Asleek sedan pulled up to the curb and Mina climbed out of the backseat, her face blank of any emotion. It was tempting to lower his shields and sneak a peek at what was happening behind that mask, but that would be a wild breach of trust.
And he’d already done enough damage for one evening.
The interior light illuminated Gabrielle’s face enough for him to see the glare she was aiming his way. And the single finger salute she sent him in response to his wave.
If things had been different, he would spend the next few days making things right with both women. But with Adrian in the picture, the best thing he could do for both of them would be to stay as far away as possible after tonight.
“I don’t remember giving you my address,” Mina said, her tone cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins as she brushed past him towards the entrance of the apartment building.
“You didn’t. I looked you up.”
“That doesn’t sound entirely legal, counselor.”
“It wasn’t,” he agreed, following her through the front door to the dual elevators located in the lobby. “I would apologize, but I needed to speak with you. Tonight.”
Pressing the button to call the elevator, Mina stood staring at the doors as if she could will them to open. “You know, I’ve heard there’s this amazing invention that allows you to speak to someone in another building. Even other cities. I believe it’s called a telephone.”
“I know what a phone is. I couldn’t—” A louddingannounced the arrival of an elevator a moment before the doors opened and a couple strolled out, snuggled up against each other without a care in the world. Cyrus followed Mina into the car and waited for the doors to close before continuing.
“I couldn’t risk a phone call. Or a text. Or anything that could be tracked.”
“Tracked by who?”
“My brother.”
The sideways glance she sent him didn’t give away any more of what she might be feeling, but the shift in her was palpable, even without his powers. “Your brother.”
“Yes. I know—” Biting back a growl of frustration when the elevator stopped again and the doors slid open, he followed her down the short hall to her apartment. When she didn’t slam the door in his face, he took it as an invitation and stepped inside, closing the door behind them and clicking the deadbolt into place.
“All right.” Fury all but rolled off her as she planted herself in the middle of her cozy, if somewhat scattered living room, her arms crossed, chin tilted up in a gesture that had him itching to kiss her senseless or toss her over his knee, he couldn’t decide. Maybe both, in no particular order. “Tell me why your brother, the golden child of one of the wealthiest families in New York City, would be listening to our phone calls.”
The single glass of wine he’d had at dinner wasn’t nearly enough to prepare him for this conversation, but he didn’t dare risk asking for a drink with her glaring daggers at him. “My family is,” he paused, struggling for the right words. He’d only ever told one other person the truth about his family, and it had cost them their freedom. “They aren’t exactly what they seem.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not all of their wealth comes from what you might call, ethical business ventures.” Bile rose in his throat, but he fought it back. “To put it bluntly, my brother now heads the largest organized crime syndicate on the East Coast. He smuggles stolen goods, drugs, weapons, you name it. If you need it, he can get it for you. At a price.”
For several long, tense seconds, she simply stared at him. The silence between them grew heavier with each passing moment, until it seemed like it might crush him. Taking a step forward, he held out his arms, desperate to feel her pressed against him. “Mina—”
But she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Need a minute.”
“I know this is a lot to process.”
Her head jerked back as if he’d physically slapped her. “A lot to process? No, Cyrus, a lot to process would be finding out your family has embezzled some funds from their various charities over the years. This is a fucking nuclear bomb you’ve just dropped on my goddamn head.”
“I know. I’m…” He trailed off, unsure of what exactly to say next. “Sorry” didn’t seem like quite enough. “If I’d known this would happen, I would never have involved you. The last thing I want is for you to be in harm’s way.”
Her eyes skittered back and forth, seemingly searching his face for something before they went wide with what he assumed was fear. “The reporter.”
“What reporter?”
“The one who wrote about you.” Turning away, she paced away from him and then back. “When you stole that car with your buddy as a teenager. There’s only one story on it that I can find, and the guy who wrote it ended up dead a couple weeks later. Was that your family?”
Fuck it. “I could really use a drink, Ace.”
“Yeah, me too.” Turning on her heel, she crossed the room to a well-stocked bar cart and poured them each a generous glass of what appeared to be whiskey. When he raised an eyebrow at her drink, she grinned, and for a split second everything was right again. “My mom’s family owns a distillery. I’ve been drinking whiskey pretty much my entire life. Mom taught me everything I needed to know about the stuff. Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Tipping the glass back, he downed half the contents in a single swallow. There was a burn, but not the kind that made his throat feel like someone had poured hot lava down it. It was more comfortable, and comforting, than he was used to with such a drink. “Is that your family’s label?”