Page 27 of Forbidden Eyes
“No, Quinn took the war to New York after all this. Held it in Vico’s own backyard because he refused to play ball anywhere else. You know that much, surely?”
She shifts in her seat to look at me rather than the view.
“But my father’s a businessman.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he be involved in anything like that? War? You’re talking like he was physically involved in some sort of crime. I thought they were just friends because of my mom being a Cane by birth.”
Fuck.
I pull the car to a stop and look over at her, unsure how much more I should say. She’s right. She has been kept in a cage all her life, more so than I thought. By the sound of it, I shouldn’t have said any of that. She quirks her brow at me, interest all over her features. “Why, Carter? I know he’s no angel, but he works with politicians every day of his life. Everything you’ve said makes him sound like some sort of gangster.”
"He was, Fia. A feared one at that.”
Still is.
Regardless of the current climate of peace.
Her eyes widen at my statement, and my gaze drops away from her to stare out at the docks again. That’s all I’m going to say. It’s not my place to say anything else. She can go home, ask the questions herself and needle the information from her father however she sees fit. How the hell she had no suspicion about his past is beyond me, but I’d be fucking furious if I didn’t know everything I do about Cane. That information is my past. It’s who I am. What they’ve turned me into, anyway.
I frown for a second and think of my father, the man who was killed by Quinn’s hand. I don’t blame Quinn for it, haven’t done for years. It’s what life was back then, but having her beside me—so innocent of who she is and where she comes from—seems to bring the memories back. At least I know it all, know why and where and who. She knows nothing about who her family really are. Why they are as they are.
My phone rings, breaking the silence.
“Wade,” I answer.
The two-minute conversation has me turning the car around again and pulling straight off the docks to head back over to where I was earlier. A problem. Isn’t there always a fucking problem when it comes to this part of business? The fact that it’s Vico’s problem should have me picking up the phone to Quinn and making him deal with it. I work for Cane, not Vico, and this is a little close to the bone for my liking now I’m sitting here next to the man’s daughter.
She keeps asking questions the entire drive back towards the hotel I'm dropping her back at. Ones that make me wonder how much she should know.
Who is he, Carter? Why would you say those sorts of things if you’re not going to give me answers?
My fingers tighten on the wheel, part of me wanting to show her exactly who her father is. She should know. Anyone with a father like him should understand exactly why she’s been treated the way she has, why her family is so scared for her safety.
“All my life I’ve been kept inside and told to behave appropriately. I’ve never been allowed to party or make friends. Logan's allowed a life. Why not me?” She laughs bitterly, eyes staring out into the city. “You know why I’m so smart? It helps that I am naturally clever, but it’s because I’ve applied myself. I’ve studied really hard because there’s nothing but study. No life. No chance to enjoy the wealth they clearly enjoy. I can’t even spend my allowance each month. So, to fill the void, I found something that absorbed all of my time. Turns out, I like being absorbed by my work. It’s fascinating and I’m good at what I do.”
“Chemistry.”
“Yes. But that’s not enough. It won’t give me the answers I need.”
“They’re just trying to protect you, Fia.”
“I don’t want fucking protection,” she snaps. “I’m an adult. I deserve to know who Benjamin Vico is, what my surname means, and why people look at my father the way they do.”
My damned hands swing the wheel away from the hotel before I reach it, and I head in the direction of the drop point instead. She wants to see something, she can. Who am I to block her from that? I might be arguing with myself the whole way, but years of being in the middle of Cane has taught me an important lesson in life: know everything.
Everything.
There’s not one piece of information I don’t know about Cane. I asked and they answered honestly. No matter my age. Every gory detail. Everything they did to get where they are today. They opened the book and let me in, trusted me.
She should have that damn information, too.
The traffic quietens as I start rolling into the back roads, steering through to the old buildings off North St. and Jefferson.
“Everything you see here stays between you and me, alright?”
“What?”