Page 5 of Rebels & Rejects

He grabs a file off my desk, holding it out to me. “Marcus showed me last month’s figures this morning. We doubled the previous month’s income, and have already out-earned last month.”

My grin widens at the news as I take the file and flick through it. “Fantastic. We’ll have to scout locations for an expansion soon.” Oliver gives a nod of agreement, and I know the task is in capable hands.

Having updated me, he leans back in his chair, the smile slipping off his face as it’s replaced with a more intense expression. “How are things coming along on your end?”

While Oliver has been getting the apartment block up to scratch for my men and ensuring no one thwarts our rule, I’ve been busy looking into our sworn enemies, learning everything I can about them—not that I’ve been able to learn a whole hell of a lot. The Antonellis have more people in their organization than we could ever hope to obtain, and they’re immensely more organized. Still, ultimately, my beef is with one man in particular—the head of the Antonelli family. The Don himself. The man who made the final call when it came to kidnapping my sister and destroying my family. His entire empire needs to come crumbling down, though his death will be atmyhands.

My lips flatten as I release a long sigh. “Not so well,” I admit, running a hand through my thick coal-black hair in frustration. I’ve employed some men to spy on the Antonellis, but unfortunately, it hasn’t been an easy task. The Antonelli family is well protected. The Don has an extensive security team who escort him every time he’s in the city, making it impossible for any of my men to get close to him, even to gather information. The men I’ve planted—a croupier in their casino and a bouncer at one of their sex clubs—are at the bottom of the food chain within the organization, meaning they have to gain the trust of the caporegime and prove their loyalty to the Antonellis before they can work their way up, which is a time-consuming process.

“We’re going to be waiting a while until they are in a position to undermine them or provide us with the intel we need to make any drastic moves.”

Oliver pinches his lips as he mulls over what I’m saying. “I don’t see that we have much choice for now. At least we have eyes and ears inside their operation. Let’s see what they come back with while we get ourselves established here, then we can go from there.”

With a reluctant nod of agreement, I reach down to open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out two tumblers and a bottle of the whiskey I know Oliver likes. I have to admit, he’s got me hooked on this expensive shit ever since he came back from Crescentwood. You’d think prison would have knocked that refined taste out of him, but evidently not. Pouring the amber liquid into the glasses, I hold one out to him. He takes it from my outstretched hand, and we both knock the drink back, swallowing our frustrations as the alcohol burns a path down our throats.

***

Hours later, my head is just this side of fuzzy as I sag against a couch in the half-completed bar, where a party rages around me. The surrounding noise and alcohol coursing through my system are enough to quiet the incessant voice in the back of my head telling me to move faster, fight harder, be better, and every time the voice starts up again, I just down another glass of whiskey.

I refocus my gaze on the skinny blonde grinding her ass against my dick as she moves to the music.Fuck, yes.This is exactly the stress reliever I needed. My head falls back against the sofa, my eyes drifting shut as she moves to crouch between my legs, her nimble hands making quick work of my belt, and I groan as she sucks me into her mouth.

In a blissed-out daze, I tilt my head to the side, watching as another girl rubs herself all over Oliver. He’s staring at his phone with a ridiculous amount of intensity, making a very clear point of ignoring the girl without downright telling her to fuck off.

“Dude.” The word isn’t much more than a grunt as the blonde sucks me deeper into her mouth. “Chill the fuck out. Let her blow you. You’ll feel so much better for it.”

He lifts his head to scowl at me before casting a quick glance at the girl between my legs. His scowl shifts to a frown before he focuses back on his phone.

Whatever, his loss.Shaking my head, I look away from him, choosing to watch the hottie as she sucks and slurps at my dick like it’s her favorite flavor of ice cream. If Oliver wants to walk around with all that tension, then so be it. Personally, I prefer to offload it whenever I can.

Later that night, I’m lying in my bed with my arm bent, my hand behind my head as I stare up at the ceiling. My buzz from earlier has worn off, and the sniping voices have returned, preventing me from getting a restful night’s sleep.

I run my hand down the front of my face, groaning. With every passing day, I’m getting increasingly agitated as next to no progress is made. It’s become impossible for me to think about anything other than my goal. It’s become an obsession, one that haunts me and refuses to let me have one single moment to myself. Fighting, drinking, and fucking no longer hold the same appeal they once did. No matter how hard I try to drown out the thoughts, guilt gnaws on my insides, mixed with anger, and the memory of deep green eyes that assault me as I slip into the past.

