Page 15 of Double Standards
“My parents,” I shrug. It’s partly the truth, a watered-down version of why I wanted to follow in my parent’s footsteps. My mom was an amazing lawyer, one of the best. While I never got to see her in action, my dad had told me she was a real ball-buster. She’s been my driving force, even after she passed away; I wanted to make her proud.
I’m certain divulging that much detail will probably bore the likes of Axel Bonanno, so I don’t bother to expand any further. Plus, my mind is still trying to dampen the fear and trepidation of where he’s taking me. Maybe he’s taking me somewhere secluded, so he can get rid of me before anyone knows I’m missing? Maybe he believes I’m not the lawyer he needs, and this is the only way to ensure I don’t blab. Though there’s nothing really to tell, a man’s got to protect himself, right?
I wonder if he’ll chop me up, or feed me to pigs. Maybe he’ll slit my throat and anchor me to a cinder block before dumping me in the Hudson. I’m losing my mind—and scaring myself with how my thoughts drift from one cruel detail to the next—that I don’t actually realize where we are until Axel opens the car door and holds his hand out to me.
I stare up at my building, my mouth gaping as I come to terms with the fact I’m alive—at least for one more night.
“Thisisyour building, correct?” he confirms.
I nod weakly, not at all surprised by the fact he knows where I live. But the fact I’m frozen to the spot as I peer back at him is amusing to him.
Without a word, he takes my hand and tugs me out of the car.He never takes his eyes off mine, even when I stumble on the sidewalk and he catches me effortlessly. Even when I have a dazed, confused look on my face. Even when I utterly embarrass myself with my loud thoughts.
“You’re… you’re not…” I clear my throat, searching for the words. I can’t even find the words because of how embarrassed I feel. His inquisitive gaze is making me regret ever opening my mouth. “You’re not going to make me…?”
“Make you?” he scoffs, like he knows what I’m insinuating.
Now that we’re in the light—a flickering street lamp—I can make out the tired lines etched into his face, the lack of stubble that once accentuated his sharp jaw. Maybe it’s the alcohol still swimming in my bloodstream, but I have to force myself not to stroke his face.
Holding me against him, I feel his grip tighten around my waist. The tension between us is palpable, making my mouth dry.Or maybe that’s the alcohol.Either way, as soon as I feel it, it dissipates because Axel lets go of me and his expression is masked into indifference.
“Trust me, Cassie. I won’t be making you doanythingyou don’t want to do.”
Chapter Six
The loud bass vibrating through the speakers rattles the walls of The Ravenite. Thrusting through to the second floor, I can feel the intensity in every step, the whisky in my glass rippling against the confines.
Apparently, we’re celebrating my release, though it doesn’t feel like much of a celebration just yet. Hunter has hired dancers, though I’m questioning where from because one looks like she’s one sniff away from her head rolling off her shoulders. Another is so into her dancing that I think she’s forgotten what she’s even here for. It’s no secret that Hunter looks after his staff, but he also has a penchant for drugs.
It’s his business after all, and I don’t fight him on it. His clubs do well, portraying a perfectly legal business, while laundering money through them. At the end of the day, we all have to make our money somehow and as long as The Five remain afloat, I won’t question his choices.
After saying goodnight to Cassie, I needed to figure out my next steps. I know the guys have my back, which is why we need a strategy and fast. Someone is out to get me and I need to find out who. The Five will always be a target, especially to the authorities, but nobody has gotten as far as slamming one of usin a jail cell. Whoever is behind this must have had some pretty damning evidence to get me behind bars— but not damning enough.
“Hi,” a perky blonde with unnatural tits and plump lips perches on my lap. “My name’s Chantelle.”
I sink back my drink, the ice clinking against the rim. As much as I appreciate the view, she’s not the blonde I have in mind when it comes to entertainment. “Not tonight, Chantelle.”
With a pout, the woman flicks her hair over her shoulder, narrowly missing my face before heading out onto the dance floor. Women pour all over each other, their bodies grinding against one another. Usually The Ravenite would be heaving with patrons but since Hunter loves to flaunt his power, he closed down his club for the evening. The only people he’s allowed into the venue are us and the dancers he pays generously to flirt and parade around in skimpy outfits.
But none of that gets my blood pumping, not since my eyes landed on Cassie two days ago. I’m still trying to figure her out, because usually I’m a great judge of character. But she’s something else. One minute she’s cowering and the next she’s scolding me for not having a fucking witness to corroborate my story.
Sure, I could pay someone to be my lacky—I have enough of them at my disposal—but this is about principle and proving how much the city needs the likes of us.
“You’re saying no?” Hunter accuses, surprise written all over his face.
I smirk back at him because, yes, I rarely turn down a good fuck. But recently, my mind has been distracted by other things. Like finding out who the fuck is out to get me. We have enemies all over the city, it’s a given, but someone has some fucking balls to come after me and frame me for murder. “I’m saying, not tonight,” I smirk. “I’d rather find out who thinks they can try to take me down.”
“And who wanted the Mayor dead and why?” Trigger adds.
I rest my head back on the couch, closing my eyes. “That too,” I grumble. The Mayor was obviously a good asset to have. We paid him well to keep our businesses off of the NYPD desks. The amount of close calls we’ve had, it’s always handy to have people high up in the government to handle our shit. Now we’re going to have to start again, because whoever the next candidate is, you can bet we’ll be pulling the puppet strings.
“So,” Hunter grins as he sinks into the seat beside me. “Cassidy Caruthers,” he muses. Hunter has always been the jester of group. He’s a few years younger than me, and it fucking shows. But don’t let that fool you, the guy is business savvy and quick thinking. He knows almost everything that goes on in the city, and if he doesn’t, you can bet your ass one of us does.
“You’ve heard of her?” I ask boredly, taking a sip of my whiskey.
“Who hasn’t?” he scoffs. “That woman was born for the courtroom.”
My brows raise in suspicion. He’s not the type to look at the same woman twice, but the way he talks about Cassie so admirably has me questioning him silently.
