Carter Reed 2

“So you know Carter?” Amanda asked, more to herself. She had been watching the exchange, but looked back down at her lap.

“I’m fine,” I said. My voice was firmer this time. It didn’t come out as a weird squeak. “Carter’s coming back anyway, but I’m fine. What happened?”

“Wait a minute. That was your club?” Noah stepped forward. He loomed over Cole, or he should have. He was taller and larger, but Cole’s complete stillness somehow outmatched Noah instead.

“It’s my family’s club, but mine now.” Cole narrowed his eyes. “Did you not know the name?”

“The name…” Noah trailed off. “Fuck me.”

Amanda looked at Theresa. “I didn’t pay attention. What was the name?”

Theresa’s shoulders dropped as she realized it, too. “Mauricio. That’s the name of the club. We didn’t—I didn’t even put two and two together.”

“Carter said he knew who owned it, but I never considered.” Noah shook his head. “We wouldn’t have gone there if we’d known.”

I tuned them all out. I didn’t care whose club it was. “Was I the target, or was the club the target?” I asked Cole.

“The bomb went off in the back of the club. If you’d been closer to the door, you would’ve been killed.” He glanced at Thomas.

My gaze jerked over to him, too. There had been guards on the other side of the door, at least two. “Thomas...”

He looked at the floor, shifting away from me slightly. I got my answer.

Those men were gone. We’d lost two of our men. I gasped, a new pain filling me. Those men had died because of me, for me. “I’m so sorry, Thomas.” Looking at Michael, I repeated, “I’m so sorry.”

“What? What’s happening?” Theresa’s head swiveled around. “What happened?”

“Theresa,” Noah murmured. “They lost some of their men.”

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my god.”

Amanda gripped my hand again, flicking a tear from her eye with the other one. “I’m sorry, Emma,” she whispered.

They were Carter’s men, and they were all like brothers. I didn’t know the ins and outs of their operation, but I knew Carter would be wounded when he found out. He trusted his life and mine to them. I nodded, but it hurt to move. The numbness was going away. Suddenly it hurt to breathe again.

I didn’t want to be there. It was too much. I patted Amanda’s arm, as tears swam in my eyes, blurring my vision. People had died because of me. It hurt to be there.

“Emma?” she asked.

“Bed. I just want to go to bed.”

She nodded, looking at Thomas, who came over to help me down the hall.

Once I was underneath the bedcovers, Amanda helped the rest of the way. She waved Thomas off, saying, “I’ll help her. This is what we do.”

He nodded and headed back outside, but before the door closed, Theresa came in with a cup in her hand. She placed it onto the bed stand and asked Amanda, “What can I do?”

Amanda slid into the bed next to me. “Listen to them out there. Get all the information you can. Emma will want to know later. She’s in mourning right now.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

I closed my eyes, but I could feel her gaze on me.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” Theresa whispered.

A tear slid down my face.

“She needs Carter,” Amanda said. “I’ll stay with her until he comes.”

“Okay.” Theresa moved away, then murmured from the door, “Love you guys.”

“Love you, too.”

The door closed, and Amanda asked, “Do you want the light off or on?”

“On.” There was no question about it. Definitely on.

“Okay.” She lay down and held my hand.

I just hurt. That’s all I knew then. I might’ve slept, but I had no idea. I just hurt.

Though every phone on the plane seemed to ring at once, it was Gene who told me about the bombing. I knew something was wrong, and when I picked up my phone I expected Thomas, but before I could speak into it, Gene thrust out his hand, an unspoken command to wait. So I did.

When he hung up, he wasted no time. “There was a bombing at the Mauricio.”

I knew then. The family’s nightclub. Theresa was in New York. The question about Emma was forefront, but I searched my mentor’s gaze. He hid nothing. He looked back at me, gazing steadily, and there were no shadows in his depths. I would’ve been able to see it if anything had happened to her. But still I asked, “She was hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

My phone rang again, and I answered this time. “Is she hurt?”

Cole hesitated the briefest of seconds. “From what I’ve been told, only a few sprains, and she had a cut in her mouth.”

Okay.

She was fine.

The storm brewing inside me didn’t rage, but it was there. It simmered.

I asked my second question. “Was she the target?”

“God help us,” Gene muttered beside me.

I ignored him, waiting for Cole’s answer

“We don’t know. The bomb was left in a bag at the back of the club. She was outside talking with a friend. If she was the target, that was the closest they could get to her. If she wasn’t the target, it might’ve been left as a warning to us? They might’ve been hoping not to kill as many as they did.” He sounded wary. “We can’t know for sure.”