Page 145 of The Finish Line
Palo and Julien.
Are David and Oz dead? Did they even make it to the airport?
I move to stand next to Cecelia to get a clear view of the three of them and meet Palo’s steady gaze; he gives me absolutely nothing. I can only conclude he’s again switched allegiances. If I had any hope at all, it was that I still had his. Then again, I haven’t heard a fucking word from him in weeks, which is indicative enough of where we stand.
The problem with buying men is that they can be bought.
They’ve allowed Cecelia to keep her fucking gun because they find it laughable. I study Cecelia, and her expression remains stoic as her eyes trail over me with relief and mine do the same.
She’s breathing. She’s unharmed and armed. It’s more than I could have asked for, and yet we’re still fucked.
Too soon. It’s too soon for us to be over. We didn’t have enough time. We’ve been robbed of it from the start. The reality of that rakes at my chest as I begin to mourn the loss of us and mouth, “I’m sorry.”
She subtly shakes her head as I turn to face off with Antoine.
Where the fuck are my birds?
This can’t happen again. This can’t fucking happen again.
I glare at Antoine, who’s impeccably dressed, his frame frailer than the last time I saw him due to his age. Greg joins his side, a towel full of blood in one hand as he retrieves a vial from his pocket with the other and thumbs the cap off.
Coke.
Which explains a lot. The man can’t fight for shit, but the drug made him a believer. I grin at the fact that I’ve ruined his tool for consumption, and he glares at me as he tosses it to the back of his throat.
“I told you,” Antoine says, giving Greg a side-eye, “that you were running a fool’s errand.”
“He’s fucking here, isn’t he?” Greg snaps, his eyes drifting between me and Cecelia, whose gaze is zeroed in on him.
“Jerry’s estranged stepson,” Cecelia clarifies for me, loud enough for the room to hear. “He’s here for me because I cost him his inheritance. Oops.”
I glance over at her, fury coiling through me; she caught it, and I missed it due to jealousy. But by putting a bullet in Roman’s old business partner before I got here, I set off this chain of events and helped put this into motion. In my haste to get back to her, I left a loose end.
One too many, it seems.
Greg chimes in. “I suppose I should thank you for putting a bullet in the fat fucking pig’s head,” he says to me before turning his eyes on Cecelia. “Or should I thank you now that my mother lives in a mental hospital? And the cherry on top? I’m now power of attorney over a bankrupt empire.” He bites his lip, his eyes on Cecelia, his intent clear. “We could have had some fun, you and me, and we were going to until your fucking thug boyfriend showed up and told me your little love story. Thankfully for me, stepdaddy dearest wasn’t at all concerned about his trail. Once I found his contacts, and Antoine and I had a little chat... it made it a lot easier to put the pieces together.” He takes a menacing step forward, and so does Cecelia, hand steady as she keeps her gun trained on him.
Greg scoffs. “You going to shoot me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Cecelia replies without hesitation.
“And then what?” Greg looks around the room, knowing he’s got us.
Cecelia shrugs, her intent clear as she inches forward, her hand steady.
There are guns aimed at us from every adjoining room, except her bedroom, which is where it appears she came out, gun blazing.
One fucking day, we needed one fucking day for our protection to kick in.
Think, Tobias.
“Cecelia,” I warn, and she doesn’t so much as glance my way.
With the lift of Antoine’s hand, Greg steps back, but Cecelia remains where she is, and I join her.
“Common enemies, Tobias, you advised me on that,” Antoine jeers. “Between you both, I would say you’re gathering quite the list... well, that is until you started ticking them off before you got here—”
Cecelia cuts him off. “Some random asshole with a pretty face shows up to my café out of nowhere four days in a row and takes an interest specifically in me? It was amateur.” She clicks her tongue at Greg. “I was onto you day two, and certain by day four,” she says, projecting her voice to me, “gotta love Ryan.”