KENNEDY
The fog the pain medication creates in my brain dissipates a little easier this time, but it still takes me a second to get my bearings.
Soft sheets.
A pillowy mattress.
That damn ocean-crisp scent I’ve come to associate with Cass and guilt.
The click of computer keys fills my ears, and I open my eyes and turn my head, peeking over my shoulder toward the other side of the bed. Cass sits against the headboard, laptop across his legs, pen in his mouth with a stack of papers between us, staring intently at something on the screen. I shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, and he glances over at me.
His eyes widen slightly, and he pulls the pen from between his teeth. “Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I raise my good arm to stretch and try to pop out some of the tension in my shoulders and back, but it only ends up pulling at the stitches from surgery in my bad arm and making it hurt again. Cringing, I shake my head. “No. How long was I out?”
He looks down at the clock on his computer. “About five hours since I brought you lunch.”
“Really?”
His head bobs. “That pain medication really knocks you out.”
I nod slowly as I struggle to push myself up into a seated position. He sets down his computer and reaches over to help me, but I hold up my good hand, stopping him.
“No, I can do it.”
He gives me a little half smirk. “So damn stubborn.”
Scowling, I settle against the plush fabric headboard. “You basically hand fed me a sandwich for lunch like I was a child.”
His low chuckle shakes the bed. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m used to having to hover over a toddler to make sure she actually eats, but you need something in your stomach, or that medicine’s going to make you sick.”
“I know.” I shove a hand through my oily hair and groan at how disgusting it is. “Gross.”
Other than the sponge bath and hair wash the first day in the hospital to remove any blood from me, I’ve been basically living in my own filth. For someone who usually ends up showering twice a day—once in the morning before work and once in the evening after a good workout or sparring session—I can’t ever remember feeling so dirty.
Cass narrows his eyes on me, trying to assess me without poking at me in a way that will make me lash out at him again. I’ve been on such a razor’s edge. It’s no wonder he looks at me with such trepidation. “Can I get you anything?”
My eyes drift over his stack of papers and laptop. “Have you been here the whole time?”
His brows wing up. “Of course.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like it should be obvious that he would stay by my side and do his work here. Thinking about him sitting in bed, working for hours, watching me sleep, checking on me, and keeping me company makes me shift and look away.
“You don’t need to do that, you know?”
The man who has made me dance along that thin line between love and hate so carefully grasps my chin and turns my face back to his. “Yes, I do.” His jaw hardens as his eyes drift to my arm in the sling. He focuses on it for far too long, like he’s lost in his own thoughts and isn’t even seeing it. “I don’t like seeing you like this, Kennedy.” He looks up at me, finally meeting my gaze again. “This is what I was trying to avoid—you getting hurt, me getting caught in the middle of it.”
The pain in his eyes when I talked to him at the hospital comes racing back.
You accused him of doing this…
A different kind of guilt settles over me, so much worse than what I’ve felt over what I’ve done with Cass.
“I know you didn’t know about the shooting.” I sigh slightly because he won’t like the second part of what I need to say. “I don’t necessarily believe that Falco wasn’t involved in all this, but I do think that if they were, they did it without you knowing about it. You would have warned me, tried to stop it.”
His shoulders relax slightly, like a weight he’s carrying around since I accused him back in the ER has just lifted, and he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger there for far too long.
The buzz between us only grows the longer his warm breath flutters over my skin, until he finally pulls back and climbs to his feet on the side of the bed, stretching his arms high above his head. The motion pulls up the hem of his T-shirt, exposing his hard abs and that smooth skin my hands still itch to glide over.
Why does he have to be so damn hot?
It almost makes me hate him more. But even with all the animosity between us and my inability to fully trust him because of his loyalty to his client, I do believe he wouldn’t have let this happen. If for no other reason than he wants to protect his daughter and knows the Hawkes would come after him for the attack.
“Where’s Charlotte?”
He rubs the back of his neck and motions toward the closed bedroom door. “Abby’s with her. She got home from school a couple of hours ago and just had dinner. Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Even though I need to eat so the meds don’t destroy my stomach, my appetite hasn’t returned. And maybe it won’t.
