Chapter Twenty-Four

The night was too cold for a walk through the frozen grounds. November hadn’t graced them with snow yet, but his dress shoes were not made to properly shelter James’s feet from the fine layer of frost crunching beneath its soles. Part of him wondered who came up with the idea of making tuxedos so uselessly thin in fabric. Maybe they expected everyone to be dancing and having too much fun to be freezing their balls off. No one would suspect a kidnapping or a hike through miles of frozen tundra.

“Just how big is this garden?” he muttered to the man trudging along next to him.

“Are you really anxious to get to the end?” De Marco mumbled.

“Depends if there’s somewhere warm on the other side.”

De Marco shot him a dry glower.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Bishop called from ahead. “We’re nearly there.”

“What exactly is the plan, Bishop?” James glared into the other man’s back. “If you wanted to kill us, you could have already.”

“I was going to,” the man admitted. “That had been the plan, but you see, I promised you both to the person who made all this possible and I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Your mole,” James hedged. “And who is this mystery man? Anyone I know?”

Bishop chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“And what’s in this for you, Lionel?” De Marco chimed in. “What is your mole promising you in return for my capture? Your old position? More money? An island? You should have just come to me. I could have doubled that offer.”

“That seems to be your solution to everything, Gio. More money. But you took something from me I can’t get back.”

“Your dignity?” De Marco challenged. “I wasn’t aware you had any.”

James hissed through his teeth. “Don’t antagonize the psychopath with the guns!”

Bishop stopped and whirled to face them, his cheeks scarlet from the cold and anger. “I am not a psychopath, Mr. Crow. I’m a business man. Giovanni and I had a business arrangement that he betrayed. I don’t like being betrayed.”

“Oh for Christ sakes,” De Marco grumbled. “That was over a decade ago. How long can a single man hold a grudge?”

“That’s a good question.” Ice blue eyes flicked to James. “Would you care to answer, Captain? Between the three of us, you’ve waited for this moment the longest.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Did he kidnap, rape, and murder your sister, too? I didn’t realize we had so much in common. Let me go and we can start a fan club.”

Bishop laughed. The stiff blades of grass crunched beneath his boots as he claimed a step forward.

James saw the fist, but made no effort to stop it when it collided with the side of his jaw. The cold numbed most of the blow, but he tasted blood.

“Always such a smart ass.”

He spat out the blood in his mouth and straightened. “Why is everyone hitting me tonight? I’m beginning to take it personally.”

Bishop bared his teeth, but turned his attention to De Marco. “I lost my wife because of you, and my daughter. You didn’t just ruin my career, you took everything.”

“You got greedy,” De Marco bit out. “You got in over your head and you got sloppy. You became a liability. You left me no choice but to cut you out.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” Bishop cried. “You just left me there holding the bags and no way to explain what happened.”

“You mean with no way for you to sell me out,” said De Marco. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. I knew the minute you were dropped into the pot, you’d sing.”

“You framed me.”

“I made you,” De Marco growled. “I created you. Did you honestly think I couldn’t break you just as easily? I lost a lot of good men during that shipment raid. Men you got killed because of your own selfish agenda. What did you expect?”

“Loyalty!” Bishop snarled. “I slaved for you for years, bringing you the biggest shipments, making way for your products to cross whole countries, bending backwards to ensure your name was always in the clear with all agencies. I did that. I protected you. But when I needed you, you left me to rot.”

De Marco glanced at the men surrounding them, practically bleeding into the dark. “Looks to me like you’re doing just fine.”

Bishop scoffed. “After getting framed for being a traitor, after disgracing my family and losing everything, what was there left but the only thing I knew how to do? I built my own retrieval company—”

“You mean a mercenary company,” De Marco corrected. “Is that why you’re calling yourself Bishop? Why not King?”

There was no missing the seductive sway of arrogance in Bishop’s cool gaze.

“Because even the king listens to the bishop.”

De Marco burst out laughing.

As decisions went, it probably wasn’t the wisest, James mused, wisely smothering his own snort behind the hand he rubbed over his jaw.

“Oh, Lionel.” De Marco straightened. “Your ego always was too big for your head. But please,” he sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “Continue. You built this ... team.”

If the sharp edges of Bishop’s jaw could kill, they would all be dead. It jutted out from beneath his skin, taut razor blades of his barely restrained urges to simply kill them both.

“These men are like me, innocent and trying to make a living after the country that swore to protect them, betrayed them. You should see my contact list, Giovanni. I have friends in places that would amaze you.”

