family, that’s how I was brought up. I need to see this through. “Let him go.”

“Back in your box, little princess,” I warn her.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Greyson says, and I increase the pressure of my knife on his skin. Red oozes down the metal. “Show some respect. She’s your family.” His continued protection of her catches me off guard. Greyson is doing what he can to help Tilly even though he knows his fate is sealed. There is no walking out of this alive for him.

His actions make me question myself for a moment. If this was a quick fumble due to opportunity, would he stand up to the head of the Irish mafia on his conquest’s behalf? Is there more to this than there appears? But Tilly and Greyson have known each other less than a month; no bond could be created strong enough that you would die for in such a short amount of time. I’ve loved Isabella for decades. This can’t be the same thing.

Damon steps up behind me, tapping my shoulder and whispering that this is not the appropriate setting for my revenge. I release Greyson, and Damon puts him in handcuffs. He grunts when his damaged arm is pulled around his back.

“Shut the fuck up, or no matter what McKinney says, I’ll castrate you in front of my damn reckless niece.”

Once Damon is happy his prisoner is restrained, we all make our way back to the elevator in silence. I don’t look at Tilly as the doors close. I don’t trust myself to, because in this moment, it’s not Rodion I want to kill, it’s Greyson ― and possibly the girl who gave him permission to touch her.

Damon watches me closely, as if waiting for me to crack. I don’t. I just lean back in the elevator, blood on my hands, betrayal in my chest, and my knife still warm.

“Remind me,” I say quietly, “what happens to men who forget their place?”

Damon doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

And for the first time in years, I don’t know if I’m protecting my empire or destroying it with my own hands.