It’s hard to eat and go on like things are okay when Uncle Stone is still unconscious in the hospital, and we still have no idea why any of this happened. The last I heard before Cass kidnapped me, the police had zero clues that weren’t destroyed when the car the shooters used was torched. Even using surveillance cameras to try to track it and catch any of them on video failed. Whoever did this knew how to avoid getting caught.
Which is even more terrifying.
Cass watches me intently for a moment, like he’s about to argue and force me to eat again. He’s slipped right back into “dad mode,” taking care of me like he does Charlotte.
Before he can, I motion to his computer and papers. “I don’t want you ignoring your daughter to be up here and take care of me.”
He barks out a laugh. “Believe me, I’m not. She’s just fine with Abby. They’re best friends. And she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”
I stiffen slightly. “Why?”
A slow smirk pulls at his sensuous lips. “Because she made something for you at school today.”
Something tightens around my heart, that same thing that hit me the first time I met Viviana and she called me “Aunt Kennedy” even though I’m technically not her aunt.
He raises a brow. “Are you up for a visitor?”
That kid is far too inquisitive and insightful for someone who isn’t quite five yet. I can’t even imagine what she’ll be questioning me about when she comes up here. And her sweet, simple gesture of thinking of me while she was at school makes all sorts of uncomfortable feelings rage inside me.
I want to say no, but the fact that she made something for me is so damn sweet that I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. “Okay.”
He walks over to the door and tugs it open but pauses and turns back to me before he steps out. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I laugh lightly. “I haven’t done anything. I should be the one who’s thanking you.”
Cass shakes his head. “Thank you for believing I didn’t know and for trusting me to take care of you.”
Tears burn my eyes, and he steps out before I sag back against the headboard, a sudden lump forming in my throat.
For trusting him.
Do I?
My eyes automatically drift to his open computer and the papers scattered across the bed where we slept last night, where he took care of me and ensured I was all right even after I accused him of all sorts of horrible things.
The name Falco appears on the top of a massive spreadsheet filled with a list of dates, names, figures, and other things I can’t quite decipher.
I swallow thickly and lean toward it, trying to catch anything I can that might help the Hawkes or point to who is actually behind Falco, but a giggle followed by the pounding of little feet in the hallway makes me jerk back.
Charlotte barrels into the room, something flapping in her hand with her frenzied speed. She launches herself onto the bed, jostling the mattress as she lands with a bounce.
Cass is hot on her heels and scoops her up before she can climb into my lap, which appears to be her intent. “Nope, you need to stay back. I don’t want her to get hurt. No climbing on Kennedy, okay?”
The little girl scowls at him and refocuses her attention on me, holding up something bright red. “I made this for you today.”
He lets her go to allow her to climb onto the bed and hold it out to me. I reach out with my good hand and take it from her.
“Get well soon” is scrawled across the middle in almost indecipherable letters with a lopsided rainbow over it.
That same tightness returns to my chest as I stare at it, and my eyes burn again. “Thank you, I love it.”
She grins proudly. “Are you feeling better?”
Her question takes me by surprise, though I don’t know why. It’s the obvious thing for a child to ask, especially after the explanation Cass gave her this morning for me being in their home and in his bed, but answering it is a lot harder.
I take a second to take stock of my body and nod slowly. “Actually, yeah, I am a little bit.”
That dull ache still plagues my arm, and if I move it, I instantly regret it, but apparently, a good night’s sleep and napping all day was exactly what I needed to start to feel human again.
Charlotte’s smile grows. “Do you want to play Monopoly with us?”
I glance up at Cass. “Monopoly?”
He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s her favorite game.”
“Isn’t she a little young to be playing?”
Charlotte gasps. “I’m almost five.”
Cass barks out a laugh and scoops her up. “Charlotte’s the Monopoly queen. She’s kicked my ass many times. Are you up for coming downstairs and playing with us? Don’t feel obligated.”
The tiny, blond girl pleads at me with her soft-green eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fuuuuuun.”
I’ve lain in this bed for far too long already, only getting up to use the bathroom when absolutely necessary since I arrived. All my muscles itch to move. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come down for a little bit.”
