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Torian
I spend each minute of the ride to the Naxos port trying not to glare at the back of Amar’s head. I can still smell Anissa, can still feel my mouth against her temple, and this fucker dared to greet me with a smile after the disrespect he paid her.
The only thing stopping me from ripping out his throat is Luca’s judgmental stare.
The scrutinizing SEAL can see right through me, and his focus isn’t on the distraction of a man who threatened something belonging to me. Luca knows I’m mind-fucked by the Fed.
He goddamn knows.
It takes all my hangover-depleted energy to focus on ignoring thoughts of her. Even then my subconscious refuses to stray from Anissa more than momentarily.
I want to get back to the island. She’s too exposed out there on her own.
“What’s the plan today?” Luca keeps his voice low, no doubt making sure we’re not overheard.
“Information. That’s all. We’re not making a move. It’s too risky.”
Amar guides the boat alongside the jetty and cuts the engine.
I don’t hang around to give the asshole a tip. I’m shoving to my feet and jumping onto the walkway before the gangway is put in place.
“Because the Fed will be a loose end on the island?” Luca jogs to catch up with me. “I don’t know why you didn’t send her packing like you promised.”
“She has nothing to do with this. The risk of attacking from here is based on my father’s protection. He’s going to be covered from all angles.” My statement is confirmed when I see Luther waiting on the rocky shore, two men flanking him. “His home has always been his fortress. And those two guards are merely the tip of the iceberg.”
“They’re the guys from last night—Chris and Robert.” Luca remains at my side, matching me step for step. “They were also at your uncle’s funeral.”
“Yeah. I remember. What sort of vibe did you get from them?”
“A whole heap of arrogance with an added dose of fuck-off.”
“Meaning?”
“They didn’t see me as an equal. I was nothing. And I have a feeling they’ll regard you with the same contempt.”
“I’d like to see them try.” I straighten my lapels and stride ahead to greet my father with a handshake. “Morning.”
“Afternoon,” he corrects, his smile forced. “I thought you would’ve made contact earlier.”
“Blame the liquor.” I laugh off his a
“Well, I’m glad to hear you enjoyed yourself, even if it was at the detriment of those who waited around for you to call.”
Comfort and criticism. He’s nothing if not predictable.
“Now that you’re finally here, I’d like you to meet Robert and Chris.” He waves a hand, indicating his goons. “I owe everything to them.”
“Everything?” I offer my hand to the guy on the left—the steroid-infused mammoth. He doesn’t have a flaccid vein in his body. Everything bulges with an overabundance of testosterone. “Chris, is it? You look familiar.”
“Robert,” he grates, his ice-blue eyes emotionless as he grips my hand harder than necessary. “You would’ve seen me in Portland at the graveside service.”
“And you didn’t think to introduce yourself when my father was arrested?” I step away, turning my attention to Chris. “I assume you two are the ones responsible for the escape.”
“That was us.” The leaner of the two grins at me, like he’s earned himself an Olympic medal. “We needed to lay low. We didn’t know who we could trust.”
We shake, the act dismissive on his side. He’s not threatened by my presence.
Bad move.
“In future,” I sneer, “You can rest assured Luther’s son is trustworthy.”
“Sons,” Robert clarifies. “Don’t forget you’re not the only one.”
Bitter irritation throbs through my chest, making it almost impossible not to glare as I drop Chris’s hand. “Don’t correct me. Not unless you want a lesson in ma
“They’re protective. That’s all.” My father defuses the growing tension with a soothing tone. “And they did a great job in Portland. You should be grateful I have such an exceptional team.”
“So the dead prison guard was part of the plan?” Luca’s tone drips with sarcasm. “That’s hardcore.”
I fight a grin and ignore the chastising glare my father shoots me. If he expects me to make a reprimand he’s going to be waiting a hell of a while. “How many of you ran the job? Witness accounts are conflicting. Some said two. Others mentioned four.”
“It was only the two of us.” Robert matches my smirk with his own. “That’s all your father has ever needed while we’ve been on the job.”
“You’re confident. I like it. Although, you wouldn’t hear my team ru
“And maybe we wouldn’t have needed to bring your father home at all if you’d protected Richard properly.”
My hackles rise, my hands clenching into fists. “What did you say?”
“That’s enough,” my father warns. “Let’s get back to the house. Robert, you can get started on the project I mentioned earlier. We can meet up later.”
I dig my fingers into my palms, itching to take this further into hostile territory.
“Come on.” Luther strides for the row of cars parked a few yards from the end of the jetty. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
I shoot a scowl at Luca, letting him know I’m far from appreciative of the warm welcome and follow after my father. “Robert isn’t joining us?”
“I’d prefer not to cram five of us in the car. He can catch up later.”
“What a shame,” Luca drawls. “He seems like a stand-up guy.”
“He’s a worthy asset.” Luther pulls a car fob from his suit jacket and unlocks a polished sedan, then throws the fob to Chris. “Speaking of worthy assets, I thought you were going to bring your toy along?”
The hairs rise on the back of my neck. Every nerve stands at attention. “She’s not worth the frustration. I’m growing tired of her struggle.”
“That’s a shame. It’s been a while since I enjoyed the thrill of breaking in a newbie.” He opens the rear driver’s side door. “Luca, you can sit in the front with Chris while I talk with my son in the back.”
I follow my father’s lead as we climb into the luxury car and make our way onto the narrow streets.
Luther fills the drive with idle chitchat. We discuss my sisters and niece. For a few brief moments, we skim over Richard’s funeral and the upkeep of the burial plot. Then the conversation switches to my half-brother and the twinkle in Luther’s eye irks me in a way I can’t describe.
It isn’t jealousy. My father could have a million sons and I wouldn’t give a shit.
It’s the way Tobias was created as an asset which has me questioning God’s existence.
The boy was conceived in brutality and baptized in sin. No child should have to carry those mental scars.
“You should spend some time with him while you’re here.” Luther meets my gaze. “The two of you are likely to work together in the future.”
“Not too soon I hope. Give the kid a chance to grow up.”
He laughs. “The boy is smart, and despite being shy, he’s strong. It won’t be long and he’ll be making me retire.”
“Then I look forward to getting to know him.” I bite back a curse.
That child keeps creating problems, and the complications will only grow once he’s an orphan.
It’s not like I’m parental material.
I won’t be looking after him. But he’s also family, which means one of my sisters will have to mother him—her rapist father’s illegitimate, parent-less kid.