Page 8

Chapter 8

Eden

I keep Aiken's strict rule that everyone is out by two AM. However, I'm okay with Gus and Ambrose sticking around for the final closing. Not only because I'm new and a female, but because Aiken's habit had given his murderers an opportunity.

"Go," I order Gus and Ambrose, who hover by my side after we lock up. I point at the car waiting at the curb. "My Uber is here."

"Stubborn, just like her brother," Gus mutters, but he and Ambrose leave, walking around the corner to the back, where their vehicles are.

Exhaustion hits me. The jet lag from Bangkok, the adrenaline from crashing the successor reveal, and being in Aiken's domain are hitting me hard.

Since I just got into town before the funeral, I'm crashing at Aiken's place. Either his ghost will haunt me tonight, or I might feel closer to the brother who I hadn't let myself know these past nine years.

I start walking down the wide pathway from Gilly's to where the Camry, AKA my Uber, idles at the curb. Squealing tires slice the night's quiet, and the Camry races away like a bat out of hell.

"What the fuck… Hey!" I shout as the taillights disappear around the corner.

Frustrated and exhausted, I exhale sharply, scanning around. There's one vehicle left on the street.

A black 1968 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500. It's an amazing car. The Shelby GT500's second year of production was 1968, and it's a beast on wheels.

But seeing who stands outside the beast on wheels—a blue-green-eyed man with a god-like body, who probably has a god-like cock—makes heat bloom in my core, and I scowl at Vito.

He tilts his head. "Looks like you need a ride."

I grind my teeth.

"I know… I really am a fucking cunt." He smiles.

Which shouldn't affect me physically, yet my knees are weak and wetness pools in my panties.

Jesus Christ, what kind of spell does this deadly man have on me?

He studies me, trying to read my impassive face. "Get in, Eden."

He's calling me Eden, not Ed. As if he's resisting my efforts to draw attention away from the let's forget she's a chick .

"I'll order another Uber."

"No, you won't. Get in." His voice is deep and low. Dangerous and drawing me in.

"Vito." I glare at him from the safety of the sidewalk.

"Eden," he growls, then rubs the back of his neck. "It's just a ride."

"Something that could be misconstrued and dangerous to both of us."

His jaw clenches, and he flexes his hands. "Just this once."

Famous last words.

"I want to talk about Aiken." He stares at me and sees the moment I cave, figuring out that this is my Achilles' heel.

I scan around to ensure we're alone and sigh as I reluctantly walk to his car. I get in the passenger side and settle into the comfortable leather seat.

I'm instantly in love.

Vito folds his big frame into the driver's seat and slams the door. One scarred hand grips the wheel while the other goes to the gearshift. When he guns the engine, I swear my cooch releases a bit of wetness at the rumble of the seat, not to mention the sexy-as-sin bastard behind the wheel.

Visions of climbing into Vito's lap and riding him hard and fast assault me, and I force down the surge of lust.

"Nice car. I took you for a douche-Porsche kinda guy, though."

He laughs. He knows damn well that this car fits him perfectly—powerful, rumbly, can lay you flat in four seconds.

"This isn't exactly neutral behavior," I deadpan.

"Just giving you a ride." He shrugs. "Couldn't leave you stranded."

"Stranded, huh?" I scoff. "That Uber just happened to peel away; the driver looking like he shit his pants?"

"Well, it looks like I did you a solid, saving you from a car that smells like shit."

"My knight in shining armor."

"You're welcome, by the way."

I ignore that, looking out the window. "Head north."

"I know."

He knows where I'm going.

Did he know where Aiken lived? Had they been friends? Was Vito possibly involved in his death?

Over the past nine years, I've become a pro at trusting my instincts. For some reason, my instincts are telling me that I can trust Vito and that he didn't have any role in Aiken's murder.

I turn, eyeing him, the streetlights illuminating as we pass under them. His hands are strong and scarred. One has a thick scar under the knuckles and at the base of his thumb, and his other hand has a myriad of thin, crisscrossing scars.

This is a man who doesn't shy away from violence.

He turns, heading in the direction of Aiken's place. "I got the address from the Uber driver," he explains. "Aiken and I weren't… friends."

"What were you, then?"

His jaw shifts as he stares ahead. "What we were supposed to be."

I watch the city pass by in the night.

"I'm sorry about earlier." His voice is quiet. "At the graveyard."

Where he drew my parents' attention to me and our following altercation.

"You'll find many things are off-limits for discussion with me, Vito. Edna and Peter Fallen are at the top of the list."

He studies me but finally nods, letting it go. "How well did you know your brother?"

I stare straight ahead as I consider my response.

"There's an age gap of twelve years between us, so we weren't close in that regard. I left nine years ago, but he eventually found me. After that, the only contact I've had with him was to send an annual text to tell him I was still alive. So honestly, you probably know him better than I do."

The muscle at the back of his jaw bulges and then relaxes. "Friendship in the typical sense—"

"You're implying there is a typical."

He grunts. "It wasn't possible to have any sort of friendship with Aiken, but I felt we had…" His scarred hand rubs his face. "I don't know. We got along, respected each other."

A smile tugs the corner of my mouth. "Are you telling me you had a bro-crush—"

"No," he barks, but then laughs when he realizes I'm taunting him. Then, he suddenly pulls over on a deserted stretch of dark road, and turns to me.

