Page 18 of In the Shadows

He shrugs, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as we turn toward the Scarlet Lounge, a club in neutral territory. There aren’t many places we can meet that won’t cause speculation, but at the Scarlet Lounge, anything goes. It’s where the leaders in this city meet to talk out their issues, and then they get their dick sucked by one of the pretty subs always begging to get a piece of them.

“You like her.” It’s not a question, because I don’t have to ask to know it’s the case. It’s obvious in the way he talks about her and how I’ve seen him looking at her through the cameras. Although I’ve deprived myself of being in the same room as Camilla, I haven’t been able to stop myself from watching her. Her bruising gets a little better every day, and each day she’s here, she fights the boys a little less. She knows who has her, but she also realizes there’s no escape. There’s nowhere she can go where she won’t be in danger, so she’s accepted her circumstances as they are.

There’s a beat of silence while Bishop considers his next words and considers whether he should admit to me that his feelings are deeper than a mere savior complex. “Yeah.”

I stare at his profile as I process his response. It may only be one word, but it changes everything. I already know the same is true for Kovu. The way he watches her, how he stays up late at night when the rest of the house is quiet and watches each breath she takes in her slumber, how he claimed the spot beside her on the bed just so he can touch her when she’s unconscious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so deep, which means there’s no way we’re handing the girl over to Davenport. “How’s her recovery?”

He turns to look at me for a second before turning his attention back to the road. He was expecting more questions about what he just told me, and while there are many more questions to be asked, it’s not a conversation for just the two of us. At some point, all four of us will have to sit down and work out what the hell we’re going to do with our stowaway and how we’re going to navigate the path ahead. “She’s getting better every day. Rogers is happy with how her injuries are healing, but he’d like to see her walking more to make sure her muscles don’t atrophy.”

“And yet you and Kovu are still carrying her everywhere?” I quirk up my brow. Each time one of them lifts her into their arms, I’m hit with so many emotions I can barely wade through them. I thought I stopped feeling a long time ago, but there’s something about her that turns them all back. Jealousy, pride, affection. It all slams into me at once, and by the time they lay her back out on the bed, it’s all I can do not to storm right in there and lift her into my own.

He gives me a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. He knows I’ve been watching them on the cameras, which means he realizes my interest in Camilla is more than that of a mere bargaining chip. “She’s still fragile. But I want to try taking her for a walk when we get back, see how she does, and then I’ll talk to Rogers about when she might be cleared when he visits tomorrow,” he pauses and chances another look over at me. “What are our plans once that happens?”

“I’m not sure.” That’s all I can give him right now. “After tonight, the four of us will sit down and discuss what we should do with Camilla.”

His brows pull together, but he doesn’t respond as he pulls up out the front of the Scarlet Lounge, the sex club located smack dab in the middle of neutral territory. Every leader in the city has had a night or two of debauchery here, and the owners, and by extension, us, have secrets that could bring the most ruthless men in the city to their knees.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

The valet meets Bishop as he slips from his ostentatious Lamborghini. It doesn’t come naturally to us to flaunt our wealth, but we each have something we enjoy indulging in now that we have the money to do so. Bishop likes expensive cars. New, old, it doesn’t matter as long as it has a hefty price tag, he’s there. Kovu collects weapons. Guns, knives, the occasional land mine. His collection has grown to the point we had to build him an artillery in the compound. Kaos is into comic books, although you’d never know it by looking at the big guy. He has a collection that would make every nerd on the planet weep. And I like watches. Simple. Elegant. When I was a boy, there was a jeweler in the town I grew up in, and they had a collection of watches I would visit on my way home and stare through the window. When we went from not knowing where our next meal would come from to mixing with New York’s most elite, I bought the whole jeweler and every timepiece they had.

The legitimate businesses we run around the city make us wealthy in our own right, and it’s expected that we flaunt them to a certain extent. After all, have you ever met a conservative billionaire?

Bishop meets me at the curb, and we stroll through the front doors, straight past security, and into the private meeting room Wyatt and Elias keep reserved for us. We do a lot of business here because we don’t like to spend a lot of time on any one family’s territory talking business. We live and operate in the only neutral ground in the city, the model at which we lead is as fragile today as it was the day we took control. So the Scarlet Lounge works well for us.

We’re early, as we so often are. It’s easier to control the situation when you arrive first and when you can get a security team in place before anyone else even steps foot into the building. We didn’t bring security tonight, but only because we have an understanding with the owners of the Scarlet Lounge. If shit goes down, they’re on our side, and their security knows that.

I take a seat at the head of the table, with Bishop on my right side. He is, after all, my right-hand man, and it’s important we always portray that image. Although on paper I am the leader of the Legion, it’s rare I have to exercise my power because the four of us work so seamlessly and make decisions together.

I check my watch and sigh. We have some time to kill, and there’s something burning on the tip of my tongue despite the possible fallout from the answer.

“What do you think we should do with her?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

KAOS

Ican think of a million things I’d rather be doing than babysitting Camilla De Marco. She hasn’t stopped glaring at me since I walked into the room, like she’s the only one unhappy with this little set up. Being near her is dangerous for both of us. She may have grown up as a Mafia princess, but I doubt she’s ever met anyone as cold and callous as me. I wasn’t always this way. Hell, once upon a time, I was the nice one of the four of us. But sometimes life gives you lemons you can’t make lemonade with, and I learned that lesson the hard way.

The problem is, although I know I should stay as far away from Camilla as I can manage, there’s an invisible tether that drags me to her room each day. I pretend to watch whatever bullshit she has on, but really, I’m watching the way my brothers, for all intents and purposes, interact with her. I’m watching the way her dark hair falls around her shoulders when she laughs and how sad she looks when she thinks none of us are watching. She’s addictive, and that’s why she has to go. Because if she stays, she’s going to drag all four of us down with her, and I don’t know that we’re strong enough to survive that again.

That’s why it’s been years since any of us have brought a woman here, years since we’ve shared anyone past a night at the Scarlet Lounge. It’s too risky. We almost lost everything the last time we trusted a woman, and I’ll be damned if I allow that to happen again.

“You don’t have to stay.” Camilla breaks the silence, her head turned from the TV for the first time since Bishop left.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” she snaps. “You look like someone kicked your puppy, pouting over there.”

“I don’t pout.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, buddy, but you absolutely do. I don’t know why you bother coming in here at all. You look miserable for every single second you sit in that chair.” She crosses her arms across her chest and winces at the movement. It takes everything in me to remain seated instead of making sure she’s comfortable like my body screams at me to do. “I’ll stay put until one of the others gets back. You don’t have to sit here, and if you really want to check up on me, I’m sure you have access to that.” She points to the corner where one of the three cameras in this room sits.

“I’m staying.”

She huffs out an irritated breath. “Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of an asshole?”

“Most days.” I shrug. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”

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