“Are they all just sick in the head?” That seems as good of a place as any to start.
Ty chuckles. Fuck, he’s sexy in his thievery gear. Dressed in all black—a fitted leather jacket stealing the show—sleek and strong and prepped for destruction. We’re around the corner from our target, shrouded by some gangly trees, behind an abandoned warehouse. I’m perched on the parked motorcycle—a Kawasaki Ninja H2R, which is freaking sick—while Ty paces leisurely beside me. It’s more of a countdown than a stakeout. And he’s been cool as a cucumber. In his element.
“There she is.” He halts his stride and grins victoriously, obliterating the dark in a single gesture. “Are we actually going to talk about this?”
“Yes,” I wheeze the concession with an eye roll. “The silence is killing me.”
Refusing to dig into my emotions about this whole ordeal was bugging him, and for some reason, I enjoyed that. Being the youngest of six cements some bratty tendencies. What can I say? But Ty plays fucking dirty sometimes—like cuffing me to a pillar. This time, he shackled me with quietude. I prefer the cuffs.
“Nothing like waiting until the eleventh hour,” he jeers before toggling our comm microphones off and addressing myare they sickosquestion. “Yes and no.” He mounts the bike, facing me, his gloved knuckles sweeping across my cheekbone, evoking genuine chills. “The KORT founders transformed organizations involved in despicable criminal activity into a primarily legitimate business. Now, we hold the majority of power throughout the country, and we take care of those who serve under us. To an outsider, it wouldappear evil, but in the crime world, we’re only wicked when cornered. There’s even a moral code of conduct as part of the bylaws.”
He barks a hushed but dubious laugh, as though he doubts his own assessment while dragging a hand down his face. “It’s twisted. But you already know you’re not in bed with a saint. If the guys and I didn’t have a modicum of respect for KORT, we wouldn’t have pursued seats. And Ivy certainly wouldn’t have gone for it.”
“That answers thenopart. Tell me about the affirmative to my sicko query,” I quip, allowing my hands to peruse his solid thighs.
He hedges for a second, but there’s an authenticity to his tone that fuels me. He’s confident I can handle this. “It’s not so different from how your brothers do business. KORT is testing us because they need to know we’re with them no matter the cost. And if we aren’t, they won’t risk the organization as a whole. So, they don’t see neutralizing as evil. They view it as a necessary protection for those counting on them.” His brows pinch, like he’s mulling that over. “It’s still fucking sick. Cross them, and it’s brutal.”
“Okay,” I breathe with a nonchalant shrug—maintaining the lightness my accelerated heart rate is desperately attempting to dispel. “I’m going to rapid-fire all the questions I tucked away so I can wrap my mind around this before we get to it. Ready?”
“Give ’em to me.” He grips my hips with a seductive smirk, but there’s a veneration in his cognac beauties that stills me. It’s clear that Ty will protect me, shelter me even, like my brothers have. But he perceives something else. Competence. A craving I must have snuffed out long ago, but that awakens under his admiring gaze.
“You mentioned a recording to Ivy. What was that?”
He nods. “I had hoped that if KORT saw you chose to be with us despite your brothers’ objections, they’d let it go. Or at least compose a mild loyalty test. They aren’t always the same because they’re based on the threat level the new member poses. Plus, the head of the family usually has the biggest say in the matter. For us, that’s Ivy. You’re being brought in by the O’Reilly family. Anyway, werecorded your reactions the night your family arrived, hoping that would be sufficient.”
“It wasn’t,” I surmise.
“No.” He shakes his head on a swallow, that guilt he so often wears cloaking him again. “It fucking backfired. I’d guess that’s primarily Balzano’s doing.”
“Right. Dear old Dad hates me.” I’m not sure why I care. I hate him more for what he did to my mother, but it’s a devastation I can’t quite describe, knowing there’s a part of that monster inside me. Right up there with my other father insisting I didn’t have what it took to be a Noire.
After verifying our time on his watch, Ty tows my legs over his, sliding me closer. “He hates us all. And he doesn’t even know you. If anything, he’s afraid of you. He’s a fucking cheater who doesn’t want any reminders of his affair around because he’s a worthless piece of shit.”
“Okay.” I peer around the empty space, listening to the drone of traffic in the distance. “Moving on. Is that the connection that Ivy mentioned KORT is concerned about?”
“I’m not sure.” His wheels are plainly turning with that admission, which is a tad alarming—at least one of us should understand what the hell is going on. “I don’t know if Balzano’s affair has been revealed or not. Last I heard, it hadn’t been. And once everything with you got set in motion, Wells became tight-lipped. But regardless, being a Noire doesn’t work in your favor. Your family is powerful. It’s a conflict to be an heir to an organization that isn’t affiliated with KORT.”
“Makes sense. So, I’m starting out at a deficit,” I return.
“Essentially.” His lips hitch up, but he shakes his head, studying me. “We’ll get through this. Together. True north, baby girl. I won’t let anything happen to you. But it’s going to be rough. I feel like I’m choosing between your soul and our families’ lives. Or maybe I’m sacrificing your soul either way.”
“I’m good. They’re all in danger if we bolt.” It’s not a question, but merely a summary of this mindfuck.
“Yeah,” he rasps. “We’re both considered the highest threat level. I’m privy to all the inner workings. The only way out is death, so if not me, then everyone I love until I show myself—pulse points. And you … since you’re a Noire, they believe you have every incentive to sink a cabal that your family organization is not aligned with.”
“So, all we have to do is pass, and everyone is fine,” I reiterate.
A pensive frown tugs the corners of his mouth down. “Should be. My family serves them—is them—and yours minds their own business. So, once this is done, it’s done.”
Minds their own business.That may not be true, but I won’t ask thewhat if they don’tquestion. The answer to that is obvious.
Bobbing my head in acceptance of our delicate situation, I note how full and bright the moon is tonight. “How long do we have?”
“Seven minutes until we can move in.” He pecks my nose and dismounts, resuming his casual pacing.
Suddenly, the crackle of his boots on the asphalt is deafening—a drumbeat of the anxiety I missed earlier. He’s in his element, but slightly outside of his comfort zone. He’d prefer to be perched somewhere he can play God, but that wasn’t the assignment.
Instead, Liam and Gage are stationed as lookouts. They aren’t permitted to intervene, only assist at a distance. That was in the fine print.
