Treachery

Leaning against a wall, I cross my arms over my chest, staring at eight jackasses I call brothers. No, we’re not related by blood, excluding the twins, but we are related by circumstance and the bullshit we endured growing up.

Across the room, Gabriel is standing in his usual position by the bar, a scotch in hand, his careful expression mirroring the exact thoughts that have been ru

Something we don’t know is going on.

Something beyond our games.

And something I don’t fucking appreciate.

Lounging on one couch are Jase, Sawyer and Ezra. On another, Damon and Shane look like they still haven’t recovered from their bar brawl last night.

Taylor leans against another wall, and Mason is the only guy not in the room, but only because we asked him to keep the girls from wandering in here. He didn’t object to the babysitting gig, not with Ava still upset about how she was attacked by the intruder.

I have every intention of finding out who that intruder was, which is why I called this family meeting.

“We’ve got a fucking problem,” I a

“That’s a lot of fucking,” Sawyer jokes, my eyes snapping to pin him in place.

“Fuck off,” I say as I push away from the wall and start pacing the floor.

He laughs, and I want to deck the son of a bitch. First, because he touched Luca. And second, because he’s high as a kite right now, which means he won’t take this conversation seriously.

“My point is that someone is either trying to kill Luca or wants something from her that we want as well. I don’t like it.”

Gabriel swallows the last of his drink, ice clinking in his glass as his eyes meet mine across the room. It’s not like him to be so quiet, but I suspect it’s because he’s as pissed off as I am.

When Gabriel gets quiet, shit goes down. Which is fine by me. It means he’s on the same page. We just need to get the rest of these assholes on board to finish this crap with the people I suspect are fucking up my game.

“I think our fathers are screwing with us,” I explain. “I think they might have figured out I’m after whatever the fuck it is Luca has on them. And we need to finish this shit so we can get our hands on it first.”

Shane swivels his head to stare at me, his eyes glassy and bloodshot, half his face bruised, and the stink coming off him from the liquor seeping out his pores enough to ignite my gag reflex.

It’s why most of us are on one side of the room while Shane and Damon are on the other. I should toss both their asses in a shower.

“It’s not our fault you’ve failed with Luca and have yet to convince her to hand over the servers. How long has this shit been going on? Four years? It’s getting boring.”

I stare at the asshole who failed to do his job and almost got Luca killed in the process.

“Who the fuck are you to talk? I gave you one fucking job. Disable her car. And your lazy ass thought it was enough to kill her battery. So fuck you very much for that.”

Shane’s brows go up as much as they can with the facial swelling.

“I did my job. Her car is out of commission.”

“Only because a tatted-up grease monkey wrecked the fucking thing when he was driving it to a shop. I still don’t know if the asshole is just a shitty driver, or if someone cut her brakes.”

“Hey, asshole! Newsflash,” Shane argues, “that was me taking care of the car.”

Anger drives down my spine, my teeth slamming together as my body goes rigid.

“You cut her fucking brakes?”

He straightens his posture and glares at me.

“Why is it you never pay attention to what’s going on in my life? I’m getting the feeling lately that all you care about is-“

“Cut the shit, Shane. I don’t have time for a heart to heart, emotional conversation. If you need to talk about your feelings and wipe your tears, call Oprah. Maybe you can get some brand suggestions for the fucking tampons you’ll need since you’ve apparently grown a pussy.”

“My point,” he growls, his hands fisting like he’s two seconds away from attacking me, “is that you should have recognized that tatted-up grease monkey since Priest works with me on all my custom builds. How did you not fucking know that? He’s been at every party we’ve thrown over the last two years.”

I stop in place, my eyes narrowing on him. Obviously, I have no idea who the fuck Priest is because I don’t pay attention to people. Not unless I need something from them.

“So when you say you took care of the car-“

“It means I killed her battery, sent Priest her direction since his shop is right fucking there, and told him to put it completely out of commission once he got it to the shop where he would have access to the engine. I didn’t expect him to wreck it, but he did what I asked. The car is gone. Luca can’t leave the state. So fuck you very much for thinking I didn’t get the job done.”

Which means nobody cut her brakes. That’s a signature move on our fathers’ parts, and with that out of the equation, I’m knocked off course.

Thankfully, Gabriel takes up the train of thought for me.

“We still have someone who tried to run her down in the parking lot, and the person who broke into her apartment to destroy the place.”

He looks around the room.

“Before we begin ru

None of the guys speak up to take credit.

Still, I’m not entirely convinced the parking lot incident was intentional. It pisses me off that I wasn’t there to witness what happened, but I know someone who was.

“I need to talk to Priest,” I bark, my eyes sliding to Shane where he sits looking a little too upset that I’d doubted him. I don’t know if it’s the hangover or something else, but he needs to get over this girly shit because he’s scaring the hell out of me.

“You should come with me,” I tell him, “after getting a fucking shower because you smell like a garbage dump.”

“And what do we do about the guy who broke into Luca’s apartment?”

I glance over to Gabriel in response to his question, a heavy breath slowly leaking out of my lungs.

“I’ll have to talk to Luca. Find out what could have been in her apartment that somebody would want.”

Gabriel pours another drink, sets the crystal decanter down and turns to look at me.

“Her life is in danger, Ta

I agree with all of that, but what I don’t know is the point he’s trying to make.

Lifting my brows to move him along in whatever it is he wants to say, I wait impatiently for him to take a sip from his drink and swallow it down.

“What I’m saying is that you can’t afford to drag this out. Your games up until now have kept her on a leash, but you’re not the only player anymore, and we need to rush this along.”

“Okay,” I answer, still not entirely sure what the fuck he wants.

“You need to let her know her life is at risk. That our families are after her.”

No.

Not happening.

No fucking way.