De Marco never batted an eye. “You were never betrayed, Lionel. If you’d stuck to the plan, you would never have gotten caught. You fucked yourself. And these thugs you call innocent men, do they know you’d sell your own mother for a burrito?”

The gun glinted in the night, a metal threat inches from De Marco’s forehead.

“I think I’m done talking. I think I want to kill you myself, which is a shame, because if you knew who sold you out...” He laughed joyously. “Let’s just say there is no such thing as loyalty amongst thieves.”

“Hey, look, let’s just calm down.” James took a step forward. “Bishop, I have intel on a shipment that I think—”

The gun swung like the head on a radiator and pinned James.

“Are you honestly defending him right now, Crow? This man who brutalized your baby sister, who killed your father, who murdered your mother, this man? You want me to spare him?”

James shook his head. “I have no love for the guy, but—”

“But your wife loves her daddy, right? Need to stay in good graces with her. Wives are bitches when they get pissed off.”

“This isn’t about Cora,” James lied. “This is about planning and order. You have a plan, right? Well, nothing ever goes right when you deter from that plan, so you need to maintain order.”

He had no idea what he was talking about, but he figured if he stalled long enough, someone in that damn house might think of something.

“You’re rationalizing with the wrong man, Crow,” De Marco muttered. “Deterring from the plan is exactly the reason he’s in this mess.”

The gun returned to De Marco.

“The kid’s right,” Bishop decided, lowering the weapon. “It’s all about the plan.”

A sharp pop echoed through the night. Something whistled. James had just enough sense to grab De Marco and shove him to the ground when one of Bishop’s men’s head exploded a few feet away.

Another followed quickly after.

More brain matter sprayed into the frigid air, twining with steam from hot blood hitting the ground. Guns were lifted, but no one knew where to aim, or where the bullets were coming from. And there was nowhere to seek cover.

Sloppy, James thought.

“There’s my girl,” De Marco muttered.

In seconds, every last member of Bishop’s crew lay in riddled chunks across the lawn. The only one remaining was Bishop himself, standing stunned and horrified amongst the slaughter.

James scrambled to a nearby AK47 and hoisted it up. He spun with it already leveled with Bishop’s head.

“Drop it!” he snapped, motioning to the gun.

Bishop hesitated, a flicker before he let the steel hit the ground at his feet.

“Should have stuck to the plan,” James panted. “Come on. Let’s take this somewhere warmer.”

“Just so there’s no confusion,” De Marco rose and dusted grass and frost from his trousers. “That was my daughter and wife who took your men down and probably have you in their crosshairs right now. If I were you, I wouldn’t make any stupid decisions. Cora’s an amazing shot. It’s almost a talent of hers. I should know, I taught her.”

They marched Bishop back across the frozen fields towards the tempting glow of the manor. James kept a firm grip on the trigger the whole way up the backstairs to the terrace. But the moment they stepped over the broken frame, De Marco broke away and hurried to check on his family, leaving James lead Bishop to a chair and force him into it.

“What the hell happened?” Nicholas sprinted over to him. “I went to make the call and came back to ... this!”

“Long story.” James shoved the AK47 into his hands. “Keep him there. I need to check on—”

There was no need to go anywhere when the woman in question stalked into the room, a vision with her hair down around her shoulders, a gun at her side, and murder in her eyes. The slit in her dress flapped wide around toned legs with every dominating stride as she closed the distance with a single-minded focus.

She stopped when she was right in front of Bishop.

“Bishop?”

He squinted up at her. “Ms. Harris, what a pleasure—”

Without batting an eye, she blew out his kneecap. The acoustics in the ballroom picked up the bang with a severity that made everyone jump. But it was nothing compared to Bishop’s howl. It pierced all other sounds, a shriek more animal than man.

“That’s for having me kidnapped.” She shot out his other kneecap. Bishop wailed, the pure agony sent chills down James’s spine. “That’s for shooting my family.” The gun swung to the middle of his legs. “I’m tempted to go for thirds for ruining my dress!”

James quickly grabbed her before she could follow through.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He kissed her temple. “Okay?”

She tore out of his arms and rounded on Bishop, gun waving. “And it’s Crow, you son of a bitch!”

He caught her a second time and crushed her into his chest. “You got him, baby. You got him. Now, stop moving so I can make sure you’re okay.”

