I don’t know whether I did it intentionally, or if it was some kind of coincidence, but I shot Wynter in exactly the same place as I had been shot, and now we have matching scars. It’s been a week since we both had bullets pulled from our bodies, but we’re both healing well despite my insistence that Wynter not move a muscle so as not to slow the healing process.
She’s a little sick of how overbearing I’m being but she needs to understand the guilt that ravages me every time I see the bandage wrapped around her torso. I did that. I shot her. I scarred her. And no matter what I do, I can’t let it go.
Today is the first day I’ve allowed her to get dressed in something other than my shirts, and it’s only because we’re leaving the house, despite my insistence that we let the rest of the family take care of this particular task.
Wynter holds my hand tighter than normal in the quiet car, none of us have much to say about the outing, and our usually happy family all seem a little dimmer today. I guess it’s not every day you speak terms with the enemy.
Despite my better judgment, we let Elijah go that night once we got confirmation his father and uncles were dead, along with most of their operation. Storm said it’s bad for business not to have any competition, and it makes us a target, which I guess he’s not totally wrong about. But still, allowing any member of my bloodline to live is against my nature.
When Elijah mentioned Aces being an ideal place to hold this meeting, I was a little surprised. After all, this is where his whole family died, but who am I to argue?
I help Wynter out of the back of the car and nod to Storm as he hops out of the car in front of us. He may not have been injured during one of the worst nights of our lives, but he’s felt all of our pain.
My hand falls to the small of her back and I guide her through the front doors. I was surprised when Rayne told me Emerson had agreed to come here, but then again, I suppose now Angelo is no longer a threat, she’s probably not as afraid. “You okay?” I ask.
Wynter looks up at me, a smile dancing on her red-stained lips. “Yes, Mom, I’m fine.”
My eyes dart across her face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but there isn’t any. She would have been well within her rights to be traumatized after everything she went through, but the only signs that she was ever hurt fade by the day. The bruise on her cheek is almost completely gone and is easily covered with a bit of makeup. Her wrists are still red and flaky, but Doc says as long as she takes care of the wounds, they shouldn’t scar. And her bullet wound is healing even better than mine is. “Okay. If you need to leave, just say the word.”
Wynter reaches up and brushes her thumb across my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into her touch. “You worry too much. If I’m ever not okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to let me be okay when I am.”
I nod, breaking away from her touch as we near the stairs to the VIP area. “I’ll try.”
Wynter looks over her shoulder at Rayne and Emerson walking behind us and holds her hand out to her new sister, who takes it immediately, taking the support she’s offered even though she’s putting on a brave face.
The moment we step off the top step, I notice Elijah sitting in the place Angelo used to frequent. Every time I’ve ever stepped foot in this club, Angelo has been in that seat, and it’s strange to see my cousin take his place. “Are you sure about this?” I ask Storm over my shoulder.
“Yes,” he replies quickly.
My eyes move over the space, seeking any hidden guards. We agreed this was a friendly meeting, and as a sign of good faith, we left our own security outside, but that doesn’t mean we’re not prepared for an ambush.
“It’s just us,” Elijah tells us.
“Can never be too careful.” Storm steps in front of the group and takes the lead to the booth, sliding in beside Elijah. I can see what he’s doing even without him having to say it. He’s putting his body between him and the rest of us, whether or not he’s aware of the move may be another story.
Emerson’s face drains of color as her eyes dart over the booth that holds some of the worst memories of her life. Rayne wraps his arm around her shoulder and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before guiding her to sit down as far away from the only Russo at the table as possible.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” Elijah says.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it all went down the way it did.” Storm smiles sympathetically.
“I’m not.” Elijah shrugs. “My father and uncles were idiots. I’m glad they’re gone.”
The booth falls quiet and we all stare at him as we wait for a but. There has to be a but. Except, one doesn’t come, instead he continues. “They were greedy. The only reason you ever deal in human beings is greed. I tried to explain to them that we could make more money without it, and save ourselves a whole load of drama, but what would I know?” He rolls his eyes.
“Wait.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “Let me get this straight, you wanted your whole family dead?”
“Not my whole family.” He chuckles. “You’re still here, aren’t you? But yes, I’m glad they’re gone. After Wynter shot me, I could have overpowered her, quite easily in fact, but I had a better chance of things playing out just like this if I didn’t.”
“And there I was thinking it was because I’m such a good shot,” Wynter deadpans.
Elijah tips his head back, a laugh filling the booth before he looks around the circle, his eyes narrowing as they brush over Snow. She hasn’t said a word since we got here, which doesn’t surprise me seeing as Storm told her to keep her mouth shut unless spoken to. “I see why you like this one, Everett. She has such fire.”
I growl, the noise primal and possessive just like my need for Wynter, but it only seems to make him laugh more. Storm shoots me a glare and I sit back in my seat, wrapping my arm around my woman and holding her against me.
“What is it that we can do for you, Elijah?” Storm asks.
“I’d like to take over my family’s business, but without the competition. You take your territory, I’ll take mine, and we’ll mind our own business. I will agree to your terms around what I can and cannot deal in, and if someone were to ever challenge either of our power, the other would step in and stand beside that party.”
“Like an alliance?” Storm’s brow quirks up like he’s not quite sure what to make of my cousin’s proposal. That makes two of us.
“Exactly!” Elijah exclaims, his arms opening excitedly. “You probably think this is some kind of trap, but I’ve given this a lot of thought, even before the hit. I’ve been toying with the idea of taking the idiots out for a few years, and so I’ve been considering my options. Being a one-man operation isn’t ideal. It leaves me open and vulnerable and without a succession plan. An alliance means that if something were to happen to me, my territory wouldn’t default to whoever takes me out, it would default to you.”
Storm sucks in a breath and his eyes meet mine. We’ve been friends for long enough we can almost communicate without words, but all he wants to know is if I think this is a trap, and honestly, I haven’t quite worked that out for myself yet. If anyone were crafty enough to pull it off, it’s definitely Elijah, but he seems almost excited by the prospect. I give a small nod, and Storm turns back to my cousin, taking him in for a moment before a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Tentatively, we have a deal. I’d like to have another meeting, perhaps at Frost about what you’re proposing to do to make money, but I think this arrangement could be mutually beneficial.”
