Page 29 of When Sinners Hate
He throws his arms up in the air, turning his back so he can cling onto the doorframe rather than use his aggression. “He’s been wasting my goddamn time. All this could be over and finished and–”
“No one’s saying anything concrete,” Knox cuts in. He comes to a stop, looking at me. “But there are whispers. A lot of them. Going for the wife or kids brings all-out war. You both know that as well as me. We’ve got a chance with the priest. Especially now that you’ve got Alexia’s family in tow. Logan might think reasonably.”
Reasonably. One thing most of our world knows is that nothing about that man is reasonable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because …” He turns away and walks over to the bags of money from earlier, lifting a few to take them out to his safe.
“Knox?”
“Because I can’t read you these days. You’re like a goddamn explosion waiting to detonate, Abel. Cold as ice one day and then ready to annihilate everything the next, and we all know how you feel about our reach. You want more. But we’ll lose if you go in like that and we’re not prepared.” He lifts another bag and starts walking.
“Get your ass back here. Now.”
He hovers and sighs, shifting the bags around on his back before looking back at me. “There’s no sense in it, Abel. None. You’re a wrecking ball about that city. Fuck knows why. We don’t need New York. Isn’t what we do have enough for you?” No. And everything I’m doing, I’m doing for this family. To keep us surviving and safe and untouchable. If I want to take on Logan Cane, I will. “See? You’re already thinking it. And that shit is nothing to do with Elias being dead or Reed. That’s just plain fucking greed. As usual.”
“You’re beginning to piss me off.”
“Yeah, but someone needs to say it and I’m not a kid anymore. Dante thinks with his fist or dick most of the time, and Shaw’s not even worth talking about.” He drops the bags to the floor and looks over at Dante, practically begging him for a fight he’ll lose. “It’s time we had this said. What is the plan now you’ve got Ortega’s backing? Swarm across the country until you’re knocking on Logan’s door with attitude and nothing else? Give him a reason to come get Mariana and have some fun? Yeah, let’s put her through that again, shall we?” He looks at Dante. “Because we were just fucking great at protecting her the last time, weren’t we?”
Dante moves sideways and passes me, probably as ready as I am to have a discussion about manners. “Motha fucker–”
“Leave him,” I snarl.
He stops about three feet away and waits, vibrating with resentment and hatred. It gives me the time I need to make my way in front of Knox and glare.
“Jesus. We’re not enough, Abel,” Knox shouts. “We’ll fucking lose! What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you just be okay with what we are? We just need the priest as a threat. And then we leave with Reed and deal with him.”
I’m not battling the same rage as Dante, not entirely. Mine’s based in animosity about who sits at the top of thisgoddamn tree. Truth or not, Knox doesn’t get any decisions about who does what or when. He delivers what I ask for, when I ask for it, and he should be doing both with the same sense of loyalty that every other fucker around me wears.
“For an intelligent guy, you're a dumb fuck sometimes.” My hands grab at his shirt, authority sending him straight back to a wall until he’s backed up with no way around me. “This is my goddamned family, Knox. My fucking decisions. You don’t get to make a choice about anything unless it’s what I’ve agreed to.” He tries keeping that stare fixed on mine but buckles as I keep glaring in response. “You remember what happens when you go out on your own?” He swallows and turns his head sideways, no doubt remembering the time I beat him senseless for screwing up a deal because he thought he knew better. “Yeah. Nothing’s changed. You hide shit from me one more time and I’ll make a point of reminding you how that felt.”
I keep staring, keep threatening, and slowly begin to lose my own cool under the thought of damage. Family or not, I don’t like being lied to. Add in standing up to me about shit that no one understands but me, and I’m back inside fighting for my goddamned life. Maybe if he’d had half his time taken from him inside that cell he’d understand why reach and power is everything to me.
Dante’s hand lands on my shoulder softly. “He gets it, Brother.”
I frown and keep gripping, nowhere near ready to let this little asshole get away with his attitude problem. The hand crawls down my chest and around it to start pulling. “Abel. I get it, too. Back off, now.” I do. Not because I want to, but because I’m being made to. That’s a pretty dangerous place for me to be in, as the look of panic on Knox’s face proves when he gets free space around him. “Knox. Go,” Dante says quietly, still with his arm holding me.
I watch him walking out, then spin on Shaw for something to glare at. He looks straight at the floor, nothing but platitudes all over his features. Yeah, he knows too. He’s been beaten for the same kind of crap.
“You cool?” Dante asks. No, I’m not cool. I’m a furnace that wants to vent somewhere. Anywhere. “Fucking asshole.” My brow arches and I aim my hostility at him instead. “Not you. Him. Little shit always did know us like the back of his hand.”
He stares and waits for me to say something, or maybe offers himself up for the beating he knows I want to give to someone. I’ve got nothing to say other than anger and still building fury. And he doesn't deserve what's going on inside me.
A drink slides across the counter top, the sound making me check out whatever the fuck it was. Shaw nods and holds up his own, attempting to stare me down or cool me down. I don’t know which one, but I take it and drink. The burn barely touches the sides and before I can snatch the bottle and sink some more, I spin for the door to get myself the hell out of here. Nothing good will come of me staying. Rage will build. Confusion will set in. Memories of self-loathing will come. And then, when I’ve forgotten I love this family and do everything to protect them, I’ll blow. Knox is right about that part of his tirade. I am an explosion waiting to detonate. I have been since I learnt what it’s like to be cornered and without control.
I'm never being that again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEXIA
The Challenger is still in the driveway.
I’d assumed that Abel would come and check on me – check that I came back like the dutiful wife I’m meant to be. Of course, he probably tracks the car.
Or worse, my phone.
All night I waited for him to come – demand his next service, perhaps, but he didn’t show. Maybe our little heart-to-heart touched a nerve. Although, I suspect family business was what kept him away, and I’m yet to be convinced Abel Cortez has a heart. Even the display of morality towards the young woman yesterday didn’t prove that for me, especially given his treatment of the other woman. I suppose there’s no doubt that word will have reached him that I did, indeed, return home last night. So the first sign of trust has been honoured. Something I must capitalise on now when he gives me a chance.