She slumped against him, all the fight leaving her with a sigh. The gun clattered to the floor at her feet, leaving her hands free to lift and close around his middle.

“That was some damn nice shooting,” he murmured into the top of her head. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Eighteen years of training,” she breathed into his collarbone. “And I wasn’t going to let them take you.”

“Lionel.” Elise joined the group with De Marco and Deidra on either side of her. “I see you’ve met our daughter.”

Bishop wheezed through the pain of having both knees shattered. Blood spewed from between trembling fingers. He needed a doctor and quickly if he was to be saved from bleeding out.

“It’s unfortunate we met again under these circumstances,” Elise continued. “I was quite fond of you once, so this is a great disappointment.” She stepped around the puddle of blood to where Cora had dropped the gun and lifted it. She checked the magazine as effortlessly and fluidly as she would have her nails. “I have asked my husband for the honors. I hope you don’t mind. He refused at first, but I promised him something even better later. Plus, he’s forever indulging me. It’s what a good husband does to maintain balance and peace in a relationship.”

“Eat shit, you stuck up—”

The crack of Nicholas’s fist slamming into the man’s snarling, drooling mouth silenced whatever was to follow.

“My apologies,” he said to Elise. “Bad mouthing a lady’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine.”

“A nice right hook and manners.” Deidra smirked. “Careful, cowboy. I might get you a full hour.”

Dark patches appeared high on the Romanian’s cheeks, accenting the grin he was failing to conceal. His massive weight shifted from foot to foot with the refolding of his arms.

Cora leaned into James, her voice low. “What did I miss?”

James only shook his head, not entirely sure he wanted a deeper analysis of whatever was going on between those two.

“Lionel.” Elise turned everyone’s attention back to the tied man half slumped in the chair. She smiled kindly at him. “You’ve caused a lot of damaged to my family, Lionel. You took my daughter. You ruined her evening. You took my husband. My son in law. You shot my family. You have made such a mess.” She waved at the blood staining her floors. “That is just...” She broke off with an exasperated huff. “It’s really unacceptable.” She aimed at his torso. “I’ve counted seven things that really upset me. I think seven bullets should appease my grievances.”

James lay on Cora’s bed, arms folded beneath his head as he watched the glow from the lamp glitter off the stuccoes popcorning the ceiling. The dull fingers of a migraine pressed against the nerve endings of his brain, making him acutely aware of how long it had been since he’d been the victim of one. But being held hostage and nearly killed would have probably stressed a lot of people out.

Around him, the walls breathed with the company the manor housed. Elise had insisted upon it. All the injured people from the party were patched up — those who could be — or put aside for a proper burial. The whole matter had been very methodical and precise, as if it were the sort of thing she handled daily. Arrangements were made for transportation back to hotel rooms or the airports. Windows were replaced despite the late hour, floors were cleaned, Bishop and his men were disposed of.

It was as if none of it had ever happened.

All James wanted was sleep. Exhaustion had plagued him for hours, but he’d pushed on, determined not to show weakness. Every part of him missed his ship, missed the gentle sway of the ocean, and the metallic tang of his room. He hadn’t set foot on his baby in a month, the longest in history and the absence was beginning to crush his soul.

But there were still matters on land that required his attention, matters that he’d been avoiding, partially hoping he would never have to face.

Bishop was dead.

His only reason for keeping his promise to Cora was gone.

There was nothing left to stop him, no reason not to seek his vengeance.

The bathroom door opened and Cora emerged, damp and pink from her shower, a mere towel concealing her.

Without a word, James pushed up on the pillows and motioned her to him.

She dropped the towel without being told and climbed onto the bed. She let him guide her thighs apart and over his in a straddle. Her bottom rested on his thighs.

But he didn’t touch her. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself to.

In the span of a single night, everything had changed.

All the lines he’d drawn were blurred.

All the promises they’d made were shattered.

There was nothing left anymore, except two choices—

Keep her.

Stay with her.

Be her husband and the father of her children.

Live the life she promised him.

Be happy and forget everything.

Or—

Kill her father.

Leave.

Never look back.

“What are you thinking?”

That I love you, he thought miserably.

Instead, he slipped his hand beneath her damp curls and pulled her to him. He captured her lips. He kissed her until she went lax in his arms, until her pants became moans and her fingernails bit into his shoulders. He kept kissing her even when he twisted them over, pinning her to the mattress and climbing over her.

She gasped for air and peered up at him from a face flushed with passion.

