Page 54 of Black Hearts
Vaughn’s black gaze moved to me. “I figured. Travis told me it was all because of a girl.” His face, which until now had been quite emotionless, now that I was thinking about it, twisted into a smirk. Just for a split second, and then that smirk faded away. “You pretend like you’re different from us, but in the end, you’re the same.”
Markus didn’t like hearing that. I could practically feel the rumble in his chest when he said, “Do not compare us, brother. We are not the same.”
“Whatever you say.” Vaughn said nothing else, dropping his arms to his sides and going to walk around us, much like Jaz had done earlier, disappearing deeper into the house.
Markus and I stood there for a moment, neither one of us saying a thing. I set a hand on his arm, wanting to comfort him, knowing the unexpected appearance of one of his brothers affected him more than he let on.
What Vaughn had said was true, I think: Markus might act like he was different, on another level, cold and cruel and calculated at all times, but when the chips fell, he was just a man. A man struggling to keep control, but a man nonetheless.
Finally, Markus regained himself after the encounter, and he muttered a short: “Let’s go.”
We left the house. Vaughn, or Jaz—whoever had driven here—had parked their car right behind Markus’s. As we headed straight to Markus’s vehicle, I saw someone pacing the driveway, on the phone. The sides of his head were shaved, tattoos wrapped around the same area. He wore a leather jacket, and he looked like someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.
“Another one of your brothers?” I asked.
Markus threw a glance over his shoulder, then shook his head. He opened the passenger door for me as he said, “No. That one doesn’t belong to me.”
Huh. Must be someone else with Jaz, then.
We were on the road within another minute, heading back to the hotel. It was a ride of silence until I spoke up, “Are you okay?”
Markus sat there, knuckles tight on the wheel, and I could tell he was a little thrown-off by seeing Vaughn. “I’m fine.”
Normally I’d let it go, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I think it’s sweet he came back for you, to back you up with the others.”
“I’m certain my father blames me for his abandonment of the family in the first place, so I doubt it will help much.”
I could see how that might be true, but still. It had to mean something that his siblings were coming back home just to stand by him. He had to see that. You didn’t make a sudden cross-country trip just because you could.
Well, I guess some people did, but not people like the Scotts. They were definitely more of a business first kind of family. Other rich people might be different; I had nothing to compare them to, obviously.
We were at a red light, a mere five minutes away from the hotel, when I asked, “If your father doesn’t agree to leave, will you really kill him?”
Markus ground his jaw. “I suppose that depends on whether he has anyone to back him up. If we have the numbers…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, perplexed. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so unsure of himself, and it was all due to his father: the only man that could give Markus Scott pause. “I don’t like the prospect of killing family. It sets a bad precedent and opens the door for more in the future.”
“Are you worried your other family members might hear about it and try to come take it from you?” Markus did mention that his father had siblings, but that they were even more unhinged than his father. I shuddered to think about what that could mean, how bad they were. There was a time when I thought Markus and his band of psychotic family members were the worst of the worst out there, but then I’d learned things about my own father and was proven wrong. To think there could be worse Scotts out there…
I knew better now than to think it was impossible.
“If they try, we’ll see them coming. It isn’t like they could pop inside the estate without anyone knowing,” Markus said. “And if they are stupid enough to try, we’ll show them why we’re the superior Scotts. There’s a reason they aren’t in the family business.”
“The same reason why Bennet’s not a good fit?”
Markus threw me a look. “What would you know about that?”
“I hear things. He knows you don’t like him.”
“He’s too impulsive. Impulsive people tend to make mistakes.”
“He’s trying, though—”
He frowned. “Bennet is only trying now because of you.”
“And is there something wrong with that?” Markus glanced at me when I said that, but I meant it. If Bennet was now trying, if he was playing nice with the others, being less impulsive, what did it matter the reason behind it? “I don’t think he’d ever admit this, but I think Bennet has always wanted your approval. I think it would mean a lot to him if you told him you appreciated him.”
Markus scoffed at that, and we pulled into the hotel’s parking lot. It had a valet, but Markus waved him off, going to park the car himself. He said nothing for a while, and we got out of the car. With the file tucked under his arm, we headed for the side entrance of the hotel, its height towering over the lot with the cars.
It was only when we were on the elevator, by ourselves, that Markus mumbled, “I’ll think about it.”
