When are you coming back?” Nate asks, his voice as argumentative as it always is when he’s out of his depth. “I’m not fucking telling him, Quinn. You need to get back here and face him. We all want to know what the fuck’s gone down.”

I frown into the phone, irritated with his damn tone and stare at Emily fucking around in this studio. I don’t care a shit for facing my father or telling him where Josh is. He’s dead. There’s nothing else to say on the matter. How it hasn’t happened before Emily is anyone’s guess, regardless of my protection.

She walks past me into the back of the studio, tidying up some loose cables and beginning to pack her laptop away. Then she smiles as she comes out and wanders away from me again.

“When I’m goddamn ready, Nate.” It’s about the only fucking response I’ve got for him. Life is different here, interesting with her ass in my face all the time.

“Do you want some tea before we go?” she mouths as she pops her head around the corner, pretending to sip a cup of tea. The mimic is as fucking cute as she is.

I shake my head at her and stand, ready to take this conversation with my brother out of her earshot. I’ve barely talked to him about it since the morning after the event, not managing to find the right words to give context to the scenario. I just told him Josh had been killed. Gambling game gone wrong, and that I’d get the body back to Chicago soon. That was three days ago. Two of which I’ve spent with her trying to forget the whole fucking night. I just need to see she’s good again. Then I can sort shit out. Deal with it all.

The door clatters as I head outside into the wintery weather and gaze at passing traffic, all the time listening to his grumbling about the fact that it’s not his job to run everything. And that it’s not his job to deal with Father. And that it’s not his job to do anything but the damn numbers. He’s right, it isn’t, but it’s also not his fucking job to question how I do run everything. From London or not.

“And who the fuck killed him, Quinn? What family? You’ve told us nothing.” I narrow my eyes at the slow crawl of traffic around me and kick up some leaves beneath my feet, still unsure who should know the truth and who shouldn’t. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Why won’t you talk?”

“It’s not as simple as that, Nate,” I mutter.

“The hell’s not simple about it? He’s our brother, Quinn. Cane’s don’t just die for no fucking reason. What have you done about...”

He carries on ranting, becoming more infuriated the longer I refuse to talk to him. It’s not that I don’t trust him. He’ll do whatever I tell him to. It’s more that he likes Emily and he might not after this. For some fucking reason, I care about that more than I thought I could.

She passes by the window, another small smile coming at me as she shrugs into her coat and starts switching lights off. She looks picture fucking perfect, framed by her own little empire.

“Emily shot him, Nate.”

There’s a hushed silence on the end of the phone. It’s exactly what I expected. He’s probably calculating the facts as smoothly as he does his numbers, trying to work out why and how without my explanation. One thing’s for sure; he’ll know why I’ve been so quiet now. He knows how I feel about her. He has since before I did.

“Why?”

“To protect me.”

More silence comes after that, followed by a huff and the phone going dead.

I nod at the blank phone screen in my hand, acknowledging his need to go assimilate that information. I’m not sure what the fuck I would be doing if the situation were reversed, but I’d need the time, too, one way or another. He knows me well enough to know this has become far from a simple revenge kill.

“You ready?” she asks, her fingers turning the key in the lock.

“That security isn’t worth shit,” I say, instantly scrolling through my phone to find Shifty’s number.

“What do you mean?” I don’t answer her. Instead, I start us walking and send a message to Shifty to get the place secure. If she’s going to be there alone, she’ll have the best money can buy protecting her assets. “Quinn?”

“Give me your studio keys?” She does with no other questions as she drops them into my palm. “The guys will need two days to lock down the security for you. You’ll have to close shop while they go in.”

“What?”

“The studio. Unless you want another building instead?” She frowns and shuffles her scarf around, tipping her defiant little chin up into the air and still refusing any monetary help from me.

“I told you I don’t want that.” No, but I do. I’m fucking desperate to give her some of this wealth. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of the debt I still feel I owe her for saving my life, dead brother or not. “Besides, it’s extortionate here. Have you seen London prices lately? It nearly kills me every month to pay the rent on this and the house.”

“Why bother then?” She spins on me so quick I take a step back from her feisty little face, arching a brow at the attitude. “You don’t need to. I’ve told you. You can have anything you want.”

