21

Ten years later…
Weston
As I strode through the lobby of the resort and casino, I shook my head. I had to give it to the man, he’d made a fortune over the years. Not that Clinton Cross hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Well, the truth was that so had I, yet I had a feeling I’d worked harder to achieve billionaire status than he had.
Especially since a good portion of the Cross family wealth had been made through unscrupulous methods. Although I was a man who had crossed the line more than once or twice. Chuckling, I headed into the lounge, immediately finding a seat at the bar.
“Whatdya have?” the bartender asked within seconds.
“Macallan double cask single malt.”
“A man of impeccable tastes. Chuck, I’ll have the same. This is my very good friend, Weston Augustine. Take good care of him and whatever he wants is on the house.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Cross.”
Grinning, I turned my head then stuck out my arm for a shake. “Clinton Cross, as I live and breathe.”
“Who did you expect to find?” His eyes twinkled as he accepted the gesture, pumping my hand as if in recognition of the number of years it had been since we’d seen each other. “This is my empire. What do you think? I should add, one of many.”
“Now you run several empires. Still arrogant as fuck.”
“You know it. Well-deserved, I might add.”
“That remains to be seen.” I’d seen pictures, the eligible bachelor appearing in several glossy magazines with one gorgeous woman after another adorning his arm like prized poodles.
He laughed, and as soon as Chuck placed our rocks glasses on the napkins, he lifted his drink for a toast. “It’s been too long, my friend.”
“Yeah, it really has.” I’d almost resisted calling him after making plans on traveling to Chicago on business. The last thing I wanted was to rehash old memories. I’d moved on with my life. But as had happened before, I wouldn’t be allowed to get away without talking to him and maybe Christian as well.
“What has it been, six years?”
“About that.” I took a sip of my drink and scanned the bar. “Ten years of freedom from the City of Hope.” Shit. Now, I was the one who’d mentioned the place where the Damned had fucked up several lives. The entire system had crumbled after we’d left, the myopic society that had once held the world in the palm of their hand collapsing. Maybe it was better for all involved, although I doubted the three of us would ever be invited to a reunion.
Clinton hunkered over the bar. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“Speak for yourself.” After the incident, I’d taken my last exam and left without bothering to share in the graduation celebrations. I’d planned on never seeing a soul again, including my two buddies, but it seemed fate continued to find the need to remind us of the tragedy. We’d gotten together every couple of years, the first under less than pleasant circumstances.
“What brings you to Chicago?”
“Business for one. Elite business for another.”
“Elite business?” He turned so he could face me. “What happened?”
I took a deep breath, glancing at the crowded space before answering. “I think The Iceman is still alive.”
His eyes opened wide. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I was attacked last week in my office. The asshole almost succeeded in putting a bullet in my brain.”
“Don’t take offense, but you’re no poster child for good will. What makes you think it was him instead of one of your other enemies?”
I held up my arm, wiggling my fingers. “Scar on his right hand. More like a burn but strangely ornate like a symbol. Right?”
Clinton took a deep breath. “Yeah. Exactly like that. I heard it was from a botched assignment. I’m curious. Did you get a good look at him?”
“No. He knocked out the power before coming inside. The only reason I managed to see his hand was because I almost broke it while smashing it into the window. The moonlight gave me a split-second look.”
“You let him get away?” He smirked.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting an assassin at my private office for which no one knows the address. I didn’t have my weapon on me at the time.”
“Now you’ll learn never to go anywhere without it. It’s funny how the Iceman has a way of finding whatever information he wants. The guy has to be in his sixties minimum by now. Plus, there hasn’t been a sighting or report on him for…”
“Eight years,” I answered for him. So the idea was farfetched. That didn’t make it impossible. “Since the last time an attempted assassination was made.” Clinton had been lucky to survive, the bullet centimeters from shattering his heart. He’d spent three weeks in the hospital while Christian and I had attempted to track the assassin down to no avail. He was like a ghost.
Two years later, Christian had been involved in an attempted assassination that couldn’t be confirmed as the work of the notorious man.
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Why now, after all these years?”
“No clue. Maybe the anniversary of the death of his daughter.” The ten years since Ava had been hit by one of the Elite members driving like a maniac had recently played fresh in my mind. I’d never been able to get the horrific visions of her broken and bleeding body out of my mind. Fuck. I’d held her as blood had oozed past her lips, terror in her eyes as she’d gripped me with one hand until the ambulance had arrived. Just before she’d been taken away, she’d pressed her fingers against my face.
There were times when I looked into the mirror and could swear her bloody fingerprints had permanently stained my skin.
“I’d forgotten about that.” He took a gulp of his drink.
