Page 28 of Tortured Eyes
“What, Mother? Closer?” I sneer and look her over again, trying to keep my temper in check. Maybe she should have thought of that when her husband kicked me out of my own home for daring to have a fucking opinion. “I’m here. That’s all you’re both getting. And now I’m leaving to do what needs doing.” She starts crying, part of her still trying to reach for me and the other knowing she hasn’t got a fucking hope in Hell.
"Stay, please."No.
“Take Gabby upstairs. Look after her.”
I start walking towards the hall, bypassing her and focusing on the job I’ve got to do. That’s all this is now. It’s focused revenge and days of, as my father said, fucking torturous intent. Both of them. All fucking day. All fucking night. Until eventually, Nate’s body being cold and dead and six feet under will have some meaning.
The second I’m in my car, I floor it back to the apartment, my mind formulating a plan rather than the chaos I was in when I left. Carter was right; I did need to get my head straight. It is now. The vision of my father weeping, his tears actually running down his face, has solidified my need for retaliation, increased it even.
I’ll need to transfer them somewhere quieter, somewhere no one’s gonna hear their screams. Carter. Enjoy himself? It’s been a long damn time since Carter’s attempted to enjoy himself in this world. My eyes narrow, hands turning the wheel into the parking bay. He needs to either be on board or gone. I can’t have his fucking civility interrupting me with the shit that’s coming.
I slam the car door and wander to the elevator, looking at myself the entire way up through the floors. My eyes are red, swollen that way by fucking tears and a grief that hasn’t even begun to build yet. This bitch is going to feel me all over her for days. Not like she can damn well say no now, is it? She’s gonna ache and scream and yell for it to stop, all the time with my dick in every fucking hole she’s got. Might even gouge her out some new ones. And Carter? Well, we are either a team in this or he goes home and helps with the funeral. I don’t even fucking care, but one way or another, he needs to make a decision and leave that civility for anyone but those who don’t deserve it.
Five strides into my apartment and I have my answer staring me right in the face. He’s outside the bedroom door, his hands braced on the surrounding frame as if stopping himself going in. I smirk and amble up behind him, my hand reaching for some booze on the way past.
“You ready to come off that fucking leash now?” I muse, taking a swig from the bottle.
His head tips over his shoulder to look at me, eyes like fucking daggers throwing all kinds of memories my way. I scowl and drink again, remembering all the times he showed me what to do, how to cause the most pain quickly to avoid problems coming for my ass. Or how to prolong the agony when necessary. It was even him who showed me the knock-out punch, the same one that floored this bitch earlier. “Father says he’ll deal with your wife while you’re away. Says to enjoy yourself.”
He nods and backs away a step, snatching the drink from my hand and tipping it up to his mouth
I lift the phone to my ear and call some of the guys, giving them instructions to get Emilio back to my house, then call Anita to tell her to leave, take a fucking vacation. The basement rooms can be used, and there’s enough distance around the property that they can both scream for a fucking eternity, and still, no one would hear their pleas. Carter paces, enough so that I chuckle at the sight of it. Seems like big brother just got a reason to be a cunt again.
“I looked up to you when you were like this,” I murmur, watching him. “Shame you turned into a useless asshole.” No response. Not even a glance my way. He just stares out of the window, placing his hands in his pockets as if he’s trying to contain himself. Fuck that. I don’t want him contained. I want him exactly the way he used to be—full-on, threatening as fuck, and bigger than any Cane has ever been. “Vico thought you were a dick. Still a correct analysis from what I can see.”
The speed of him rushing at me, and his fist smashing into my jaw, makes me reel a hand to the wall to brace myself. I chuckle, spitting out the trickle of blood, and then get right up in his face again. Fuck him. Any other time and this would go on with no fucking end in sight. I’m a damn sight bigger than the last time we tried this, and a damn sight crazier for Vico’s influence. One hard shove into his chest pushes him backwards, proving my point. There is no decency in me anymore. No fucking civility or shame. I take what I want and enjoy the aftermath I leave in my wake, including him if he's not damn careful.
Still, I rub at the sting of the punch and look him over, watching all those aggressive lines come back into play. “Good boy,” I mutter, still half chuckling. “That’s the guy we need. You bring him out to play for some fun and we'll get along just fine.”
“Fuck you, Logan.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Later.
For now, we’re both Cane. And both fucking pissed.