“Cain! CAIN!” The sound of my sister’s screams reaches me in the silence between rounds of gunfire. The fear in her voice has me looking out from where I’m hiding in a ditch underneath the side of the house as she is hoisted into some asshole’s arms.

Another round of gunshots go off, and wooden fragments spray down around me as the bullets imbed themselves somewhere in the boards above my hiding place. I look around our small yard frantically searching for help. But no one is around. Everyone disappeared as soon as the sound of the first gun going off echoed around our usually quiet street. I can’t even see any signs of Beck or Oliver, but they must be hiding nearby. The four of us were hanging out on the front porch steps when we heard the squeal of tires that preceded whatever’s happening right now.

My sister emits another terrified scream, and I whip my head back to look at her. She’s writhing and squirming in the asshole’s arms, but he doesn’t let her go as he drags her toward the pavement and the cars abandoned in the middle of the street. Digging my toes into the dirt beneath me, I wriggle out from beneath the house to go to her aid. The other men, all of whom are dressed sharply in black suits that seem in complete contrast to the devastation they are leaving in their wake, have lowered their automatic rifles to their sides and turned to follow the man carrying my sister back to the car.

The second I’m free, I jump to my feet and rush toward her. She sees me and struggles more frantically to get free, clawing the man’s arm and screaming bloody murder. Tears stream down her face as she kicks and twists in his hold, but if anything, he only grips her tighter as she thrashes against him. None of them pay her any attention, but one of them must spot me running their way out of the corner of his eye as he turns to face me, lifting his gun. I don’t even register the significance of the action, or maybe I just don’t care. I’d happily die if it saved my sister from these monsters.

I barely spare the man pointing the gun at me any attention, my focus too intent on my sister as I push myself faster across the dried grass in an attempt to reach her. Her glassy eyes, sheening with tears, widen as the scene unfolds, and she freezes in the man’s arms as his comrade’s gun comes level with my chest. I hear the pow-pow-pow of bullets firing rapidly within seconds after someone tackles me from behind, taking me to the ground and knocking the air out of my lungs. Whoever it is probably just saved my life, except I can’t find it in me to even look at them—never mind, thank them—as my sister is thrown into the back of one of the cars.

Shaking off whoever it is, I push to my feet once again as the car door is slammed shut, blocking my view of her tear-stained face as her screams for help are cut off. Before I can even reach the sidewalk, the car speeds off down the street. I can’t do anything aside from watch as it disappears around a corner, and my heart crumbles to dust in my chest. The other cars parked in the street take off, and in slow motion, still not able to comprehend the reality of what is happening, I turn my stunned gaze to the last one as the man who just tried to kill me climbs into the front passenger seat. He turns at the last second, and I see the details I missed earlier—the tattoos on his fingers and the row of X’s running like a line of tears down one cheek. His neatly trimmed russet-brown hair is styled back, and the corner of his lip hooks up in a malicious grin when he catches me watching him.

“Payment for your daddy’s sins, kid. Next time tell him not to fuck with the Antonellis.”

The car door closes behind him, and I watch helplessly as the car speeds down the road and out of sight. The street appears abnormally quiet in the aftermath of the chaos, and I’m not sure how long I stand there for, watching the spot where the cars disappeared as if the one carrying my sister might turn around and come back, deliver her back to me safe and sound.

I’m faintly aware of two people moving to stand beside me, their shoulders brushing against mine. My best friends. I can feel their devastation as potently as my own, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the end of the street. All the while I stand there, I can feel that newly vacated space in my chest where my heart once resided, filling with something dark and menacing. It floods into my bloodstream and whispers sweet promises of revenge in my ears until the only reason my heart still beats; my lungs still expand; my legs still hold me upright, is to save Evie and gut the motherfucking assholes who took her.

A snort of disgust rips from between my lips as I shake off memories of that day. What a foolish, naive child I was then, making promises I could never keep. I could make my sister all the promises in the world, but I had no means by which to follow through with them.

I’m eleven years too late, and Evie is long gone by now, but revenge still beats a rhythm in my chest. It’s ingrained in my every move, every action, every thought. It’s the sole reason for my continued existence.

I might be too late to save you, Evie, but I will not let your kidnappers go unpunished.

Chapter 3

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