CHAPTER 22
Cecily Keegan stood at the top of the steps leading into the design academy, shuffling some papers. Framed between two enormous Grecian columns, she looked up, smiling like she was making sure to spread enough sunshine before heading down.
A sight for sore eyes was putting it mildly. Shane, from his vantage point in the car, parked illegally next to a hot dog vendor he’d just massively tipped, thought it was the best city view he’d ever seen.
All he could think was, How did this happen?
He’d never harbored false expectations about his future.
First, he’d been a punk on a path that was supposed to end in jail. Rothgar pulled him out of that, and then he’d had the Hudson Kings, a family of brothers who made him think about more than just his own survival.
Maybe having an adopted family like that wasn’t everything a man could ever want in life, but it was solid. And there were plenty of women around who didn’t care that his heart was a block of ice, as long as his dick gave it to them hot.
And then one day, that man takes a drive. It starts the same way it always starts: key in the ignition, foot on the gas. But this time a woman named Cecily ends up in his car, and when the door closes behind her, Shane’s entire life changes.
How did this happen? How did he go from nothing to feeling like all this beauty was only the beginning?
You’re falling in love with her. Or maybe he already was. Since he’d never felt anything like this, he had no fucking idea where he was. But he’d take it. Life handed around enough shit. He was smart enough to know that unless you had a really good reason, you take it when the good stuff finally comes around.
A parade of people went up and down the building steps as he watched, some of them sitting down on the broad stairs with a cup of coffee, some standing in groups holding backpacks and portfolios.
Shane’s practiced eye moved to a man heading for the stairs who didn’t seem to fit the mold of either arty student or dressed-down faculty: expensive suit, all-American haircut, watch flashing too much in the sunlight. The guy put a tray holding two iced teas down on the ground and stepped to the side of the stairs to wait in the shade.
Definitely James. Adjusting a gun in the back of his waistband.
Shane pulled the keys from the ignition, barked at the hot dog vendor to watch his car, and fucking hightailed it to the side stairs on the far side, where James couldn’t see him coming.
Cecily started down the steps. James picked up the tray of iced tea and called out to her.
Shane watched, his heart pounding, trying to figure out his move. If he revealed himself as one of the Hudson Kings, he’d know the team was onto him for what he really was. If he said nothing and just pulled a gun, it would probably imply the same thing.
Cecily stood frozen, staring at James, clutching her papers.
James was talking, holding out the iced tea, taking small steps backward; Shane figured the game was to lead her back into the shadows.
Cecily followed, slowly, uncertain.
Watching it happen made Shane want to be sick. What the fuck are you doing, sweetling? Then Shane remembered Rothgar had told her not to let James think she was 100 percent sold on getting clear of him. Fuck!
James’s hand crept back toward his gun; Cecily looked back over her shoulder as she took another hesitant step. “I don’t think there’s really anything left to say, do you?” she asked James. “My brother doesn’t want me to see you anymore.”
That’s the answer right there. Shane sprinted forward, and intercepted James before he could raise his gun, literally lifting James by the scruff of his neck. Tea splattered everywhere. Shane bodily yanked James into the darkest shadows behind the rows of columns, scraping the tips of his expensive wing tips across the concrete.
“Hi, James,” Shane said into his ear as he pressed his face against the cement. “I’m feeling . . . oh, let’s just, say, very unhappy.”
“Who the fuck are you?” James managed to say. He wasn’t a small guy, but Shane had the jump on him, and his arms were trapped beneath Shane’s.
Shane squeezed tighter.
James grunted, struggling for air.
Shane jacked his right arm, about to punch James in the gut, a move that would have merely been an amuse-bouche to the complete process of showing the fucker exactly what Shane thought about his treatment of Cecily.