“It’s mine, Quinn. I built it. I run it. Mine, do you understand? I’ll pay the money myself.” I chuckle and move around her, amused at her tone and loving her all the more for it. Shooting a man seems to have solidified whatever passion I knew was hiding there. My dirty girl’s turned into a hellcat since that night. “Do you?” she asks again, her arm linking through mine as she catches up. “Because I have to be my own person, Quinn. You know that, right?” I nod and weave us through the crowds around Pimlico, heading for the restaurants and bars. “It won’t work if you don’t respect me.” She has more of my respect than anyone has ever had. She had that the moment she shot my brother to protect me, and then again in my bedroom when she told me she loved me. Not that she needs to know, she owns every next fucking breath that comes from my lungs. Debt or not. “It’s all about trust and respect, Quinn. Love is like that.” Is it?

I frown and keep going, swiping at my phone as it buzzes with a text from Shifty.

I send one back telling him to meet us in The Galley House Restaurant in fifteen minutes and asking if he’s found Jenny yet.

Good. I smile and flick the phone into my pocket, amused that the deceitful little bitch has finally been located. Shifty can have his fun for a while before I ask Emily what she wants to do with that information.

“So, where are we going?” she asks, her heels clacking the pavement as she starts walking backwards in front of me. “I’ve shown you some of London, but what else do you want to see?”

“I’m hardly a tourist, Em.”

“I know, but this is nice. These past few days have been…” I catch her before her feet tumble her straight into the road, righting her back to facing forward.

“Your walking ability still needs work.”

“I know. Thank you. Anyway, I was saying.” She giggles, making my fucking hand slide into hers for some reason. “There are all these places you can’t possibly have seen. Nice places. Places where no gangster stuff happens. Normal and...” I stop and push her against the nearest wall, smothering her mouth with my own before she forgets who she’s fallen for. Love or not, I am still a Cane. Life with me will never be roses and laughter. Half this damn city owes me something and my gun is still under this jacket. Always will be.

She gasps as I increase my pressure on her, my knee finding its way between her thighs and grinding into her as I tighten my hold. Then that damn whimper comes, the one that does all kinds of things to my dick. If we weren’t out here on the sidewalk I’d fuck her where she stands.

I pull away eventually, too wound up to think about what the fuck I was trying to achieve in the first place.

“What was that for?” she asks breathlessly.

“Cane.” She looks confused. It’s not fucking surprising. I am, too. Have been since the night she killed my brother and I felt something other than hate because of it. “There will always be shit to deal with, Emily. Business doesn’t stop because of you. It never will.”

She nods, her face falling from the happy look it had minutes ago. Tough. I can do no more than I am doing for our future, my family’s included.

“Always?”

“Always.” In my lifetime, anyway.

A soft sigh comes from her as she wraps her arms around herself and looks away from me up the road.

“Isn’t there a way out, at all?”

“No. Not for me.”

The next generation will have that blessing, but not mine. We’ll keep battling our entire lives regardless of my push for modernisation, always half in the shadows and wondering what old fucking ghosts will haunt us next. Maybe it will be less criminal in some ways, but I’m no fucking fool. Clean or not, we will still have to deal with our past.

She nods again and pushes off the wall, brightening her features and pointing along the crowds to our destination.

“We should make the most of our time, then.” We should. She’s right, because when I leave I’m still not sure if I’m coming back or not. “When are you flying back to Chicago?” Her voice is hesitant and I can hear sadness in it.

“When I’m ready.” I’m not. Not yet.

“Okay. Well, do you like the cinema?”

I shake my head at her, wondering when the hell the last time was that I went to see a movie and take hold of her hand again.

“Do you?”

“Yes. Especially chick flicks, but not as much as live theatre or concerts. Have you ever been?”

We keep walking, part of me not listening to a word she’s saying and another part fascinated with every damn word. She’s like a breath of fresh air, untainted and yet one of us simply by her actions. Not that she did anything other than kill to protect. But I guess that’s all I’ve done through these years. Protect what’s mine and the things I love.

The restaurant comes into view a while later. It’s one I’ve never been to, but the grapevine in London says it’s the best. The first response when I called was that there wasn’t availability. Money seemed to change that opinion. I told her I’d take her to dinner if she woke lucid, treat her properly. I meant it. Especially after she stood up to me and told me of a life that could be made to happen. That damned life might not be fucking perfect, but she’ll get the best I can give until I work out how the hell to make all this fit together.

“Really?” she asks, her hands flustering around her clothes, as she looks up at the venue. “I’m not dressed for this, Quinn. Couldn’t we go…”

I’ve grabbed her arm and headed her for the door before she gets a chance to finish her sentence. This is what she’ll have to damn well get used to, along with the heels she’ll have to learn to walk in.

