I really fucking hope they’re not the type to watch the news, and that maybe the way the sides of my head have gone full gray in the last year will be enough for them to not eventhinkthey recognize me.
One of the goons takes two steps forward and pulls his arm back.
I know it’s coming, but that doesn’t help in the least. I don’t think he’s broken my nose, but I feel the blood flowing down my lip.
That’s unpleasant.
I pretend it hurts a lot more and try tothink. Bad news is that, unlike the last time this happened to me, the first thought that pops into my head is Maggie.
I look up and search for a window, any way I can figure out what time it is. I think it was eleven when I saw the goons go into the warehouse. How long have I been out? Fuck, I have to be back home at eight. Maggie—I can’t?—
“What the fuck were you doing snooping around?” The other goon talks this time—barks. I should call them dogs instead of goons with the way they talk, but I actually like dogs, so I won’t.
Fucking hell, Colby, focus. I hear Dad’s voice in my head, but again, unlike last time, it doesn’t help calm me down.
“What time is it?” I ask stupidly. I know it’s a bad idea, but I can’t help it.
“It’s time for you to answer some fucking questions.” Enzo Di Leo, the whiny one who also happens to be the head of the Di Leo family, stalks closer while he rolls up the sleeves of his awful burgundy button down, and I knowthatcan’t be a good thing.
A story starts to form in my head.
Something—anything—that I can tell these assholes so they’ll let me go. I don’t know if such a story even exists, but I need to try.
And fuck, I can only prayhethinks of fucking things up for them tonight. That would be a great distraction.
Preferably very soon.
2
EIAN
“You’re gonna stop making fun of me now?” Harrison asks with that wiseass smirk on his face, then sips his espresso like he’s royalty or some shit. He kind of is, but I’m never saying that out loud.
“You’re always going to be older, cousin.” I smirk right back and sip my whiskey.
“Sure.” He shrugs. “But now you’re part of the fifties club as well. You’ve even got a little gray coming in.” He touches his temples then rolls his eyes. “Fucking finally.”
“Language,” Nan snaps at him.
Titan of industry, unofficial king of this city, billionaire, and fifty-four-year-old man or not, Harry snaps his lips shut at his mother’s chastising. My smirk grows into a smile and I shake my head.
“I don’t mind the grays, or being fifty. You’re the one who’s always been so touchy about your age.”
“Wonder why,” he mutters, but he’s not expecting a response from me.
We all know why.
Crawford men have always dropped dead between the ages of fifty and fifty-five. If his diet and exercise regimen have been successful, though, then I’ll still have a living cousin by next year, so that’s nice.
In reality, a man with Harrison’s money and influence shouldn’t have a problem making sure his heart doesn’t give out on him. Even if the vicious—but tiny—knot in my chest tells me to treasure every moment, I know it’s not intuition, it’s fear.
I can admit to myself—never anyone else—that I do fear my loved ones dying. Only the worst monsters don’t. And though I know first-hand not all monsters are necessarily bad, and I impersonate one quite successfully every day, I know everyone has their weak spots. The majority of mine are sitting around the table tonight to celebrate me being alive for half a century, but no one in my world knows that my nine companions are even remotely important to me.
That’s the way it’s always been and always should be.
My family: Nan, my father’s little sister; Harry and his husband Tristan; Harry’s children, Iris and Theo, who Iconsider my niece and nephew; as well as Theo’s husband Mike, and their twin sons, Mac and Harry.
My blood family.
