Page 9 of Twisted Trust (Mafia Lords of Sin #10)

LEVI

H er agreement is unexpected and I swallow the further arguments balancing on my tongue.

No need to make a bigger deal out of this than there is.

I should kill her.

I spent five years swearing that if I ever saw her again then I would make sure to kill her slowly, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do it.

Every time I consider it as she trails behind Chip and me, the face of that child bursts into my mind like some kind of warning.

Am I being guilt-tripped by my own thoughts?

Or something more?

I called Naz last night hoping to talk it over with him, but he’s been too busy to return my calls.

Anyone else I speak to will tell me to kill her straight for the honor of the Syndicate.

But something stops me.

I blame the child haunting my mind but maybe it’s something else.

Maeve walks after us with her arms wrapped around her middle and her breathing pace seemingly matching her steps.

She doesn’t speed up even as we draw away from her and in the end, we have to wait for her to catch up by the car.

She doesn’t even look at me when Chip opens the door for her and she slides inside.

He raises one brow at me as I pass him, and a brief, silent conversation passes between us.

He thinks I’m about to off her in the back of the car.

I’d never do that to the leather.

Maeve sits as far away from me as she can reach, which is pressed right back against the panel separating us from Chip in the driving section of the limo.

She appears to quickly register her error of getting in first because her eyes dart between me and the door, her only means of escape, that I’m now sitting beside.

Defiant, her chin lifts and she turns her gaze out the window to the city streets passing us by.

“You never used to get panic attacks.” In all my months of obsessing over every detail of her, I surely would have noticed.

“Things change,” she replies shortly.

The skin across her chest visible through the gap in her shirt is flushed pink and hot, with crimson lines clawing up her elegant throat.

A throat I’ve mapped countless times with my lips and teeth.

She used to melt under me each time I kissed up to underneath her left ear.

Her most sensitive spot.

“Why?”

She refuses to look at me. “Why what?”

“Why were you panicking? You were always in control of yourself. What changed?”

Her eyelashes flicker as she rolls her eyes. “Panic attacks aren’t a sign of weakness, but of course, someone like you would think that.”

“Then educate me.”

“That’s not my job.”

She hasn’t lost her irritatingly sharp wit, at least. “You could tell me or we could spend the entirety of this ride with me trying to guess all the possible scenarios that would send someone like you into a panic.”

She glances briefly at me and then the door, likely weighing up her chances of escaping the vehicle against my own irritating tirade of questions.

She comes to a conclusion and her shoulders droop slightly. “It was a long day.”

“No.” What a half-assed excuse. “Long days don’t result in that.”

“And you claim to need education,” Maeve mutters.

“Tell me or I guess.”

Years ago, this would have been friendly banter that dissolved into tickling or a make-out session.

Now it’s a battle.

“I was fired.”

Oh. Not at the top of my list of guesses. “Why?”

“Because of you.”

Her head snaps around to face me and fire blazes in her gorgeous blue eyes, like the first rays of sun creeping across the ocean.

“Me?”

“Yes! Because of you, I got into trouble from maintenance last week, which is a mark on my record, and then this week, I just happened to piss off someone so rich that the hotel would rather fire me than risk losing the thousands he spends on rooms. Because appeasing fucking rich assholes like you is all this city cares about. I’ve spent years ensuring pompous fucks like you have the time of their life here, but that apparently means nothing once some fucker gets his wallet out and starts threatening to never come back! So yes, I blame you.”

There’s pain hidden in Maeve’s voice.

It surges up each time she swears, like each curse is a lock keeping her true feelings simmering beneath the surface.

She’s hurting and for some reason, she blames me.

After what happened in the elevator last week, there’s a chance I carry some of the blame, but if I’d known it would be an issue, I would have cleared that up with the hotel owner immediately.

But why do I care?

So what if she’s jobless?

That’s nothing compared to what she’s done in the past.

“You really think what happened in the elevator was the swaying factor in your employment?”

I can’t stop myself.

