Page 51 of Corrupted Memories
“So they knew we were gonna be called up?” Nico asks.
Shrugging, I double-check my gun to ensure it’s clean. “I don’t know. I didn’t call him, only read the message he sent.”
“Fuck. I feel like he found out just in time to hop on the jet. That doesn’t comfort me.” He swears, gripping the wheel tighter.
I swallow down my own nerves. “We’re not going to die tonight.”
Nico’s teeth grind audibly. “You might not, but?—”
Snapping my head to him, I nearly growl. “You’re my brother. If you die, I die. You got that? We’re not dying tonight.”
He swallows. “I die, you fight like hell to get out. That’s always been the goal, Sebastian.”
I shake my head. “You’re a dumb fucking twat if you ever thought I’d leave you behind.”
Nico slams on the brakes, turning to me. “I’m not afraid of dying. I’m afraid of failing you. My whole life has been about building yours, and I wouldn’t change a thing if in the end, you accomplished everything we worked for.”
“We,” I snarl back. “We worked for. Everything we’ve been working for is for you here in Chicago because you’re the only one I trust with my empire.” I don’t expect to tear up, so I glance away and clear my throat. “Neither of us are dying.”
Nico sighs. “I have a bad feeling. We weren’t ready for him to call us up so soon.”
“No we weren't, but that doesn’t mean we’re unprepared. You signal the men to blend in with the crowd?”
He nods. “Yes, but they’re already reporting we’re outnumbered.”
My tongue pushes at my cheek, and I wave for him to keep driving. “He needs me more than I need him. We can’t forget that. My father would never forgive him for killing me, and we both know Christian keeps my father on a very loose leash.”
“If there’s a leash at all,” Nico says, humor lacing his tone. His smile drops as he focuses back on the road. “Arthur won’t care about your father if he found out we’ve been monitoring him.”
I shrug. “No point in continuing to argue what ifs at this point. It is what it is. We’ll make do, like we always do, with whatever comes from tonight.”
He falls silent, the rest of the drive tense and quiet as we make our way to the part of the city most know to avoid. When we arrive, we sit there, staring down at the entrance
“If we do… it’s been a good run,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
My throat aches and I nod. “We did, didn’t we? I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not even when we were sixteen and we accidentally mooned Mrs. Hannagan?” he asks.
A choked laugh catches on my lips, and I turn to face him. “Not even then. She never let us live that down.”
He shakes his head and then sighs. “Fuck, I didn’t think I’d feel like this.”
I reach over, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll kill him myself before I let it get that far.” The confidence I push into my voice astounds me, but I need my right hand not to be anticipating our deaths.
He shakes off my touch. “You’re right, fuck. I just—I hate that bastard.”
Nico’s vendetta is more personal than mine. Arthur has impulsive tendencies, and his cousin was on the other side of a murderous one years ago. Nico and his cousin were close, and he didn’t deserve to die the way he did. That was the first time our goals shifted to focus more on Chicago and what we have planned for it. This city feels more my home than the country I left when I was twelve. But this is Nico’s home, and it always has been.
“He’ll meet his maker. I promise that,” I say darkly and open the car door, stepping into the evening air. Chicago is colder this time of the year, the sting in the air a teaser of the winter soon to come. I movearound the front of the car, meeting Nico at his side as he tucks his gun under his shirt.
I grab his arm when he’s about to walk, and swallow harshly. “If?—”
Nico laughs. “Nope, you can’t take it back now. Tell me when we’re driving back home to your girl.”
My mouth tilts up in the corner. He’s right, there’s no good that could come from whatever I was about to say. I don’t have the feeling I’m going to die tonight, but I’m not in the mood to get hurt either. We don’t see the gore of this life as often as one might assume, given my father’s job. And maybe I have my father to thank for that, for keeping it from me and sparing those images.
If push comes to shove, I’ll do the job I need to protect those I love, but I’m not a fan. It’s why I prefer a single bullet to the head, quick death and easy clean up.
