Page 78 of Accidentally Forever

“Wait,” Hawk cuts in. “Xavier wasn’t your contact?”

“What? No. He’s useless. I mean, he’s technically the owner of Ash & Ivory but Marion runs it. He’s the one with all the numbers and bullshit. He’s not as dumb as he looks.” Orion drags a hand through his hair, chin falling to his chest. “I was just told to pull one of the paintings and drop it here.”

Violet steps forward and I tug her back against my chest. God, she’s going to give me a heart attack one day. “The gallery is closed down, though. It’s been warded off by the police.”

“I didn’t get it from the gallery, Violet. I got it from the source. You weren’t supposed to figure all this shit out so quickly. It was going to be a quick and fast death to your career that you couldn’t come back from. Fuck, I’m not getting paid for this one.”

I don’t understand why Orion would spill his guts here. He could have made up some bullshit and had us toss him out but he’s owning up to actual crimes. He’s just another fall man, probably less tangled up in all this than Marion but still an issue. I should push this off to the detectives walking through our home, tell them we found another piece of the puzzle but I’m not going to let this bullshit sit any longer.

“Why us? Since you’re feeling like talking. Why the fuck were we targeted over any of the other collectors in the city?”

Banks mutters under his breath, “Puma, this isn’t the time or the place.”

I wave him off. “He accused us in public,” I growl. “We’ve had long-time clients file lawsuits, people we’ve done nothing but good business with. They’re cutting us off without a shred of evidence. Orion should be glad I dragged his sorry ass in here instead of playing his game and airing out his dirty laundry all over our showrooms.” Turning back to Orion, I wait for an explanation and while I was bracing for the reality, I’m still not prepared for it.

“You’re all so damn dumb. The real Orion or at least this version has been under your goddamn noses this entire time.” He glances up at me, a twinkle in his eyes. “Seriously, Puma? Think about it. The man who’s never once flaked on you, never once questioned your prices, never once caused any problems. Always reliable, always helpful. Every single party Gray throws—who’s the guy you can always count on to make it a success? Orion is not a name. He’s an entity, an idea, a thought. People use it for many different purposes, mostly deviant ones.”

My jaw tightens as I rack my brain. I glance at Gray, who’s frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. “No one comes to mind,” I say finally, even though I know it’s a lie. Someone does come to mind, but I need to be sure. I need him to say it.

Orion lets out a low laugh. “Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about the guy you all trust more than anyone. The one you probably call your lifeline or some sentimental bullshit like that. He’s been in your lives for years, Puma. He’s the reason this has gone so smoothly. I should have known you guys would have done some shit to draw him out and I got caught in the crosshairs. He’s a slippery motherfucker but it seems that you guys came prepared. Kudos. Now, where does this leave me?”

I have no idea. I also don’t really care because he’s not the issue here. He did a job and he’ll get paid for it. No, I’m more pissed at the real Orion or at least the current one that’s been toying with us. This time when I meet Gray’s eyes, I know that he’s already pegged who it is.

Chapter fifty-seven

GRAY

Everything inside me is on fire as I push through the halls, my boots pounding against the polished floors. The party noise fades into the background, replaced by the roaring in my ears. I can’t believe it’s him. Out of everyone, the one client we trusted above all, the one person who never gave us a reason to doubt. My blood is boiling.

When I hit the living room, I spot him. Nolan, our so-called best client, trying to slip out unnoticed. He’s quick, I’ll give him that, but I’m faster. I’m on him before he makes it out the door, catching him just a few feet away from his car. His hand is on the handle, and for a second, he freezes. I don’t give him a chance to run as my hand slams into the car door, blocking his escape.

Puma and Hawk appear behind me, their presence a solid wall of backup. I don’t need to look to know they’re just as furious as I am. Banks can’t be far off, but this is mine. I’m taking this one.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” My voice is a low snarl, but the rage in it makes Nolan flinch. His shoulders tense, and then he turns around, trying for some weak version of his usual charm. It falls flat.

“Gray, come on,” he says, letting out a bitter laugh that makes my stomach churn. “It’s not personal.”

“Bullshit.” I shove him roughly against the car, my hand fisting in his shirt. “How is this not personal? You’ve been in our house. You’ve eaten our food, drank our whiskey. Hell, we trusted you.” Just thinking of all the hoops we had to jump through, the pictures Marion sent Violet to threaten her, the terror our women lived through—it was all just a game to this man while he was hiring me to rearrange his goddamn dining halls.

Nolan’s smile twists into something bitter. “Maybe that was your first mistake.”

I want to hit him, but I hold back. The anger rolling off Puma and Hawk behind me tells me they’re ready to jump in, but I need answers. “Why, Nolan?” I demand. “Why would you do this to us?”

He shrugs, like he’s talking about something as minor as a parking ticket. “It was time. The Ashford pack has been riding high for too long. No one stays on top forever, Gray. And let’s face it, you guys were due for a fall.”

“So that’s it? Jealousy? You’re pissed because we succeeded?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Nolan sneers. “The damage is done. Your reputation—your so-called perfect pack—will never recover. You’ll see.”

I watch Puma rear back, his fist slamming into the car just beside Nolan’s head with enough force to leave a dent. The sound reverberates through the driveway as Nolan flinches hard, his shoulders slumping as the mask of smugness slips off his face for the first time. The crowd gathering at the front of the house gasps, whispers cutting through the tension. This isn’t good. It’s all wrong. This could spin out of control, but Puma doesn’t give a damn.

“Try again,” Puma growls, his voice low and dangerous. The look on his face—pure, unfiltered rage—sends a chill up my spine, even though I’m not the one on the receiving end. “Because I happen to know that you didn’t work for shit. We both come from money. We grew up together but we took very different routes and that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

Nolan swallows hard, his jaw tightening. The guy is slick, I’ll give him that. He’s got a cockroach’s survival instinct, always wriggling out of tight spots. But right now, with Puma pinning him down and the rest of us standing like a brick wall behind him, Nolan’s charm is useless.

There’s something that feels uneasy about this but I don’t get the chance to hash it out as a sharp jasmine scent comes barreling toward us. Lance is right behind her, looking flustered as hell, holding Sofie close as if that’s going to stop the inevitable train wreck. Whatever argument had been bubbling up between them isn’t even a footnote now—Violet’s focus is locked on Nolan.

I don’t know how she does it, how she makes herself seem so much taller than she really is, her presence so sharp that it cuts through the air before she’s even spoken. She stops right in front of him, hands on her hips, her gaze drilling into him with such force that I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

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