I’m pushing and snarking like a reflex and my heart aches at the sudden yet brief flash of hurt in Maeve’s eyes.

Then her expression hardens like stone.

“Yes, I do. If you hadn’t shown your ugly face around here, then I wouldn’t be off my game, so yes, it’s entirely your own fault.”

“If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead in that parking lot.”

Maeve’s shoulders tense suddenly and she looks back out the window with her head tilted, ignoring me the best she can.

But I can’t have that.

Now that she’s talking to me and her voice is pouring into my soul like liquid honey, I can’t stop.

Even though she hates me and I hate her, I think, I can’t stop pushing.

It’s like pressing on a bruise you know will hurt because there’s some kind of satisfaction there too.

“You know, if my presence was such an issue then you could run away. You’re good at that.”

Even with her head turned, I can see her eyes narrow.

“Kind of the only thing you’re good at,” I continue, trying to goad her into talking to me again. “If all it took was one elevator incident, then maybe you’re kind of terrible at your job.”

“Fuck you!” she snaps and her thick, dark curls bounce around her face as she spins to face me. This time, she adjusts herself in her seat so her entire body is angled toward me. “You don’t know me, so don’t you dare sit there and act like you do.”

“Of course I don’t know you. You broke my heart and ran for the hills because you’re ice cold, Maeve. Maybe your boss saw that and realized it was chilling the guests.”

“I’m ice cold? How dare you sit there and accuse me of being the one who ran after the shit you pulled?”

“Me? I only ever reacted to your bullshit, Maeve. That’s all I’ve ever done and probably why you found it so easy to manipulate me.”

“ I’m the manipulator?” Maeve’s eyes widen in anger and her words develop a sharp, dangerous edge. “How can you sit there and say that? You in your fancy fucking suit thinking the whole world revolves around you when it’s your decisions that kill the people around you!”

I can’t stop.

I should stop and ask for clarity but I’m enjoying talking to her far too much to care about anything else.

“Sounds like you’re projecting. I mean look at you, Maeve. Why are you even here? Who really runs away to Las Vegas? Did you think you could lose yourself in the noise, is that it? Did you lose your kid’s father too?”

Maeve suddenly picks up one of the small bottles of alcohol resting on the drinks cabinet across from her and launches it at me with a yell. “Don’t fucking talk about my kid!”

I duck the bottle and it hits the back windshield with a crash, sending a small wave of bourbon and a hundred glass shards all down the back of the leather seats.

Chip is going to be pissed .

“Does that make you feel better?” I challenge, not in the least bit fazed by her anger.

It’s better than this weird, cold, uncaring attitude she had in the elevator. “That anger inside you, it’s there because you know it’s over, don’t you? You’ve spent all these years running from what you did but there’s nowhere to hide now. I’ve got you, Maeve, exactly where I want you.”

She doesn’t falter.

Maeve grabs a second bottle and smashes it down on the counter, sending another small wave of alcohol over the pine wood shelf and onto the smooth floor.

Brandishing a shard of glass clutched in her palm, she waves it toward me.

“Let me out!”

“What will you do if I don’t?”

“Do you really want to test me?” she snarls. “You’re convinced I did something awful so ask yourself if I wouldn’t do something equally awful to get back to my son. Now let me out of the fucking car!”

Just as her yell of rage pitches high in fury, Chip’s gentle voice drifts over the speaker above us. “We’re here.”

The limo pulls to a gentle stop and there’s a long moment of silence where Maeve and I simply stare at one another with the shard glittering in her fist, held aloft between us.

Her eyes are wide and wild and her hair seems to match with the way the untamed waves are balancing on her shoulders.

Her chest heaves much like it did with her earlier panic attack, but this time, there’s fire in her blood, and part of me understands it.

Maeve will do absolutely anything for her son.

It’s admirable.

The door beside me opens and Chip steps aside to let me out.

Maintaining eye contact with Maeve, I slide out of the car and step aside.