It beats sitting here, sleeping, or letting my mind race with the horrible memories of what had happened.
He sets Charlotte down and motions toward the open door. “Go get the game set up while I help Kennedy.”
She rushes out, and he turns back to me, suddenly looking serious.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
I nod, and he throws back the covers and holds out his hand. A huge part of me wants to slap it away. Accepting help from anyone is hard, but from him, it’s ten times worse. But my body feels so heavy, like it doesn’t want to release itself from the grip of the mattress, so I slip my good hand into his and let him tug me up from the bed. I practically collapse into him on shaky legs.
He catches me, his arms wrapping around my waist. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but don’t pretend you’re okay, Kennedy. It’s all right not to be.”
Everyone keeps saying that…
I shake my head and fight the tears that want to come again. “No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” He brushes my hair back from my face, and I cringe, thinking about how disgusting I am right now. “Do you want to call anyone before you come down?”
I glance at the phone he gave me to call Dad and Allie. My conversations with them run through my head. Dad wasn’t happy about me disappearing, and if he had his way, he would send the damn National Guard out to find me, but I played on the fear we all have to convince him I needed to feel safe. Even if it hurt him.
Right now, I can’t handle another one of those conversations. They know I’m safe. That’s all they need to know for now.
I shake my head. “I’m afraid if I call…someone will give me bad news about Uncle Stone.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I think if there were any change, they would call you right away, wouldn’t they? You gave them that number to reach you when you called this morning, right?”
That makes me feel a little bit better—but not much.
I nod. “Yeah, I did, and you’re right. They would tell me if anything had changed—either way.”
The sympathy in Cass’ gaze almost breaks me on the spot, and he pulls me against his chest, burying his face in my hair. “He’s going to be okay, Cherie. I’ve known your uncle a long time, and he and Isaac are both stubborn as hell and have unbreakable spirits.” He pulls back and takes my face between his hands. “He won’t let this take him from everyone he loves so much.”
He says all the right words, but I can’t help the sense of dread that continues to build inside me. That even if Uncle Stone does survive this, nothing will ever be the same again.
* * *
CASS
Charlotte huffs and sits back in her chair, crossing her little arms over her chest and pouting the way only a preschooler can. “That’s not fair.”
I motion to my hotel on Boardwalk where she just landed. “I am sorry, Bebelle, but you don’t have enough money to pay me and have mortgaged all your properties, so you’re bankrupt.”
Kennedy fights a grin from across the table. “I could loan you some money—”
As sweet as it is for her to try to help Charlotte, I hold up a hand to stop her. “No, we play by the rules of the game, and if she lands on my hotel and she can’t pay the rent, then she’s out of the game.” I waggle my eyebrows playfully. “You know what they say, the person with the best properties and the most hotels usually wins.”
The humor drains from her face immediately, replaced by an angry scowl that instantly makes me regret what I said. Between her and Charlotte, I’m batting 0-2.
Shit.
Kennedy scans the board and sighs. “Your dad is right. He has the most expensive properties and has hotels on all of them.” She looks at her properties scattered across the boards, including her set of hotels on much cheaper spaces. “Mine just can’t compete. I guess it means I’m screwed.”
Well, this went careening downhill pretty fucking quickly.
Our playful game of Monopoly has suddenly become a metaphor for the war that rages between Falco Enterprises and Hawke Enterprises, and any goodwill I’ve built up with Kennedy today has disappeared in an instant by reminding her my client’s sole focus is crushing them.
She pushes up from the table and runs her good hand back through her hair, suddenly looking as exhausted as she is mad. “I think I’m going to go back upstairs since the game’s over. I’m tired.”
Lie.
Well, maybe not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.
“Are you all right?”
She’s pissed. Maybe this wasn’t the best game to play, considering all that’s going on outside of this house.
Forcing a smile, she nods. “I’m fine.”
Shit.
She’s definitely not fine. And if I don’t try to fix it fast, the tension might rip her apart in her weakened state.
I glance at the clock. “It’s bedtime for you, anyway, Bebelle.”
Charlotte groans. “Aww, really?”
