He huffed a short laugh. "Your definition of lukewarm must differ from mine, Red, because I remember them being hotter than hell."
"Get to the point, Cass. I have blood to shed tonight, and unless you want it to be yours..."
He stared down at me for a long moment, then nodded and stepped back. I thought he was backing down, but he just pulled a matte black butterfly blade from his pocket and held it out to me, handle first.
"Fine," he said. "If that's what it takes to prove my loyalty."
I took the blade from him, simply because I preferred to be the one holding the weapons, and squinted up at him in confusion. "How fucking hard did Vega hit you in the head?" I muttered. "You're not making any fucking sense, and I don't have time for word games. Say what you mean, or stop wasting my goddamn time."
His jaw clenched tight, and a growling sound came from his chest. "I want you to trust me, Hades. You need my help with this Lockhart mess, but I can't help if you keep me in the dark. So, what will it take? Do I need to bleed for you, like Zed did? If so, have at it." His words were clipped with anger and frustration, and he spread his hands wide, inviting me to... what? Stab him? Carve my initials in his flesh and decorate it with a love heart?
"Zed had earned my trust long before he almost bled to death, Cass," I told him, shuddering slightly as I remembered the state my best friend had been in at the end of the massacre. He'd been stabbed six times by Chase before I'd gotten to them, then had to lie there dying as I finished the fight.
Cass dropped his arms with a sigh. "Then what will it take?"
"Why do you care?" I shot back. "Just keep your own house clean, and this doesn't need to affect you in the least."
His expression turned murderous. "It will affect me plenty if you get killed, Red. I don't want you dead."
Surprise rippled through me, and I felt the need to push him harder. "No? Why not? Without me in charge, you could have free run of Shadow Grove. You wouldn't have me skimming from every aspect of your business and pushing you around like a big bully. Some might think you'd be a hell of a lot better off if I were dead."
He glared. "You know why."
I tilted my head to the side, spinning his knife around my finger. "Do I? Spell it out for me. Maybe I'm too young to get it."
His jaw tightened again and his hands balled to fists at his sides, but no words exited his mouth. Stubborn fucking donkey.
"Forget it, Cass," I said with a disappointed shake of my head. "You want me to trust you, but you can't even admit how you feel. And no, Grumpy Cat, I didn't buy your bullshit for a damn second yesterday."
When he still said nothing, I twirled his knife again then flicked it closed. "Keep the bike," I told him. "I'll accept your knife as an olive branch instead—between platonic, professional acquaintances." I shot him a wink, then slid the folded blade into my cleavage for safe keeping. Sounded stupid—sticking a knife between my tits—but my outfit was severely lacking in pockets.
This time I made it halfway through the door before he cracked.
"You're right," he snarled. "I lied. I've wanted to kiss you for goddamn years."
I scoffed a laugh, turning back to face him but remaining in the doorway. "Just kiss? Come on, Cass. Don't go all innocent now."
"What do you want from me, a fucking love letter?"
A sly smile creased my lips. "Well, now that you've suggested it..."
His glare flattened in a way that almost made me laugh, but he didn't immediately tell me to get fucked.
"What about the rest?" he rumbled. "This attack on you and the Lockhart shit? I want to help."
I shrugged. "Write me that letter, and I'll think about it."
Cass blinked at me in disbelief, so I winked, blew him a kiss, and left.
If he thought it was going to be an easy comeback from that moody, hot-and-cold crap in my car yesterday, he was delusional. The path back into my good graces was going to be paved with broken glass and jagged rocks.
26
It took a couple of guesses to work out which storeroom Vega and his guys had been taken to, and I made a mental note to be more specific next time. Or speed up the timeline in sealing the rooms that were structurally unstable and unusable.
When I entered the right room, I found Zed crouched down on the floor having a conversation with the leader of the Death Squad, who sat against the wall.
No one else was in the room, though, and I arched a brow at Zed in question.
"One of Vega's boys thought he could mouth off," my second told me. "Serge and Malik are a couple doors down showing him the error of his ways while his buddies watch."
"Just kill them." Vega's voice was dull and hopeless. "We fucked up. We know the consequences for breaking the rules of neutral ground."
I propped my ass against a stack of boxes and looked down at him with disgust. "Pull yourself together, Vega. You're better than this. Someone set you up, and I want to work out who. Start from the beginning and don't leave out anything."
Vega drew a deep breath, his shoulders losing a bit of their slump as he started his story. There wasn't much to tell, either. Someone had hijacked his drug shipment at the hand-over point. The entire truck was taken, and the three Death Squad assigned to taking possession—including Vega's cousin, Tito—were gunned down.
"What led you to think it was the Reapers?" I asked when he paused for breath.
Vega winced. "One of my guys got an anonymous tip."
My brows shot up. "Are you fucking kidding me? You came here, to my club, and started a fight with a rival gang leader on the information of an anonymous tip?" Incredulous didn't even begin to describe where I was at.
He hung his head in disgrace. "I know. My only excuse is that I was blinded by rage and grief over Tito..."
I shot Zed a look, but he just shook his head and shrugged.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Who got the tip?"
Vega grimaced. "Adrien."
"Your second?" I didn't know the man well; Vega was a lot like Cass in that he preferred to run things hands-on and not rely too heavily on his second. I'd met Adrien in passing but didn't have a good grasp of what sort of guy he was.
"He’s the smartass currently taking an ass-kicking from Serge," Zed added, and I straightened up with a nod.
I let myself out of the room and easily found the storeroom where one of my head security guards was beating the crap out of Vega's second.
"Boss," Malik acknowledged as I entered the room. His gun was drawn and pointed at one of the other guys, who looked like he was about three seconds away from doing something stupid.
"Serge," I said, interrupting the other guard before he delivered another blow to Adrien. "I have a question for your friend here."
"Yes, sir," he grunted, hauling Adrien up by the front of his shirt, and nodded for me to proceed.
I gave the bloody, semi-conscious guy a tight, cold smile. "Adrien. I understand you had a tip-off. Care to tell me who that call came from?" There was no need to elaborate more than that; he knew perfectly well what I was asking to know.