Those same lips parted in surprise. Before she responded, I captured them with my own, unable to resist her mouth's soft invitation. I teased the tip of my tongue over her spread lips and swept the flat against her tongue. She gave me a little pant before I pulled away and smiled at her dazed expression. As she sat back, all hints of her anger had disappeared and were replaced with another hot-blooded emotion.
“Get a room,” Mila grumbled from the closest seat to the front. She was as far from us as one could be in the space so she could tell Lawrence the way.
“I'll kiss my fiancée whenever I like, Mila, and I don't need your commentary on the matter.”Why are you so determined to test me?I stared at Mila in challenge, waiting for an answer to my unspoken question.
She was a smart girl but also young. Her continued disrespect had gone unmet by any genuine punishment. Was she acting this way to prove a point about how far she could push me? Or was she as untrustworthy as I feared, testing the limits of my control for her use?
“She's just a kid, Mason,” Victor said from his position between us, unwittingly taking a side in my internal debate. He meant it as an excuse, though, not an explanation. His attitude toward her wore on my nerves as well. I got that he felt responsible for her, but she wasn't half as innocent as Victor wanted her to be. The irony of that thought didn't escape me.
“Fuck you, Victor! I'm nineteen.” Mila’s rage-filled shriek hurt my ears, and I seriously wondered if this girl was worth the trouble.
I waved vaguely to demonstrate how easily the point had proven itself, “See, Vick? Fuck you. She's nineteen.”
Claire leaned forward, subtly blocking my glare. “I'm sorry if our kissing made you uncomfortable, Mila.”
“Sure you are.” The nasty note in her voice wiped the smile off Claire's face. Mila turned back to Lawrence and the open partition that allowed for easy conversation. Mila had tried to sit up front with him, but he insisted she was safer and he was more comfortable with her in the back.
Claire smoothed the hurt off her expression and grabbed my hand. I was all too happy to accept her affection. Especially considering how badly I wanted to strangle the “kid” Vick sat possessively beside.
After everything that happened on Christmas, Hector agreed to provide me with a larger number of his men so long as I included them when I finally faced my father. So I left all of the men I trusted at the house to keep an eye on things with Hector's men. I didn't distrust Hector, but I would be a fool not to prepare for him to betray me.
Two of his men drove behind us now. I needed the extra manpower, and Hector needed the assurance that I wouldn't run home to my father. I resented the idea, but I understood his fears. Anyone with a half-decent father would have difficulty understanding how I hated mine.
If we found trouble, we had backup, and since Claire insisted on going everywhere I did, the added men made her safer. And If this action also assured Hector that we were being transparent with him, then so be it. And we were, mostly.
I wouldn't ever reveal all of my secrets, but I had no intention of betraying him. As Claire had pointed out, we were each other's strongest allies.
The rest of my men were digging up leads on my father and Daniel. The number had grown considerably in the months since I called in a favor with my father's police connections to remove Charles Gains' body and destroy the evidence. Getting rid of a body is one thing, but making a dozen or more witness statements go missing is much more troublesome. I wondered every day how different things would have been if I had just held in my rage for another minute. What could have been if I knew she hadn't died?
That guilt Claire carried over all those murder victims not getting justice was mine to bear, not hers. I would do what I could to make that right once I was in power. The police department could open any case I liked once they followed my lead. I wouldn’t breathe a word of it until I had definite answers, but I would lay that worry to rest for Claire.
My trust fund may be loaded with money earned through the mistreatment of countless people, the epitome of corporate greed, but it allowed me to recruit more soldiers, and ultimately, it would allow me to make our city a better place. To take Claire's burdens and relieve her of them. In my soul, I knew that I was meant to do that for her.
Hector's men were also involved in that project. They just had fewer relevant details. Hector was on my father's shortlist long before his affiliation with me, but it was true that his brother-in-law was likely targeted to prove a point because of me. I didn't show it in our meeting, but I felt sick for the little girl, especially knowing what that type of violence can do to a child. I pitied his wife for finding her brother that way. I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that things would run differently when I was in charge. It wasn't as comforting as it could have been, with me doubting the likelihood of our success.
We drove close to the river, and memories of explosives and Casey's burnt corpse filled my mind. I could smell the burnt flesh like I was still standing over him. That failure chafed more with Mila sitting so close, looking miserable and likely to fuck us over. She gave Lawrence another direction, and I realized we weren't headed south to the warehouse district and the piers but to the city's north end. The northwest corner, to be precise, was as pristine and polished as it came. Not to mention, it was home to men with more money than God, with family members that came over on the Mayflower and had remained powerful since.
Beautiful white stone and glass buildings barely broke the skyline. Everything here was vast, majestic, and historic. The business district where I worked had just as many historical buildings, but these had never seen public use. A few larger buildings had been added, apartment buildings for children who would never gain financial independence, coffee shops, and the like.
I couldn't say too much about financial independence when most of my wealth came from the same area, one of those same families. I made good money as a lawyer, but it couldn't compare to a Dubois trust fund.
Just past the polished stone buildings was a small suburb where my grandfather and uncles still lived and the very place my mother had grown up. The entire Dubois family epitomized stupid, stinking rich old money. The kind that made you feel invincible and made people willing to do nasty things to get close to it.
“This looks familiar,” Mila commented as we turned off on a street I also recognized. One that led over a small bridge separating the suburban peninsula and the greater mass of the city. The tires thumped over the uneven stonework. The town had carefully maintained it for over a hundred years.
We pulled down a familiar street. Wispy clouds loomed against the backdrop of the gray sky, thicker than they might look closer inland. The entirety of the block was a single rolling estate coated in freshly fallen snow but already perfectly manicured without a speck or brown slosh out of place. The name Dubois was carved into the stone wall surrounding the compound. I took a deep breath expecting Mila to tell me she was held here, but she said nothing as we passed.
“Is that—” Claire started to ask.
“Not now,” I cut her off, wanting to hear almost nothing less than what Mila might say about that. I should have known my relief would be short-lived. She directed Lawrence to turn, and we were on another block dedicated to the Dubois. Kind of like a satellite location of lesser manors.
“This one right here,” Mila pointed a slender finger at a gray stone mansion. The grounds were poorly maintained, with brown slush lining the drive and icy paths. I had only been here once as a child, and I knew the inside was similar. Still costly but nowhere near as impressive as my grandfather's estate.
I'd visited the one to the right more frequently but only a few times. These were my uncles' homes, where they raised the cousins with whom I was never good enough to be included. Once my mother died, I never heard from them again. It was for the best anyway, especially now that I realized the Dubois family had other reasons for hating my father. Were the rest of them involved too, or was Mila fucking with me?
“I was kept here for a few weeks. I'm sure of it,” she said, seeming to answer my thoughts.
“There are many buildings. Do you know which one?” Vick didn't know this house, this uncle. He surely knew where my family estate was and recognized it, but even his dealings with my father shouldn't have brought him this way.