Page 20 of Vengeful Eyes
Movement from the building snaps my attention, and I watch Benjamin emerge onto the street. His silhouette is harsh as he strides out. Gone is the man from a few hours ago, attempting his version of normal on a date. Of course, normal to Benjamin is anything but. Who has a date in the New York Library? He is a man of opposing sides, and I’m seeing more and more of the man behind the Vico name. It’s that side of him that holds the piece of my heart.
He wrenches open the door and leans in. “Where’s Torino?”
“I don’t know, boss. You were with Hope tonight so guess he’s off.” Luca’s words sound panicked.
“Find him. Fuck. Find everyone.”
“Tony?” I ask, already knowing that it can’t be good if Benjamin is this wild. “Dead?” He nods.
“Don’t fucking move, Hope. Not an inch.” His eyes bore into mine, and I see, perhaps for the first time, a glimmer of fear.
I nod. Now, more than ever, he needs my obedience. I pull out my phone and fire off a message to Torino myself, as Benjamin slams the car door like it’s the cause of his pain. He hovers in the road for a second before spinning back to the car and looking at Luca.
“I need you with me,” he snaps at him, glancing back at me. “You stay the fuck down until we get back, Hope.” I nod again and sink into the seat, hiding behind the blacked-out windows.
Luca exits and they both rush back over the street towards the building's entrance, Benjamin yelling at the person unfortunate enough to be on the end of the phone call he’s made.
Tony has been by his side for as long as I’ve known him, much longer given how close they were. He and Torino are two of the people closest to Benjamin, and Torino only because of me.
On rare occasions, I’ve been introduced to Tony’s wife. My heart aches for the news she’s going to receive and wonder what my reaction would be if that news was ever delivered to me. It’s a humbling thought, as I know, if I’m honest with myself, I’d be devastated—another complication on the list for today alone.
As my mind and heart picture the worst, I see a car crawl past our parked car. It blocks my view for a moment before inching past. A Japanese woman looks on from her backseat vantage, far too interested in what’s going on for my liking. There’s no evidence on the outside. No bodies strewn over the street, no emergency services, so why is she so interested?
The Yakuza name pops into my head. I stare at the car, all my blood suddenly rushing in my veins as logic drops. This wasn’t to do with Cane at all. It's them. The car continues to creep past. Before it’s down the block, I glance back at the building, thankfully unable to see Benjamin or Luca, and sling my purse over my shoulder to open the door to the sidewalk. It’s a ridiculous long shot. Not even a chance really, but I need to bring my head back to the original objective. Not get distracted by dates and libraries. Or love.
I’ve grown so accustomed to three-inch heels that power walking to catch the car doesn’t trouble me. Each stamp of my heel echoes around me in time with the thud of my heart, keeping me grounded to my goal as I move towards my target. The car slows to make a left turn at the end of the block, and I rush to follow, undeterred by the concern of being seen by them.
In some attempt to be inconspicuous, I stop at the corner and peer around. The car has pulled up to the curb. A man, who doesn’t look Japanese, leans on the car roof, talking through the window. I grab my phone from my pocket and take a photo, ensuring the number plate is legible. Then I stride confidently forward and walk right up to them, my ears straining for any snip of information.
“He wasn’t, but he’ll get the message.”
“And Cane?”
“Nothing.”
I keep my eyes downcast as I pass, slowing my pace once I’m clear. The woman had an accent; so did the man, but he was American, although his features were Hispanic.
The rev of an engine makes me turn, and I see the black Merc pull away and speed past me. As I watch, my eyes are drawn to the man still waiting on the sidewalk. He sees me, and we stare for a moment before I turn and pick up my pace, unfortunately in the wrong direction. Heavy footsteps begin to sound between the buildings after me, but I don’t turn around.
“Hey, wait.”
I ignore the call and dive around the next building, waiting for him to pass.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he coddles, catching up with me. I spin on him, racking my brains for the self-defence lessons Torino made me go through. The thought of taking my heels off isn't a happy one, but I will if I must.
“Really? Following a girl down a dark street. Not creepy at all.” I pull out the small can of mace in my bag, aiming it forward.
“You’re the one snooping,” he says, looking at the mace with a smile. Asshole. “You’re an optimist. I’m pleased.” I size him up—casual appearance, no gang tattoos showing, but he appears entirely too confident and the smile he’s giving me is nothing but charm.
“Enough with the charm. I’d rather you spoke that name I'm interested in again. I want to know what your business is with Cane?” The smile dies on his face at the mention of Cane, and his stance shifts so I can see the bulge of the gun on his hip.
“And what’s a pretty girl like you want with Cane, huh? You one of their girls? You work for them?” He steps into my space, agitated and aggressive.
“Far from it. I have a personal connection to them, yes, but I’d never work with the Canes.”
He scratches his goatee and considers me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Benjamin, it’s to hold your ground. So I do. I don’t give an inch or betray my pounding heart. After all, dark allies and dirty men aren’t new to me.
As he assesses me, my phone vibrates in my bag. It could be one of several people, but I pray it isn’t Benjamin. He’ll find out eventually, but I need to buy more time.