“I will never forget the way you looked tonight.” He smoothed a hand through her hair, pushing the strands back from her face. “Watching you walk into the room in that dress will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“Good.” Cool fingertips skimmed his cheeks. “I don’t want you to ever forget me.”

James snorted. “Sweetheart, that’s very unlikely.”

She licked her lips, pulling his gaze to their soft curves. “James...”

“Shhh.”

He kissed her again, interrupting all thoughts of further conversation, further prodding for things he himself hadn’t decided yet.

He flipped her over and hooked her hands around the edge of the mattress. Her hips were lifted as high into the air. He forced her thighs apart as wide as they would go.

“I haven’t taken you like this yet,” he remarked, lazily tracing the smooth, clean line from ass down to the puddle over her opening. “I started to, but we were interrupted.”

She sighed into the sheets, but said nothing.

“Now, you owe me.”

She remained perfectly immobile as he slipped off the bed. She stayed that way the whole time he walked to the closet and fingered the hook containing his belts. The jingle of metal, the whisper of leather ... Cora gasped.

James bit back his grin as he pulled one down. He shut the doors, deliberately taking every second to terrorize her senses.

“No, this isn’t for your hands,” he told her when she pressed the soft flesh of her wrists together.

He closed the ends, letting the triangle at one end align with the buckle. He wrapped the slack around his hand, leaving a short loop at the end.

“You broke your promise, Cora.” He dragged the cool leather up the inside of her thighs towards the apex where she’d begun to drip on the sheets. “You swore you would never fall for me. I believed you.”

“James...”

He gave her a sharp tap, silencing her. “You don’t get to talk. I talk. You listen.”

She moaned into the mattress. Her thighs quivered as they widened further. Her fingers bunched into the edge.

But he was lost in the thick run of cream trickling over her lips and raining in droplets down the insides of her legs. Some just drizzled off her clit to form a dark, wet patch between her knees.

“Fuck me,” he groaned. “Look at you.” He rubbed the flat end of his belt between her lips, smearing it in her juices. “Your pussy’s such a mess right now. What has you so excited, I wonder? It couldn’t possibly be the thing that’s going to cause you pain, is it?”

He gave her clit a biting slap in emphasis.

Cora yelped. Her knees began to come together.

“Don’t!” he warned. “Keep them open. I want to watch you leak for me.”

He rubbed her with the belt again, pacifying the burn it had created by teasing the hard nub into submission.

“Do you love me, Cora?”

Her head lifted off the mattress, her face lost in the tangle of her hair, but he could see the defiance glinting in her eyes.

“Yes.”

The first blow landed on her right cheek. The skin blazed white before patching with a beautiful, red welt.

To her credit, she only flinched.

“Do you love me, Cora?”

There were tears in her voice this time. “Yes.”

He got her left cheek.

She whimpered.

He gave her a moment to collect herself while he went back to stroking her clit, keeping her wet, keeping her ready for when he claimed his pussy.

“Cora.”

He didn’t pose the question this time.

“Yes.”

He caught her inner right thigh.

She sobbed. Her toes curled into the mattress.

“Are you punishing me for loving you?” she croaked, the heartbreak in her voice cutting at him.

“Yes, because I told you I would hurt you, because I told you I would destroy you, because I told you I would make you my toy and you said ... what did you say, Cora?”

Her back shuddered. “Please.”

“Please,” he whispered. “You put your life, your body, your soul into my hands.”

He smacked her left thigh.

Cora cried.

His beautiful Cora.

“Tell me you don’t,” he urged, slipping into the place between her legs. “Tell me you were wrong. Tell me the three words that can end all of this.”

Her head was rocking even before he finished speaking.

“No,” she squeaked.

James sighed, not entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

But it didn’t matter.

None of it did anymore.

He reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out a silver foil. He pulled it over his cock. The belt was dropped onto the sheets and lay forgotten as he reached for her hips.

He worked into her slowly, feeding himself into her with agonizing patience. He watched as her tight ring gave, accepting the fat head of his dick into her most sensitive place.

He hit her end and pulled back.

He repeated the motion over and over again, dragging out every second to maddening lengths. Her hips rose with each descend, welcoming him home.

“Like this?”

Cora nodded.

He moved over her, flattening her body, driving her thighs completely apart until her mound was directly on the mattress in a split. He put his hands over hers, curling them into the ledge for leverage.

He plunged.

Rough.

Violent.

Merciless.