Nodding, I climb to my feet to gather Charlotte from her chair. “Yep. I even let you stay up an extra twenty minutes to finish the game, which means we don’t have time for a story tonight.”
She pouts but doesn’t argue, knowing it’s not going to get her anywhere.
I turn back to Kennedy. “I’m going to go get her tucked in. Do you need anything?”
Kennedy shakes her head. “No, I don’t need anything from you.”
I recoil slightly at her emphasis on the words.
And here I thought we had come to a truce of sorts, but it appears her animosity toward me hasn’t abated, despite what’s happened since I took her from her place. It was always there, just suppressed by her current situation. All it took was one little reminder of our quagmire to bring it to the forefront again.
I follow Kennedy up the staircase to make sure she doesn’t fall and lead Charlotte to her room while the woman who seems to be back to despising me disappears into mine.
Charlotte quickly changes into her pajamas and brushes her teeth before she climbs into bed. I tug the covers up over her, and she settles in with her favorite bunny.
I flip off her light and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”
“How long is Kennedy staying?”
I have no fucking clue.
“I’m not sure, sweetie, until she feels better, I guess.”
Her brow furrows, her lips drooping. “And then she’s leaving?”
Her question hurts me more than I thought it would, far more than I thought it could. So does the way her voice breaks asking it.
“Then she’ll go back to her place.”
“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice matches my own. “Okay…”
But I can’t let her see it.
I’ve already managed to drag her into all this—the uncertainty, the violence—when all I’ve ever done is try to shield her from anything that might ever hurt her. Now, by helping Kennedy, by being selfish and bringing her here, I’ve made it even worse.
I give her another kiss. “Goodnight. No messing around. Stay in bed and go to sleep.”
She nods, but I know she’ll likely spend a few minutes playing with her Barbies or reading with her flashlight or doing something else she shouldn’t be.
At this point, I’ve given up trying to corral her. If she’s amped up and can’t sleep, the best tactic seems to be letting her wear herself out quietly in her room before she puts herself back to bed.
I close her door behind me, then make my way down the hall toward my room.
The silence of the house is almost deafening.
An ominous feeling settles over me. Maybe because I know I’m going to be walking into another argument with Kennedy when the last thing she needs right now is to be getting all worked up and upset.
I nudge open the slightly ajar door to my room and find her sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the street.
She turns toward me as I enter, giving me a look that says I should probably just go sleep in the guest room tonight rather than face her wrath.
I close the door behind me and lean against it. “You’re pissed.”
Releasing a bone-weary sigh, she returns to staring out the window. “I’m not pissed.”
Barely biting back a full-blown laugh, I chuckle and push off the door, making my way to her. “Yes, you are. I’ve seen it enough from you that I can recognize it.” I stop next to the window, annoyed with her refusal to look at me when she’s trying to lie. “I didn’t mean anything by the hotel comment.”
She waves her good hand dismissively, keeping her attention on the street. “It’s just a game. I know that.” A sigh slips from her pink lips. “But this isn’t. This is my life. All of our lives. What Falco is doing”—she shakes her head and swallows as if trying to stop a sob—“what they’re doing is making it really fucking hard. And now Roselli is dead, and my uncle—”
Her sob ends whatever she was about to say, and I close the distance between us and settle next to her on the windowsill, pulling her good hand into mine and squeezing it. “Your uncle will be okay. Everything I know about him has me absolutely convinced of that. That man isn’t going down without a fight.”
Kennedy opens her eyes to meet mine, a fiery determination burning across the vibrant blue. “Neither are we.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
The Hawkes have been battling Falco in the courts for years, and they won’t allow a few bullet holes to stop them from following through with their plans for The Hawke Hotel and expanding beyond that.
She stares down at our hands for a while, then pulls hers from mine, holding it against her chest. “My cousin called while you were tucking Charlotte in.”
A dozen different faces flash through my head. “Which one?”
Her lips twitch slightly at the question. “Allie…”
“What did she say?”
“She just wanted to give me an update. She said Stone is still stable and Aunt Nora and Coen are at the hospital with him pretty much twenty-four-seven. Isaac was released today and is at home with Viviana and Jack, and her dad flew down from Chicago to help ensure they stay protected.”