“She’s not your girlfriend anymore, not after all the shit you said to her. Sure as hell not after you hit her,” Shane clarified. “She’s nobody to you anymore. I’m going to make this very clear. You don’t ever bother her again. You don’t call Cecily. You don’t text, e-mail, walk, run, drive, nothing. She doesn’t see your face. Ever. Again. Because if I find out that you’ve tried to contact her again, I’m going to damage you in a way that you will never come back from. I’m not even going to describe what happens if you actually try and touch her. She told me you were good with numbers; does what I’m saying compute?”
Shane loosened his hold but didn’t let him turn, so the guy never saw his face; James fell to his knees, wheezing for air.
Shane jammed the toe of his shitkicker into the side of James’s stomach and pressed. “Man, I would sorely love to beat the crap out of you right now, but”—he gestured to the sunny area out front where a young family was adjusting a baby in a baby carrier—“what I have to give you I just don’t think this is the place. Now, you catch your breath, and this time I want an answer so’s I know we have an understanding. Does what I’m saying compute?”
James tried to look up, one hand at his throat, one hand at his stomach. Shane wouldn’t let him turn his head. The fucker nodded and whispered yes.
Shane looked around for Cecily. She’d turned white. His stomach dropped. She’d seen only a fraction of what he was capable of, and she looked horrified. Can’t change this part, Shane thought. This is what I do, who I am. The Hudson Kings.
With one hand keeping James’s face pressed to the ground, Shane used the other to grab his keys from his pocket and toss them at Cecily’s feet. Her eyes widened, her entire expression a question, a shock. She looked down the steps toward the street, undoubtedly saw his car there, driver’s side door still open.
Yeah, I want you to drive my car, sweetling. He signaled to her using his fingers. Drive away. James struggled in his grasp, and for a minute Shane thought she wasn’t going to get it, but then he saw the light go on.
She grabbed his keys and ran down the steps, not sparing a glance for James cowering on the ground.
The minute Cecily was out of sight, Shane slammed James’s face into the ground. The blood spatter from the guy’s nose was a nasty reminder of just how much more he’d like to do to him—and just how stupid that would be in the big picture. Keep your eye on the big picture. Pretend you don’t see the gun. He couldn’t let on that he knew that James was something more than a girlfriend-beating shitbag banker, and those kinds of men didn’t generally carry loose weapons around New York City.
“You keep your face down, eating shit for a ten count, got that? I go, then you go, and we don’t see each other again. You don’t see Cecily again. Clear?”
“Clear,” muttered James.
“One,” Shane said, starting the count, then he disappeared himself into the shadows and ran. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. His heart pounded, his head clouding with paranoia and fear. It was too much, what she saw me do. She’s gonna hand me the keys and get out and walk away.
“I just kept driving,” Cecily said, her voice nervous and thin. “I’m double-parked outside a place called Gray’s Papaya. Seventy-second and . . . um . . .”
Shane started laughing. “The hot dog joint on Seventy-second and Broadway.”
Cecily actually giggled. “Yes. I was looking for a landmark, but nothing obvious. Guess I figured cops like doughnut shops, mercenaries prefer hot dog joints?”
“I’m already on the way,” Shane said. “Hold tight.”
“Don’t hang up!” she blurted.
Shane softened. “I’m right here,” he said, running past the old-school cobblers and dry cleaners tucked in next to the newer chain stores that dotted the Upper West Side. “Not going anywhere.” His throat was on fire from running, but he booked it until he could see the distinctive yellow Gray’s Papaya sign and the slogan NO GIMMICKS! NO BULL!
Truth, that.
And then there was the car, double-parked outside, Cecily craning her neck out the window. She saw him, flipped open the driver’s side door, and moved herself to the passenger seat.
He jumped in, fire in his lungs.
She held out her hand, the keys in her palm; she had to have no idea what a lifeline that was. He took the keys and she leaned over. Holding trembling fingers to his jaw, she kissed him.
Jaysus. She gets it. She gets me. “You okay?” he asked.
“Not even a little bit,” she confessed. “What about you?”
