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Chapter no 10 – RAYLAN

Broken Vow (Brutal Birthright Book 5)

I donโ€™t know what the fuck happened yesterday.

Iโ€™ve never acted like that in my life. I was raised to be a gentlemanโ€”

not to grab a girl and kiss her like a wild bandit.

Maybe it was the adrenaline from racing Riona. Or the fact that weโ€™ve been in constant proximity for the last eight days. Or the fact that she manages to get under my skin in a way I donโ€™t quite understand.

I donโ€™t know what it is about her. Iโ€™ve always had this compulsion to overcome challenges. And Riona is a constant challenge. Sheโ€™s strong- willed and stubborn as fuck. Determined not to be impressed by me. Intent on always doing things her own way, damn the consequences.

Maybe I shouldnโ€™t have raced her at all. I know how competitive she is. But for fuckโ€™s sake, so am I! I thought it would be fun. Then I saw how seriously she was taking it. And I guess I realized I was taking it pretty damn seriously, too.

Well, now I feel like a horseโ€™s ass.

She was right to slap meโ€”I deserved that. I know damn well sheโ€™s got a boyfriend.

I donโ€™t like that guy, though. I get that heโ€™s good-looking and a fancy surgeon and all that shit. On paper heโ€™s a good match for Riona. But she doesnโ€™t need somebody stiff and proper like that.

She needs somebody who can make her laugh. Who can help her relax a little. Not someone whoโ€™s going to amp her up even more.

I guess that sounds like Iโ€™m describing myselfโ€”Iโ€™m not. I know Iโ€™m not the right guy for her, either. Weโ€™d probably murder each other. Plus my lifestyle doesnโ€™t exactly leave a lot of room for romance.

No romanceโ€”just a whole lot of experience.

Iโ€™ve seen a whole lot of ugliness and greed and violence.

But Iโ€™ve seen gorgeous things too. Iโ€™ve seen the sun setting over Victoria Falls. Iโ€™ve ridden camels over sand dunes bigger than any ocean wave. Iโ€™ve taken a chopper over a volcano half a day before it erupted. And walked on black sand beaches that look like an alien planet.

I keep a list of the best places. Maybe so I can show them to somebody else someday. Maybe just so I donโ€™t forget them.

I can hear Riona showering and getting ready for the day. I go and do the same, so she wonโ€™t have to wait on me.

It takes me a lot less time to shower. Probably โ€˜cause I donโ€™t have two feet of flame-red hair to deal with. I get ready, then I poach some eggs and put some toast on. And I make the coffee extra strong โ€˜cause I know Riona likes it that way. Itโ€™s a peace offering. I can guess itโ€™s gonna take a lot more than coffee and a good nightโ€™s rest to cool her off, though.

Sure enough, she comes sweeping out of her room without even a glance at me. She pours herself a mug of coffee and ignores the poached egg I set all nicely on a piece of buttered toast for her.

โ€œMorning,โ€ I say to her.

โ€œGood morning,โ€ she replies coolly. โ€œAbout yesterdayโ€”โ€

โ€œWe donโ€™t have to talk about that,โ€ she interrupts.

โ€œIโ€™m not tryna go on about it,โ€ I persist. โ€œI just wanted to say . . . Iโ€™m sorry.โ€

Her green eyes flit up at me for just a second, then look away again. I canโ€™t tell if sheโ€™s still mad or embarrassed or what. Maybe just surprised I apologized.

โ€œJustโ€”letโ€™s leave it alone,โ€ she says. โ€œThe whole thing was embarrassing.โ€ โ€œAlright,โ€ I say.

Riona grabs her coat and we head down to the underground parking garage. I check the vehicle over carefully before we enter, including looking under the carriage for any unwanted additions. As we drive up to street level, I can tell itโ€™s an ugly day. Freezing cold, windy, and gray as slate. Little bits of sleet whip against the windshield, fine and hard as sand.