Feeling alarmed—both at being alone with him on the dark, empty street, as well as his intense look.

"He called me , Eden."

My eyes dart between his, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "When he was bleeding out in the bar."

It's like someone sucker-punched me in the gut, and I struggle to catch my breath. "Why? Why would he call you?"

"I don't know. I don't. Fucking. Know."

Why would Aiken call someone he's supposed to have a neutral relationship with? Why wouldn't he have called 911, Gus, or Ambrose? Or any of the Chamber leaders?

"What did he say?" I choke out.

Do I want to know my brother's last dying words?

Vito's eyes work over my face, likely asking himself that same question. He finally answers, "He said three words: ' Vito… Call Ed. '"

I'm reeling as the sucker-punch feeling hits me again.

Aiken… my brother, who I basically disowned, even though he was innocent of our parents' wrongdoings… His dying words were about me.

But why?

Vito's face is tight and pensive. "As far as anyone else knows, Aiken's last words to me were only 'call Ed'. No one knows that he purposefully called me. I made it sound like he hit me in his call log, just as likely as he could've hit anyone else."

I get it. The fact that Aiken purposefully called Vito could put a target of suspicion on his back. "And you two weren't friends?"

"No."

I frown, trying to put the pieces together.

"He couldn't have meant for you to call me about the succession plan." I explain the triggered email response that Aiken had programmed to send me.

"So there's another reason he wanted us to connect."

I bite my lip, staring out the windshield into the black night. "Maybe he was worried I wouldn't come back."

That would've been a real worry for Aiken. The last time I had talked to him five years ago, he wanted me to come and run some bar with him—which now I know is Gilly's—and I basically told him to go fuck himself. That was when I said my only contact with him would be the annual I'm alive text. At the time, I felt Aiken was pushing and asking too much of me.

Yet, here I am, right where he wanted me… except without him by my side.

"Maybe he thought you'd be able to convince me somehow?" I suggest.

"Or that I could hunt you down to bring you back. Aiken is familiar with my skill set." Vito reminds me that he's a career criminal. "And that idea does have elements of appeal." He grins, lifting the heaviness that is pressing in on me.

"Bitch, please." I roll my eyes, and he bursts out laughing.

He shakes his head, looking a bit in wonder. "You make me laugh, Eden. And joke." He fists the steering wheel with one hand and shifts gears with his other as he takes off. "Two things I rarely do outside of my family."

I'm not sure how to take that. Or the revelation that Aiken called Vito…specifically and purposefully.

Was it because he felt he could trust Vito? Did Vito know something he didn't even realize he knew? Did I?

My head pounds with too many questions and not enough answers.

"How did he die?" I ask as we drive along the dark stretch by the water. Ohith had refused to give me any details when he'd discovered Aiken had been murdered. Vito stays silent. "Please. I need to know."

He sighs, staring ahead. "Multiple stab wounds, several deep slashes. The back of his head took a beating from being hit into the wall. The place was a mess—broken tables and chairs, bottles. From that and Aiken's busted knuckles, he fought hard and didn't go easy."

My hands shake—the chink in my armor—and I fist them. "The surveillance cameras were taken out?"

"Yes, as were the CCTVs in the area. The place was locked up when Raf and I got there. The CSI team concluded their report yesterday; any fiber and print evidence they collected was inconclusive—being it was a bar…"

That would be a shitshow in itself.

"The blood was all Aiken's, though," he continues and glances at me. "Nothing under his nails or in the broken skin on his knuckles. His tox screen was clean."

"Sounds like more than one attacker," I deduce. "They sealed up; wore gloves. They were professionals."

He shoots me a sharp side-eye look. Living with Ohith did have some perks, and I picked up some things over the years.

"That's my read, too," he finally says.

I look out the window as he turns down the street that leads to Aiken's place. People are still milling about as the nightlife is just starting to wind down.

"They wanted him to be found. Killing him at Gilly's means something."

Again, Vito studies me hard. "That's my read, too."

He pulls to the curb, and I look at Aiken's apartment. It's the whole second floor above a bodega in the Mission District. My eyes burn as I stare at my dead brother's residence.

The leather seat cracks as Vito shifts. Schooling my face back into my impassive mask, I turn to him.

"The Chamber is doing their investigation. Gus and I are committed to helping you in yours, Eden."

I narrow my eyes. "And I'm supposed to trust you? Just like that?"

"No. You're too smart for that." He taps my forehead, and the quick touch shoots electricity through me. "I can see you're street smart, as well as deductive and strategic."

"Why would you help me?" I ask, ignoring his compliment, which pleases me way more than it should.

"Aiken was a good man."

"Good men have died before. Maybe even by your hands."

It isn't an accusation, just a statement. He's unfazed.

"The people who have died at my hands were not good people, Eden."

"No one is wholly good or wholly bad. Including you. Me. My brother."

"The fact remains that I'll help you."

"Whether I want your help or not."

He nods.

I grit my teeth. "I stand corrected: you're a pushy fucking cunt."

He chuckles, but stops me when I move to get out. "Watch your back, Eden."

It isn't a threat… Concern laces his voice and covers his face.

"I've been watching my back for nine years, Vito. It's what I do." I close the door and walk away.