She follows a few seconds later and Chip immediately goes for his gun when she spots the glass shard she brandishes as a weapon.

I calm him with a brief flick of my wrist.

“Don’t ever come near me ever again, understand?” Maeve barks.

“You know I can’t do that,” I say softly, and disappointment swells in my chest.

I don’t want this to be over. I’d fight with her all night just to have a conversation with her.

I don’t care how many glass shards she’d hold to my throat.

“Leave me alone!” She stumbles backward and nearly trips on the curb.

Chip jerks forward as if to catch her but she aims the glass at him instead so he hesitates.

She maintains angry eye contact with me until she’s at the base of the metal stairs leading up to her apartment, then she turns and sprints up them as if the hounds of hell are snapping at her ankles.

“What the fuck did you do?” Chip breathes after a moment. “She was as quiet as a mouse when she got in the car.”

“We just talked,” I reply casually, leaning against the side of the limo. “Sort of.”

“Talked?” Chip finally takes his hand off his gun and sighs as he places both hands on his narrow hips. “What are you doing, Levi?”

“Huh?” Tearing my attention away from her building, I meet his curious gaze. “What am I doing?”

“If you’re going to kill her, then kill her. It’s cruel to toy with her.”

“Should I kill her kid too?”

Chip’s lips part and he grunts softly. “We don’t kill kids.”

“Exactly.”

“Years and years I’ve listened to you rant about how badly you want to kill her.

By some weird stroke of luck, we find her, and you call an ambulance.

I understand it because we have that kid as a witness.

But this?” He gestures toward the building.

“You say she’s a traitor. She’s the reason so many of our men died, right? ”

Right.

I never should have let her live this long and yet doubt gnaws away at my heart. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” His brow darts up to his hairline. “Now there’s a maybe ?”

Confiding in Chip risks breaking the seal of trust that Naz and I have built since I went to work for him for two years, but having him on my side can’t do much harm.

He’s suffered almost as much as I have and if he turns around to stab me in the back, then it’ll be obvious it’s him.

“Nazario and I spent a lot of time together when I was doing reparations with him and The Wolves.”

Chip nods and his brows lower, knitting together as he listens.

“One night, we talked about how it went down that day. The explosions, the mysterious gunmen, and the fact that even the product itself was rigged to blow. He’s not convinced Maeve was the leak.

And if she was, then he’s certain she wasn’t working alone.

She’s smart, there’s no denying that, but she’s not assassinate an entire Mafia kind of smart. ”

“But she’s a member of the Red Serpents, right?” Chip briefly glances back at her building. “Isn’t that who is really behind all of that?”

“Maybe.” Tension swirls in my gut suddenly, so I attempt to massage it away with my hand. “It’s complicated, but after talking it over with Naz, I think he’s right. If I take away my own feelings of hurt and try to look at it objectively, then Naz has a really good point. But telling anyone this…”

“Runs the risk of whoever she was working with catching wind and making for the hills, assuming they’re still around.”

“Exactly. And I… I’ve carried the guilt and blame for years, so if there’s a chance I can get my hands on the real culprit, then I can’t pass it up.”

Chip nods slowly. “I understand. I wish you’d told me sooner. I’d been planning how to take her out if you didn’t have the guts.”

“The guts?” I scoff, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“I see the way you look at her, even now.” Chip snorts with amusement. “You get all weird and gooey. You always have. She’s like some kind of drug or something.”

“Listen, she’s not?—”

“ LEVI !”

Maeve’s scream fills me with a sudden, unique sense of cold dread that immediately sends my heart racing as if her very voice is a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.

We both turn and see Maeve stumbling down the steps and racing full speed toward me with her hair streaming behind her and tears pouring down her ghostly pale cheeks.

Chip unholsters his gun immediately.

“What is it?” I demand as Maeve crashes into me with a sobbing gasp. “Maeve, what’s wrong?”

“He’s gone!” she gasps in between heart-wrenching sobs. “Scott’s gone!”