Page 40 of Vicious Hearts

He presses a firm finger into my chest as I try to walk past him, holding me back.

“Don’t fuck this up, man,” he tells me. “We’ve come this far; don’t let stupidity cloud your judgement.”

Attila is always the voice of reason, and he is especially now when I can’t see past my newly found emotions. I’ve never had to worry about losing someone or falling victim to my own feelings, but Ariadne’s changed the way I see things and how I feel about them. I’m not a rational man when it comes to her.

I step away from his finger, shooting him a hard look for challenging me, then step back into my office, walking slowly toward the desk. I rap my knuckles on the desk in frustration for feeling so helpless.

“We’ll get her back,” Attila whispers. But to me, it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than convince me.

* * *

The slammingof car doors alerts me to intruders. My head shoots up; it’s already morning, but my body has caught the memo, because it aches and creaks from its position in the chair behind my desk. I realize I must have fallen asleep at some point in the early morning. My eye catches movement, and I spy Attila at the window, before he turns my way and holds his hand out in a ‘steady steady’ motion. My gaze goes to the window, where half a dozen cars have come to a stop, the occupants surrounded by my security. The Hondurans.

I watch as their leader has a conversation with one of my guards, even while he has a machine gun pointed at his chest.

“Easy,” Attila warns me, as we walk to the front door, and I ask my men to stand down.

I brush my hair back with my hand before I take the stairs one at a time until I’m standing in the circular driveway facing a semi-circle of men who’ve graced our presence.

“Marden,” I greet the leader, my voice set in a hard tone. We’ve always had mutual interests and a healthy respect for one another, but I can’t say I’m not pissed that he won’t allow me to hurt The Jekyll. I don’t understand it and I don’t like it.

“We have an understanding,” he says, confirming our arrangement.

“We do,” I bite out, though every word works to pierce my very soul.

Marden regards me for the longest time, as though seeking to find the truth in my confirmation. He knows I’m a man of my word, but he needs a guarantee. The Jekyll must be important to him, for whatever unknown reason. He’s a man not much younger than I am, and I must admit I respect the hell out of his work ethic, which very closely mirrors my own.

He looks over his shoulder toward one of the cars and gives a short nod, a direction, to someone I can’t see under the layers of film tinting the glass. The driver’s side door opens, and a hulking man steps out of the car and walks toward the rear passenger door. I recognize him almost instantly, and start to take a step forward before Marden holds his hand out and tells me to stay where I am.

The Jekyll opens the rear passenger door and reaches in, and out of the corner of my eyes, I see Attila’s hand resting on the gun at his side, readying himself for any trouble we may have.

When his body emerges from the car, Ariadne is with him; he pulls her out gently and sets her on the ground, turning her until she faces the house and recognizes where she is. Her face is tired, one eye swollen, her hair matted to her head. She is wearing simple black pants and a dark t-shirt that hangs loosely off her.

My hands clench and unclench at my side as my anger fuels me. The Jekyll takes her arm and walks her toward us, and even though he is gentle in the way he touches her, I don’t want his hands on her.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her,” I roar, shoving past Marden and hurrying to Ariadne. It takes everything in me not to hit him, but I shoulder The Jekyll out of the way and lift Ariadne into my arms, carrying her the rest of the way toward the house and up the stairs to the living room, where I set her down on a couch and call Maria to tend to her injuries while we wait for the doctor to arrive.

When I storm back outside, Attila is having a conversation with Marden and The Jekyll, his own rage barely contained. There’s unfinished business between us, and even though I may not be able to hurt him physically, at least I can cut The Jekyll down at the knees with my promise that I will one day destroy him as he destroyed Ariadne.

“Five million dollars,” I spit. “Was it worth it? Did you even know who you were dealing with?”

I stop short of The Jekyll, my body up against his as we go head-to-head. He says nothing but sets heavy lidded eyes on me. He is bigger than I, and I’m big. But what I lack in stature, I make up for in strength and power and every possible resource I could ever want at my disposal.

It’s Marden who speaks up, and I wonder why The Jekyll doesn’t say a word. There’s not a flicker of emotion coming from him, no matter what I say. It’s like he’s dead inside, a dead heart and a dead soul that have vacated this life.

“We had a deal,” Marden reminds me.

“We did,” I agree. “But he messed with the wrong person.”

37

ATTILA

Caleph is understandably angry. It takes every ounce of strength I have to stop him from lunging at The Jekyll’s throat and causing a massacre. The only saving grace is he listens when I tell him that Ariadne needs him now and he should be inside. I assure him I’ll take care of the situation and urge him to escort the doctor inside before the situation gets out of hand.

I’ve known Marden for years, both on a personal and professional level, and we’ve never had reason to go up against each other. He’s always been ethical, considerate and fair in all our dealings. The fact that he is defending what The Jekyll has done tells me I’m missing something.

“I do need a word before I leave,” Marden says, flicking his eyes to the guards standing but a few feet away. He’s already sent his own men to wait in their cars and now it’s just him, The Jekyll and me standing in the circular driveway, surrounded by our own guards.

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