He pounded into her soppy entrance with every ounce of his frustration.

He fucked her as if he hated her.

Cora screamed.

He smothered it with a palm over her mouth.

“Not when you’re so close, sweetheart,” he hissed into her ear. “Can’t have Mommy and Daddy running in while you’re coming all over my cock.”

She thrashed under him, struggling for escape, struggling to lift her hips for more.

He would give her one, but she was never escaping him.

“I’m going to make you come until you can’t fucking breathe, Cora,” he purred, sinking his teeth into the shell of her ear. “I’m going to show you just what kind of man you claim to love.”

She came with a brutal force that even he had a hard time restraining. Her entire body bucked wildly, impaling her harder on his cock until he was sure she’d hurt herself. He kept a tight vice over her mouth, muffling her screams.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Breathe,” he taunted. “We’re not done.”

He pulled his hand off her mouth, allowing her several sharp gulps of air before clamping into place again.

Abandoning the hold he had on her hands, he snagged his wrist beneath her hips and cupped her slippery lips. He pried them apart and teased her clit, fast, pitiless.

She came again, legs kicking into the mattress.

Then again.

And again.

With every destruction, he claimed her, he imprinted every inch of his cock into her convulsing channel until even he couldn’t stand it.

She wouldn’t walk in the morning, but he didn’t give a fuck.

She was his perfect little toy.

“You look beautiful like this,” he growled. “Completely at my mercy, completely destroyed. Fuck, Cora. I want to fucking ruin you.”

She sobbed into his hand, her tears mixing with her saliva and his sweat.

He kissed her cheek as he came, driving his hips into her until there was nothing left to pump out. Her pussy continued to vibrate around him, micro seizures that rippled throughout her entire body in tiny shudders.

He withdrew and smirked when she whimpered. He straddled her prone body, his rubber cased cock dropping across the globes of her ass in thin streams.

“Look at this.” He grabbed her and flipped her over so she could see the mess she’d made. “That’s all you, sweetheart. Come here and clean me off.”

She struggled, reminding him of a baby calf learning to walk as she willed her trembling thighs to close and her limbs to move. She got on all fours and bent over him.

Her lips closed around the head and sank, gathering everything she’d left behind on him.

“What do you say, Cora? Ready for another round?”

Her head came up, her lips as pink and swollen as he imagined her pussy would be. Red welts from his fingers marred the soft flesh of her cheeks, emphasizing the tear burns mixed with the smudge of leftover makeup. Her eyes locked with his, searching, possibly assessing the level of his sincerity.

But he was damn serious.

Her answer was the slow removal of the ruined condom and her unwavering hold of his gaze.

“Are you going to try and fuck the love out of me, Captain?” she breathed. “Do you think if you fuck me hard enough, deep enough, making me come until my pussy hurts that I’ll stop loving you?”

James snarled. His fingers closed around her jaw, forcing her neck back even further.

“Christ, that mouth. I never know if I want to stick my cock in there or a bar of soap.”

She smirked, and without any prompting from him, took his cock into her mouth.

James woke the next morning to being completely surrounded by a soft, slumbering woman and a tight, wet pussy. The latter still cradled his cock where he’d slammed into her one final time before passing out.

It had almost been dawn, he remembered vaguely, so he couldn’t have dozed off for more than a few minutes judging from the light pink still creeping outside the window.

Gingerly, he pulled free of her locked arms and clasped ankles around the back of his thighs, and her possessive vagina. The woman sighed, but remained sleeping.

James remained kneeling between her sprawled thighs, taking in the sight of her after a long, vicious night of incessant fucking.

She’d feel it and that was what he wanted.

Careful not to wake her, he moved down her marked and used body to the heart of his world. Her pussy looked as inviting and beautiful as ever, if not aggressively used and abused.

He kissed her, her warm, moist lips. He tongued her clit, her hole, pressing against the sensitive ring to the center.

Cora whined. Her body twitched. Her fingers found clumps of his hair and urged him harder against her mound.

He rose up on his hands and went to her mouth. He repeated it all over again, rubbing his tongue tainted with her taste over hers.

Cora moaned. Her hips rose, thighs already open wide, pussy waiting.

She would let him fuck her to death, and Christ, he loved her for it.

“Not this time, sweetheart.” He pressed a hand between them and gently rubbed flesh that was no doubt tender. “She needs rest.”

“Five minutes,” she breathed in her sleep. “Then I want him inside me.”

He left here swaddled in sheets and dressed.

