Page 105 of Forbidden Eyes

“What the hell has he been playing at down there?” I mutter.

“He’s been playing at making us stronger than we are.”

Quinn.

We all look back at the door to find him standing there, shoulder resting on the frame. He smiles and pulls in a long breath, shaking his head as he looks over at Nate. “I honestly thought you’d catch me siphoning money quicker than this, brother. You’re getting slow. Seems like my son is more like me than I thought.” He looks at Logan, pride in his eyes, and then flicks his gaze to me. “And you shouldn’t trust anyone. Me included. Why weren't you looking into me before three days ago? The files were easy enough for you to get into when I created them two years ago. Remember that going forward.”

What the fuck?

“The time is still right, though,” he says, pushing off the frame. “Meeting in my office, ten minutes. Carter, eat. You look pale.”

He walks away from us after that, limping, and leaves us wondering what the hell he’s talking about. Time’s right for what? All three sets of eyes in the room look at each other, trying to gage what the others might know. Both Logan and I shrug, no clue what the meeting is about, and then Nate picks up his folder and storms out of the room, probably with one intent in mind: arguing with his brother.

“Well, shit. I’m not heading into that battle,” Logan says, making himself comfortable in the chair by the window. “He did hide it well, though. Took me a while to see it in the coding.”

It's not that information Quinn's talking about. Not with me anyway. He's talking about the personal ones I've been looking at, the ones involving things no one should be looking at. Cartels. Violence. A life everyone thought was behind them. Nate must know something, though. Even if I didn't. Surely.

“Why were you looking for something that wasn’t there, Logan?”

“He’s pops. There’s always something hidden somewhere. Guess I think more like him than you do.” The thought pisses me off instantly because it isn’t true, but the fact is my head’s been so messed up with Fia these last few weeks that I’ve concentrated less on business and more on her. “What do you have in here to eat?” Logan asks.

I cross to the fridge and pull out some drinks and food, dumping it on the small coffee table between the chairs and sitting with him to stare out the window. Fia Vico. She’s always in there, screwing around with my thoughts. Whimpers, moans. Christ, even the sound of her talking and laughing seems to keep rattling around my brain, forcing me to acknowledge a love I thought I’d never feel for anyone. And now what? After all this, she doesn’t want me?

“What do you think Pops wants?” I bring my blank gaze back to Logan, part of me not wanting to even find out. I should be back at home, hounding her until she damn well talks to me.

Or slaps me again. Or fucks me.

That’d be nice.

“Don’t know. Maybe he wants to talk about New York and how we deal with that now.” I open a bottle of water and guzzle some down, then pull at my tie until it’s gone from my neck so I can rub at my scar. Damn thing’s tighter than hell. “We had a lot linked up with Vico. We’ll need to consolidate and minimise the losses. Vico isn’t going to let business continue as was.” Especially given all the reading material I've been looking through lately.

“Because of you and your dick," he says. What the fuck?

My mouth opens to shut his down, but his grin as he bites into a sandwich makes me chuckle rather than explode at him. It’s true. All this has been because of me and my dick. Now here we are, a fucking mess of objectives and problems, and I’m not even sure if Fia and I are something anyway.

I look out the window again and sigh, glugging down some more water. “She’s alright, you know,” he says, wiping his hands. “Stuck up, but alright. Good catch for an asshole like you.” I snort and look back at him, wondering what’s changed his attitude this last week or so. Maybe we’ve all changed in some way because of her. “You can talk if you want, Carter. I’m here if you need to… you know, talk.” My eyes narrow at that, a slight curve of my mouth conveying disbelief. We’ve never been like that. I’ve never wanted to be either. He might be a Cane, but to me he’s still a kid. Maybe he’s not, though. Not now he’s held a gun and showed himself as worthy.

“Come on, we’ve got a meeting to get to,” I say, standing. “All this shit isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Thanks, Logan. You’re welcome, Carter,” he chortles out, walking by me towards the door. “Great brotherly chat.”

Brothers. That’s new.

I watch him go, unsure how I feel about that and still too messed up with Fia in my head to give it the time it probably deserves. He is like one in a way, always has been even if I haven’t admitted it. He took his first steps with me in the room, got his dick in something for the first time after I took him out. I run my hands through my hair, fussing it to clear my mind of thoughts that have nothing to do with business. Later.

I’ll deal with it all later.

I grab at the protein bar and head out after him, striding down the hall to Quinn’s office. They’re all in there chatting when I turn into the room, three sets of documents out on the table behind them.

“Ah, good. Grab a pen,” Quinn says to me.

I look at him and reach into my pocket, no thought for why, as I watch Nate pull one out, too. “Get over here and sign this.”

Alright.

I walk over, protein bar still in my mouth, and lean over the document to flip the pages to signatory lines and get on with it. Nate comes up beside me, his own pen starting to scrawl lines. It's like a fucking production line. I sign, he signs. Over and over.

“Did you not hear my comment in your office?” Quinn says.