I hated this. I hated that we weren’t there to protect him, but we were in the city and that meant we’d get there faster than we would’ve if we’d been at home. But if we’d stayed with him, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament in the first place.
Everyone in the car fell silent; the only sound was Cillian messing with his gun. He had the right idea because at this stage I was ready to go in with guns blazing. I’d kill Cummins if he hurt a hair on Vail’s head.
When the SUV stopped, I jumped out of the door, with Cillian and Rowen right behind me. Ardan and Mancini, the Company’s assassin and hitman, met us. They each had a handgun out and ready to use and their faces were pinched. The streets were weirdly empty, with only a few kids over by a basketball court watching us curiously. They didn’t look like the type to run and call the cops, merely intrigued by the guys in suits with guns.
“Where is he?” Cillian snapped as he came to a stop near Ardan. His face had gone from pale to flushed, anger lighting his eyes until they were nearly on fire. More blood would be spilled today after all.
“He took your boy to his apartment, second floor.” Ardan waved his hand at some open curtains. “He’s got him tied up and is asking questions.”
“Fuck.” I flipped down the safety lever on my rifle. “We’re going in. No more waiting.”
“I agree,” Cillian snapped.
Even though Rowen was the more sensible one, he seemed at the ready, too, his Barretta Storm clutched tightly in his hand.
Sloan sighed. “Fine, but get in and out. Try and make it as quiet as possible. No rifles.” He waved his hand at the guns Cillian and I held. “Tadgh, get us some Glocks.”
Tadgh nodded and raced around to the back of the SUV, raising the hatch to grab Glocks with silencers out of a storage case, which we traded our guns for.
Sloan gave us each a look. “You do realize you’ll be killing a cop?”
“It’s worth it,” Cillian growled out, and I nodded in agreement.
“Fine.” Sloan smirked, eyes dancing in glee. “Get the job done, and when you’re finished, we’ll get out of here and dump the weapons.”
We glanced at each other, the thirst for blood stirring inside me. Maybe I was a monster, I didn’t know, but Vail was ours, and no one touched what belonged to us.
Cummins would die.
9
VAIL
Detective Cummins paced aroundthe room, glaring at me. His square jaw ticked. He drew back his shoulders and his black Henley stretched across his hard chest. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. My heart did a crazy, scared jig in my chest as his flinty gaze met mine. He must have gotten a haircut recently because the sides of his buzz cut were nearly a shave.
There wasn’t much for him to dodge on his circuit of the room. One couch. No TV. No art on the dingy, water-stained, formerly white walls. Every time he passed a window he paused to stare out of it with his gun clutched in his hand. The weapon was black, and despite living with four men who used them regularly, I had no idea what make and model it was—but that hardly mattered when any kind could kill me. The kitchen through the archway was stacked with pizza boxes but no dishes.
The apartment felt abandoned or maybe kept for... something insidious. It wasn’t someone’srealhome. My knee tried to jiggle, but I couldn’t move my legs because they’d been the first thing to get strapped down with duct tape to an old wooden chair. I let out a long breath and tried to keep my head, flexing my hands into fists. If it wasn’t for all the dangerous things that had happened to me recently while with my men, I probably would have fallen into a blind panic by now, but as it was, I was simply exhausted by the prospect of being upset again. I heaved a sigh and strained my hands, but they were also strapped to the chair arms with duct tape, the same as my legs.
Was this how Cillian, Rowen, and Aspen felt when bad things happened? They never seemed shaken the way I thought they should during a horrible situation, and I was beginning to get there myself. My lack of tangible fear was extremely disconcerting. I tugged with my arms, but the tape didn’t budge.
“Why are you doing this?” I said for maybe the billionth time. I couldn’t stop my mouth from running, even though I could see Detective Cummins’ jaw twitch every time I spoke. “You are a police officer. A man of the law. You should have taken me to a precinct. Which one do you work out of? The one nearest MCU I’d guess. Am I right? I’m not going to let this go,” I said, tugging my arms again. I strained with my entire body until the muscles of my abs ached, but the chair was sturdy and reminded me of the ones we had in the formal dining room back at the house. Panting, I gave up and rested my head back to stare at the ceiling.
He let out a growl. “Do you have a fuckingoffbutton?” His words were a gravelly bark I could have lived without. He eyed up the cardboard roll on the floor that the duct tape had been on, and I was briefly thankful he’d wasted it all tying me up. I suspected I’d have it on my mouth right about now if he hadn’t.
“You’re supposed to help people. This isn’t helping. When’s the last time you did some good? Ever? The day I met you, did you hurt someone who needed your help? That’s bad karma, you know.”
“Help? You want to talk about fucking kismet or some bullshit? You’re one of the bad guys.” He paused near the window and turned toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. He tapped the muzzle of his gun against his leg. “It’s not like you’re some innocent man caught in the crossfire.” He whirled around to face me. “A guy like that? Sure, I’d have taken him to the station. But you? You’re worthmoney. A lot of it, if I talk to the right guy. Word on the street is you pissed off some Italians. I’m just having a hell of a time figuring out which ones. I’ve been told by a little birdie—” His expression twisted into something mean that had me cringing against my chair. “—you’re the whore for a pack of Killough’s killers. Don’t sound too innocent to me, Dr. Mifflin. You weren’t begging me to save you from them.” His lip curled and radiated pure disgust.
My stomach tensed. I hadn’t told many people I was dating four men, almost none in fact, but so far the reception I’d gotten from anyone with the knowledge had been one of mostly polite interest, and certainly not this horrible judgment. My heart raced and anger popped and sparkled through my veins.
I tugged at my restraints, making my wrists and ankles ache. “I am not going to be judged by a policeman violating his oath of service. You’re outrageously idiotic if you think—”
“You wanna talk about one of us being dumb? You’re fucking stupid enough to spill secrets on the mob.” He snorted. “That’s the running guess at the station as to why Manhattan Central University was firebombed, but the bigwigs at the university think you’re worth more to them than fixing the buildings.” He shook his head, and I cringed. Whoever had been investigating this mess was spot on.
“If the police know so much, why hasn’t anyone been arrested?”
“Guessing is one thing and evidence is another.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of men walking free right now who shouldn’t be. That’s how shit works.”