“Get used to it, Em. You’re with me now.” Maybe. I don’t fucking know, but she’ll hold her damn head high regardless. “Your clothes don’t mean a damn thing.” She trips over something, making me roll my fucking eyes. I snatch her up and nod at the doorman. “Your walk, however, does.”

She giggles and runs her hand down to mine, crinkling her eyes as she smiles back and straightens herself.

We’re shown to a table by the window, looking out over the hustle of the town. I smile at the view and wonder how long I can keep this going before I have to get back to Chicago. Marco’s already emailing me. New deals to discuss. And Nate’s now pissed, probably needing guidance on forward momentum.

“You need to go, don’t you?” she asks.

“What?”

“Back.” She lowers her eyes to the table, searching the menu. “I’m not stupid, Quinn. And this has been lovely, but I heard your tone with Nate. I’m sure he needs to know what’s happened.” I don’t answer. I pick up my own menu and look at it, not ready to discuss anything other than food. It can all go to hell until I’ve had some time with her. Time to think. Time to make sure she’s okay. “You can, go I mean. It’s okay. We’ll find a way.” She frowns and takes a gulp of some water. “If you want to.”

The whisper of her last words makes me reach across and grab her fingers, still unable to tell her the entirety of how I feel, but not wanting any hint of that frown on her beautiful face. Red scar or not.

“You still want me, and I’ll come back, Em.” She smiles and tightens her fingers in mine, a small nod at the thought. “You’re right, though. There’s business that needs dealing with. Nate’s one of those problems.”

“He’ll hate me,” she says, anguish clear in her eyes. No he won’t. He won’t hate anything I love, but it will take time.

A waiter arrives and takes our order, bringing with him a selection of wines. I choose one and send him away, wanting to keep the conversation private.

“So, cinema?” she asks, darting back to our earlier conversation and avoiding the harsher line of reality.

Fuck the movies. Fuck anything that has anything to do with me not being inside her in the next couple of hours. That’s all I want. It’s all I’ve wanted these last few days. Well, that and watching her smile as she tries to put what she did behind her. She still scrubs her hands too viciously for my liking. Still stares at her reflection for too long in the mirror, questioning herself. Trouble is, she’ll never wipe that shit away. I haven’t managed it yet either. Blood sticks, no matter the reason why you shed it.

“How about going home so you can suck my dick instead,” I say, not caring about the date we’re supposedly on.

She laughs, brightening up the damn room. It’s a laugh I want with me for a long while yet. One I’ll make a point of coercing out of her as often as I can, regardless of this world I live in, her too now. That’s all I’ve got to give her to help her forget. “You can toss my dice, try and get those three fucking words you’re after out of me again.”

She will one day.

Not without trying my damn patience first, though.

“One day you’ll answer a question of mine without me having to dig.”

“Maybe, but we do have some business to discuss.”

“Oh?” she pipes up, looking half anxious, half intrigued.

“I have Jenny locked up in a warehouse. What do you want to do with her?” She gawps at me, her mouth opening and closing. “Shifty’s having his fun before you decide what she deserves.”

“What she deserves?”

“Yes.”

“Let her go,” she snaps, tenacity hardening every feature she has.

I frown, not understanding what the fuck she’s talking about. “Why would I do that?”

“I paid the damn debt, Quinn. You call Shifty now and tell him to release her.”

“No.”

She stands up and throws her napkin on the table, ass swerving the tables before I know what’s fucking happening. I follow and have her back in my arms before she reaches the door, manoeuvring her along the hallway and into a quiet side room.

“The fuck was that?” She shrugs from my hold, hands on hips like she owns the goddamn world around her.

“You let her go or you can go to Chicago and not come back as far as I’m bloody concerned. I will not be complicit in this shit of yours.”

She arches a brow back at me. The fucking venom that pours from her frame makes my dick stir. It’s as arousing as the decency that comes from her on most occasions, making me want to do all kinds of shit to her.

“You want to let her get away with it?”

“Get away with what, Quinn? She’s the reason we’re here together now. Without her none of this would have happened. I love you. You think that’s something I want revenge for? I’m not like you. My first thought isn’t revenge. You might not be able to change, but I sure as hell won’t for you. I’ve fallen far enough into your world.”

The fucking decency of the words floor me, my own mouth not having any damn answers to throw at her no matter how much I want to argue my point. “You asked me what I want to do with her? I want to let her go, Quinn.” She glares at me. “Let. Her. Go.”