He hadn’t forgotten. None of us had. I could tell by the shadow crossing his face he had the same nightmares that Christian and I had. Ava had hung on for a week in the hospital after falling into a coma, but there’d been no brain activity, her parents finally pulling the plug. It had nearly gutted all three of us, although Clinton had never admitted it.
“Ten years is a long time to suffer and grieve,” I offered.
“Maybe so. Perhaps he’s simply preparing to finish his list before he dies.”
List. The member who’d been behind the wheel had had been killed only six months after graduating, his lifeless body found thirty feet in front of his penthouse. While his death had been ruled a suicide, the three of us had known better. We’d expected The Iceman to continue his bloody path of revenge then, but the man had waited for eighteen months before attempting a hit on Clinton.
Then Christian.
Now, this. While I’d looked over my shoulder for five years, I’d stopped doing so a couple years before. Clinton was right. I had enough enemies who could have been responsible for making the hit, and I wouldn’t have suspected otherwise unless I’d seen the man’s hand.
“Maybe you’re right.” I rubbed my jaw, the memories kicking my ass all over again.
“Incidentally, I had a call from a Kentucky detective asking questions about Theo.”
Snorting, I narrowed my eyes. We’d never be free of the nightmare. And we shouldn’t be. “After this many years?” Hearing Theodore’s name always left a bad taste in my mouth. After the asshole had been stupid enough to try and rape Ava just to prove his worthiness, the three of us had handled him in the only acceptable manner. That didn’t mean his justifiable death didn’t weigh heavily on our minds.
Or maybe I was the only one of the three of us with a conscience.
William Watkins had done everything to pin a murder on the entire house when there’d been no body to find, no evidence of any kind as to what had occurred inside the third-floor laundry room.
“New to the job. Assigned a cold case,” Clinton chortled. Ice remained in the man’s veins.
“And it’s getting colder.”
“I wanted you to know in case the asshole tracked you down. I’ve already warned Christian.” He gave me a look that was a clear reminder of my requirement to keep the code of silence until the day I died. There was no need to challenge him. All three of us knew the score and what we could lose.
“Noted. You and I know there’s nothing to find.”
He’d handled the disposal of the body, and I hadn’t asked questions then, nor did I plan to now.
As far as I was concerned, the kid was dead and buried where he belonged.
No one attacked a woman in my world and lived.
Clinton took a deep breath. “Look, I have some business to attend to I can’t get out of. I’ll return, and we can continue discussing this. Incidentally, I convinced Christian to fly in.” He grinned as he waited to see my reaction.
“All the way from South America?”
“You obviously don’t keep up with the news, do ya?”
“I have a fifty-billion-dollar company to run.” It was a slight to the man standing in front of me. While we’d remained friends, our respective businesses had kept us from getting together more often.
He lifted his glass again. “You always were in competition with me. Including with women.”
“Women? All three of us had our pick if we wanted.” We’d been taught to believe we could have anything and anyone we wanted. While I’d enjoyed the years of feeling as if I was a king, I’d learned that anything worth keeping was also worth working for. I wasn’t certain Clinton had managed to claw his way out of the vacuum his father had imprisoned him in.
“I’m talking about one woman in particular.” He lifted his arm and index finger to reiterate the point.
Neither one of us needed to mention her name. In allowing her to become an obsession, we’d all built some aspect of our lives around her. Her death had driven all three of us into dark, icy conditions and had yet to release its brutal hold.
“Very funny,” I said, although none of it was funny in the least. If I didn’t change the subject, we’d become mired in the quicksand as we’d once been. “At least I don’t burn down buildings to inflate my ego and my bank account.”
“Once an asshole, always an asshole.” He tossed back the rest of his scotch, issuing a slight growl. “How’s the suite?”
“The penthouse? Almost better than my estate. Almost.”
“Only the best for my buddy.” He stepped away from the bar then turned back. “By the way. In case you get bored, check out the entertainment in the auditorium. I’m impressed my Entertainment Manager was able to come through with the booking.”
“Hmm… I’m certain whoever you have headlining is a stunning female.”
“Why, yes, she is. And no, I’m not fucking her if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I threw up my arms, chuckling under my breath. “Does that mean you’re waiting for the right woman?”
He thought about my question, his expression becoming haunted. “Maybe I am. We’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“Who knows. Maybe we’ll find the right woman to share the rest of our lives with us.”
“You still think about that?”
“From time to time.”
We’d talked about sharing a single woman for the rest of our lives in a jovial discussion over a bottle of liquor. Even then I’d known it was a pipedream created by monstrous men with god complexes. Yet we’d been serious about Ava .
As he rubbed his jaw, he got a faraway look in his eyes. “It could have worked you know.”
“With Ava ?”