He knew she meant physically; she couldn’t know he was ripped up inside in a way that didn’t draw blood but hurt all the same. I thought he was going to take you. He shook his head.
“That was—”
“Just about killed me not to tell him I’m your man, but I didn’t want him to connect any dots. We need him to still think Dex is only on him because he’s a candidate for Worst Boyfriend of the Year. If he realizes other Hudson Kings are in on his business, he’ll suspect we know who he really is.”
Cecily’s eyes widened.
“Couldn’t out the mission, couldn’t let him . . .” Shit, he couldn’t say what he thought James might be capable of—that he worried James might actually kidnap and try to get Hudson Kings intel out of her. It was just too much to put on her. “I couldn’t let him be around you. Tell me next time if you’re leaving the Armory,” Shane added, trying not to let on how seriously torqued he was over this. “You know, just until this thing settles down. He drop any hints in voice mail or e-mail that he knows you’re with us?”
“No,” Cecily said. She looked bewildered, glancing into the rearview mirror, then the side mirror. “I used to talk about taking classes here, though. If his side has what your side has, they could hack into the registration computers and see the classes I’m trying out.”
“Listen to you,” Shane said, shaking his head.
“I know,” Cecily said. She bit her lip and looked out the window.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asked.
“I’m trying to figure out when it’s going to be over,” she said quietly. “It’s not over until James thinks I’m not useful anymore. But how do I know when that will be? I’m more useful to him now than I ever was.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Shane said, praying it was true.
Cecily’s hands were clasped together so tightly he could see white at her knuckles. “The only time I feel safe is when I’m standing next to you.”
Shane loosened her hands and took one in his. “I’ll be standing next to you a lot. You’re not moving out of the Armory right now. Listen, I know you hate being told what to do. I know you want that normal life out here. So you do what you want to do, when you want to do it . . . and I do what I want to do to make sure you’re safe doing it. I decide what that means, and you gotta fill me in on stuff like this. And you gotta stick with the Armory for a little longer.”
“Okay,” she said, not giving him a lick of sass, which confirmed just how much James’s visit spooked her. “I won’t move out of the Armory right now. But Rothgar—”
“He was the one who gave me the heads-up you were going into town.”
“Oh.” Cecily took a moment to absorb that piece of information. “Well, he did say he was planning to keep me in his sights.” She bit her lip, smiling, and added, “All the same, I think he’d just as soon I go ahead and move in with Ally.”
Shane went silent for a minute and then said, “Not surprised. He’s used to extending the invitation, not to mention that having a civilian around is always added security risk. You being in the Armory is unusual.”
Cecily frowned. “Now I really feel like I’m staying in a house with a host who doesn’t want me.”
“It’s not like that. You are a liability, but that just means that there are people inside the Hudson Kings who . . . care about you. Understand?”
Cecily didn’t answer.
“Think I told you I went through a time so dark I didn’t mind if I died. Every day I’d wake up and try to figure out what the point was of getting dressed, and if I got dressed, all I had to think about was what nasty shit I was gonna get hired to pull off. And then Rothgar asked me to be part of the team he was building, a fully formed mercenary team. Said he had something to offer me I hadn’t ever really thought about.”
Shane squeezed her hand. “Loyalty. A sense of family. A sense of honor. You want to be part of it, live on the inside, you play Rothgar’s game with Rothgar’s rules. Someone like you wants to live on the outside, it’s probably easier for him to keep things smooth in the Armory, but you’ve still got family to come home to, and he’s still going to be looking out for you. Liability’s maybe not the right word. What I mean is you’ve become someone who matters. To Dex. To Rothgar.” Shane took a deep breath and finished with, “To me.”
“My man,” she said softly.
“Damn straight,” Shane said.
He kissed her, watching the sides of her mouth curl up and wondering if her toes did the same. “And Cecily?”
“Yeah, Shane?”
“You drive a mean getaway car.”
Cecily gave him a full-on grin. “I know.”