Page 103 of Hard Wired

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dominic lay on the concrete. His lip and nose were swollen, and blood matted his hair. His stomach ached where Sandford had kicked him. The coward would never have dared if those three enforcers hadn’t been pinning Dominic down.

He touched the deep scrape on his cheek. It was still oozing blood. Sandford’s ring had done it.

No more pretty boy, the lawyer had mocked.

Like Dominic cared about his fucking face. He wanted to know where Sylvie was and what the hell Raymond was doing to her.

He dozed and woke up when a key scratched in the lock. Dominic had no idea how long he’d slept. His stomach gnawed at itself with hunger, so he assumed several hours had passed.

When the door opened, he saw daylight. He’d been lying in the dark. The brightness made him squint.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Raymond switched on a light. He was holding a gun.

Dominic sat up. “Here to finish me off? Is that your idea of mercy?” Maybe it was. A quick gunshot wound to the head would be far preferable to whatever the Russians had planned for him later.

Raymond said something to a person in the hall and closed the door. They were alone. That probably meant this was his last chance to beg.

“I’m sorry for failing you.” Dominic’s voice sounded strange, probably because his nostrils had swollen shut. “I never wanted you to be a part of this. But please take care of Sylvie. I get that you’re angry at me, but don’t take it out on her.”

“Shut up. You have no idea how sick I am of hearing you talk.”

Dominic flinched at the harshness in his brother’s voice. Had Raymond ever spoken to him that way? He sounded like Charles.

“The least you could do is hold yourself together and take what’s coming like a man. Don’t embarrass our family any more than you already have.”

“That’s how you really see me?”

An embarrassment. Weak. Dominic had thought he couldn’t sink any lower, but every word his brother uttered was another stone pushing him down into the depths.

Raymond knelt beside him. “Be quiet,” he whispered in a completely different tone altogether. “You have to trust me, Nic. Stay close, and I’ll help you.” For a split second, he held Dominic’s hand and squeezed it.

“What?”

But his brother had already stood up again and opened the door.

Patrick, the guard Dominic had seen yesterday, came into the room and lifted him up to standing. More guards flanked them as they walked him into the main room of the pool house.

“Dominic, I hope you slept well.” His uncle smiled like he was enjoying this. “I would’ve invited you in for breakfast, but I’m afraid our chef’s not here.”

Dominic licked at his bloody lip. “Can we get this done without any more bantering?”

Raymond elbowed him in the side. “I told you to stay quiet.” The harsh tone was back, but the words reminded him of what Raymond had whispered. I’m going to help you. Dominic didn’t see how, but he decided to go with it. He didn’t have any options left.

To either side of Charles, crowding the room, stood the other Syndicate captains. Men Dominic had known most of his life, who’d worked for him, who’d treated him like their own son. Most of them just eyed him with stony expressions, but one man spat at his feet when he came near.

To them, he was already dead.

Charles raised his arms, and everyone else quieted. “The Crane brothers are back among us. Two of them, at least. I know I’m not the only one who’s gratified to see it, even in a different form than we all were hoping. I wanted to bring both of my nephews into the fold again, where they belonged. But life doesn’t always deal out the hand we’d like to get. I’m confident you’ll all welcome Raymond to take his place at my side, and not hold any of his older brothers’ failings against him.”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement. No doubt Raymond’s presence was helping them set aside any lingering doubts. A Crane was once again at the head of the Syndicate, even if Raymond wasn’t truly in charge.

But Dominic guessed his betrayal had united the factions behind Charles more than any endorsement ever could.

Again, Dominic thought of Raymond’s whispers in that room. Had he imagined it? Maybe he’d been hallucinating, his mind grasping for anything to hold onto.

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