Chapter 15: : Chapter 15

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Come on, my dude, don’t be like that.” Hawke groans in complaint, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at me because he’s so invested in some shooting game on the screen. I swear, the single worst thing I had built into this mansion was the cinema room. I never even use it. But it’s somehow turned into a hangout for whoever the fuck wants to come around.

I stare a hole into the back of Billie’s head. She’s another unwanted guest. “Does Dutton know you’re here?” I ask, irritated. Dutton is many things, but he’s especially protective over his sister.

“No, and I want it to stay that way,” she says, then snaps, “Are you fucking kidding me, Hawke? I thought you said you had my back.”

“Stop being a princess. Not my fault you’re a shit shot.”

“Maybe you should practice more in real life, and you’d be more useful with an actual gun,” Billie bites back as she flips her long honey-colored hair. She’s striking, with features very similar to my aunt Honey.

“I don’t disagree,” Ford says as he focuses on the portable chess board he’s playing on the floor against Hope. Hope is rarely here; her heavy studies and traveling abroad keep her away from home. With a famous mother like Lena Love and a father like Alek Ivanov, who partly runs the underground auctions of New York, it’s fair to say she’s both aloof and guarded.

She tucks a loose strand of vibrant red hair behind her ear and pushes up her glasses as she asks, “Shouldn’t you be studying anyway, Billie?”

The two attend the same college, though virtually most of the time, considering their busy lives and influential families.

“I could say the same to you. Where’s your overbearing father?” Billie jokes.

“Out on a job. Gave me a few hours to fly the coop,” Hope replies as she moves her next piece. Ford looks at it appreciatively.

Hawke gets killed on screen and loses his shit, throwing the controller. Billie chuckles, and he pounces on her within seconds.

“That’s not funny,” he growls playfully, tickling her ribs.

“Fuck off. You deserved that, asshole.” She laughs. My left eye twitches, and my last fucking nerve snaps.

I pull out my gun and shoot twice into the ceiling. Hawke and Billie break apart, and he’s covering her body with his within seconds. I bet any money that if Dutton were here, he’d fucking string Hawke up by his ears for even touching his sister.

“What the fuck, man?” Hawke snaps. The other two seem unaffected but look up from their game.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I repeat as I grit my teeth.

“I don’t see what the problem is; you don’t usually care,” Hawke says, exasperated.

Ford begins packing up the portable chess table. “He’s always cared, genius; he just usually hides in his library to focus.”

“Get off me, you oaf,” Billie says, shoving Hawke off. He’s three times her size, yet she kicks him off with ease.

“That hurt my feelings,” Hawke says, rubbing his chest before turning back to me. “What, you got some big date or something?” he mumbles. I take a step to the side, pointing to the door. His eyes go wide.

“Do you?” he asks, now in total bewilderment.

“I don’t date.”

Billie mockingly says under her breath, “I don’t date. I fuck. Me, man.”

“You looking to leave in a body bag?” I ask her as she passes me.

She taps me on the shoulder with a smile. “Not unless you want to explain to our parents why you killed your sweetest cousin. Might not go down well at the funeral.”

I barely restrain a growl.

Ford ushers them all out. Hope is nice enough to thank me for my hospitality despite no invitation going out to anyone. It just so happened that once I was done with business and returned to my estate, the twins snuck off as I went into the library, and when I went to kick them out, somehow, the girls had joined them.

I stop Ford at the door, my hand hovering in front of his chest. In a low voice only he can hear, I ask, “They didn’t see the body, did they?”

I don’t usually make a mess in my house, but as circumstance would have it, we got a little careless with a newcomer from a motorcycle club in Boston who thought it would be a good idea to try and infiltrate us. Let’s just say he didn’t make it past the week.

“What body?” Ford asks, feigning ignorance.

I nod once and watch them as they leave. There’s no way in hell I want any of them here for what’s about to go down. I’m certain a beautiful and furious woman is about to attempt to rip me to shreds. And I can’t fucking wait.