I cringe. “So, Cutter Jackson is in town again.”
Kennedy’s gaze cuts to me. “You know who he is?”
“It would be hard not to, after what happened with Satriano.”
When the head of the Calabrian ‘Ndrangheta shows up in New Orleans, chasing the daughter of Cutter Jackson and Valentina Marconi—who control their territory in Chicago with an iron fist—it’s impossible not to take notice. And when Satriano ended up dead, and it had the potential to start a mob war, it raised the stakes even higher.
Of course, I’ve kept my ears and eyes open, and I’ve had Marcel scouring the streets for anything that might affect Falco’s plans.
The mention of Satriano sends a shiver through Kennedy, and she rests her temple against the glass. “Do you really think this shooting had to do with us or Roselli…or both of us?”
“I wish I fucking knew, Cherie. I really do, but I don’t. It would make it a hell of a lot easier, wouldn’t it?”
She nods slowly. “It would.”
“But you know you can trust me, Kennedy.”
One of her pale brows rises. “Can I?”
I sit upright, my anger straightening my spine. “You really think after all of this that I would do anything to hurt you?”
She chews on her bottom lip. “Maybe not physically, maybe not intentionally…”
Hell.
I don’t bother correcting her because she’s right.
The things I do for Falco do hurt her and her family, literally everyone she cares about, and I don’t have any intention of stopping. But the need to offer an explanation for her earlier accusation about Charlotte slices at my chest. She needs to understand why I do this. Why I have to.
“You know, it isn’t just about the money.” I shake my head. “It really isn’t about the money at all.”
Her brow furrows. “Then what is it about?”
“Before, you told me that I use Charlotte as an excuse for what I do but that she doesn’t need all this.” I motion around the room. “But it isn’t about buying her expensive things. It’s about giving her the security I never had.”
True confusion fills her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Shit.” I scrub my hand over my face, then stare out the window at the light drizzle starting to fall on the front lawn and street. I hadn’t intended to get into this with her, and I’ll have to watch my words very carefully. Returning my gaze to Kennedy, I find her waiting patiently for me to continue. “My parents both died when I was very young, and I went to live with my mom’s mother when I was about Charlotte’s age. It wasn’t”—I glance away, out the window again—“very pleasant.”
Just mentioning it at all sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the weather outside.
“I never felt love or safety in her home. I never felt wanted. I never knew that I had somebody I could rely on who would always be there for me. I was a burden. Half the time, I wasn’t even sure if we’d have a home because she would get evicted, and we’d have to move in with friends or stay at shitty hotels for a while. Sometimes, we didn’t have electricity, or food, or any of the things a child needs to thrive.” I peek over to Kennedy, and her mouth hangs open slightly. I give her a sad smile. “I know it’s a far cry from this.” I sweep my hand out to the room again. “That’s only because when I got to high school, I realized getting a good education and a good job was the only way I’d ever change my life. So, I studied, and that’s all I did. I got a full-ride scholarship to college and then went to law school.” I suck in a heavy breath, fighting against the emotions threatening to choke me. “And the moment I found out my ex-wife was pregnant, I made a promise to that baby that she would never feel any of those things that I did growing up. So, when I tell you that what I do is for Charlotte, to give her what I never had, it isn’t about this house or my car. It’s about what she feels here and when she’s with me, that she has a roof over her head, that she’ll always know that I’ll take care of her.”
A tear trickles out of Kennedy’s eye, and she swipes it away and clears her throat, looking back out the window. “I’m pretty lucky to have what I do.”
“Your family is unshatterable. When they set their sights on something, they get it done, and they protect each other, doing whatever it takes, no matter what.”
I try to keep the anger out of my words, but it seeps in slightly all the same. She turns to look at me and opens her mouth to say something, but she swallows the words instead.
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, the rain hitting the window harder, coming faster and with more aggression.
I push to my feet, releasing a sigh. “It’s probably time for you to take your medication again. You want to go back to bed?”
She shakes her head and glances down at herself. “Honestly, all I want right now is a shower. I feel disgusting.”
Holding out a hand to her, I offer a smile. “That can be arranged.”