He packed his things carefully into his duffle, erasing himself from the room.

Then he sat at her vanity and wrote her the last letter she would ever get from him.

He propped it against the lamp and alarm clock, took one last look at her, and walked out.

“Leaving so soon?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised that De Marco was already up and dressed, but the sight of the man made his molars throb with the force of his clenched jaw.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

De Marco raised an eyebrow. “Who could sleep through that earthquake we seemed to have all night?” He took a step forward, gaze never wavering. “Is that how you normally conclude business, Captain? One final night before you pack your bags and hit the road?”

Heat splintered the pain already radiating through him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, get out of my way.”

“So, you’re not leaving my daughter sleeping in bed to sneak out?”

The duffle hit the marble at his feet.

He swung without thinking. His knuckles collided with the chiseled line of De Marco’s jaw. The crack echoed through the halls like lightening.

“This is on you!” His fingers closed in the man’s lapel and he rammed him into the nearest wall, knocking over paintings and a vase. Both struck the ground and shattered to pieces. “You have taken everything from me!” James pulled him back and slammed him into the wall again. The man did nothing to stop him. “My family. My life. The woman I love.” With the last of what he had, James shoved away before he killed the man out of pure, blind rage. “If I stay and I let you live, then I’m betraying Annie. I’m spitting on everything that happened to her. If I kill you, then I lose Cora. She’ll hate me and I’d rather die than see that in her eyes. You son of a bitch!”

“James.”

Like a soft, pale ghost, Elise appeared at his side. Her tiny hand settled like a brave bird on his arm, stopping his fist from flying a second time.

Without a word, she stepped into his arms, tugging him down and enfolding every rigid length of him against her soft one. Her hands roamed lovingly over his hair, and down his back.

“I know, darling,” she whispered into his ear. “You’ve been hurting for so long.”

Short of shoving her aside and finishing what he’d started, James stood unmoving in the comfort of her embrace. He fought against the soothing waves rippling through him with every gentle glide of her palm.

“I’m so sorry.”

Years of fighting collided with the hub of his pain and both exploded in a shower of anguish that nearly ripped the very ground out from under him.

He sucked in a breath and held it, too afraid it would come out in a sob if he dared release.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”

He wasn’t sure he believed that, but the way she said it made him want to.

She drew back and took his face between her cool hands. Her face was streaked with tears that made him feel like shit.

“Don’t...”

She offered him a shaky smile. “It’s what you do when you’re hurting for someone you care about.” Her smile slipped. “Don’t go, sweetie. You belong here. This is your place.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can. We’re your family, James. We will protect you and be there for you.”

Again, he rocked his head. “Annie...”

A large hand settled on her small shoulder.

Immediately her touch vanished and she slipped to one side so De Marco could take her place.

“I have something for you,” the man said.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would be driving through the city in the same car as Giovanni De Marco, he probably would have told that person to get off the drugs. Yet as he sat in the passenger’s side seat of De Marco’s Lincoln, he couldn’t help shake his head in astonishment and wonder how the hell his life got so fucked up.

Granted, it hadn’t always been baskets of roses, but he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. It had been that simple. For fifteen years, his main goal had been to put a bullet in De Marco’s skull and walk away whistling. Now, the very idea made his stomach queasy, and not because he inexplicably liked the man. But because of Elise and Cora. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with one, but there was fondness, a deep gratitude for the other.

He even had to grudgingly admit he almost respected De Marco. The man was a raging douche canoe, but he loved his family. He would do anything to protect them, and that had earned a sliver of James’s appreciation.

“Consider it a wedding present.”

De Marco’s voice intruded into the chaos of James’s mind, pulling him out of his own reverie to blink at the landscape of concrete and sheet metal. The car sat facing a sudden plummet off a short ledge into the ocean.

For a jolting moment, he thought for sure De Marco was going to kill him and toss him over. Cora would never know. She’d wake up, find his things gone, and think he’d simply abandoned her forever.

Which, he kind of had.

De Marco rolled out of his seat and slammed the door closed behind him.

James tentatively followed, gaze scanning the area for signs of an ambush.

It was a warehouse district, mostly abandoned judging from the broken windows and amount of graffiti. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

“This way.”

De Marco motioned with a nod of his head towards the building on their left. It was more rust than metal, but it had all its windows and not a graffiti in sight.

The man pulled the iron door open and waved James in.

This is it, he thought to himself as he sucked in a breath and walked in.