Iโ€™ve been in too many hot places for too long. Iโ€™m fucking cold, even with the heat turned up in the car.

โ€œI canโ€™t believe this,โ€ I say to Riona. โ€œAfter all the nice things Iโ€™ve heard about Chicago winters . . . โ€

Riona gives a little snort.

โ€œItโ€™s only November,โ€ she says. โ€œItโ€™ll get a lot worse.โ€ โ€œHow could it possibly be worse?โ€

โ€œJust wait.โ€

We drive the four blocks to Rionaโ€™s office. I bet sheโ€™s glad now that we borrowed Danteโ€™s SUV. That wouldnโ€™t be a pleasant walk.

Usually Iโ€™d be a gentleman and drop her off right in front of the building while I find parking, but we need to stick together at all times. Especially now that I know Djinn is apparently such a relentless motherfucker.

Riona and I park a half-block away, then run for the double glass doors.

Compared to outside, the inside of the office building feels warm and pleasant. I can smell coffee and fresh muffins from the cafe on the ground floor.

I escort Riona all the way up to her office. Most of the people on her floor have gotten used to seeing me by now. Especially the paralegal Lucyโ€”she

gives me a little smile and wave.

I settle down in my favorite chair in the corner of Rionaโ€™s office while Riona dives right into her work. I see her plowing through folder after folder every day, but the pile of stuff she needs to get done never seems to shrink. She must be adding to it constantly.

After about an hour, weโ€™re surprised by a knock at the door.

Itโ€™s Dante and Nero. Danteโ€™s wearing a proper pea coat, but Nero only has on a black t-shirt and jeans. Iโ€™m guessing heโ€™s too hot-headed to ever feel the cold.

Dante says to me, โ€œI thought you might want to go talk to that ex-employee with me. Nero can stay here with Riona.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t need a babysitter,โ€ Riona says without looking up from her papers. โ€œI can be here alone for an hour. Thereโ€™s a hundred people on the floor with me.โ€

โ€œWell, Iโ€™m already here,โ€ Nero says. โ€œSo you may as well enjoy my company.โ€

He slouches over to my chair, flopping down on it as soon as Iโ€™ve vacated the spot. He goes to put his feet up on Rionaโ€™s glass coffee table. Still without looking up, she says, โ€œDonโ€™t even think about it.โ€

Nero grins and swings his legs over the arm of the chair instead, sitting sideways.

Itโ€™s strange. I never had a problem with Neroโ€”I like all Danteโ€™s siblings. But I find myself not wanting to leave him here with Riona. I tell myself itโ€™s because Iโ€™m supposed to be watching her, keeping her safe. Thatโ€™s my job. But if Iโ€™m totally honest, I look at Nero with his outrageous good looks and his air of menace that I know appeals to women in a very specific way, and I feel something just a little too close to jealousy.

Which is idiotic. Dante already told me that Nero is head over heels for some girl named Camille, and Riona is likewise taken by somebody else. So thereโ€™s nothing to be jealous about here. Not even a little bit.

Still, I leave the office in a strange kind of mood.

Once weโ€™re back in the elevator, Dante says, โ€œHowโ€™s it going with Riona?โ€ โ€œGood.โ€ I nod.

โ€œActually good?โ€ Dante asks.

โ€œYeah. I mean, weโ€™ve got our differences . . . โ€

Dante chuckles. โ€œI bet. Sheโ€™s great, though. Once you get below the prickly surface.โ€

โ€œYeah,โ€ I say. โ€œThatโ€™s what Iโ€™m finding,โ€

Iโ€™m not planning to tell Dante about my fight with Riona. Iโ€™m definitely not going to tell him about the kiss. That was pure stupidity. I wonโ€™t do that again.

Instead I say, โ€œYou want me to drive? I got a pretty sick ride.โ€

Dante chuckles. โ€œYou better. Nero brought me over in some crazy old car that felt like it was gonna fall apart trying to carry me around. I donโ€™t think they built cars for people my size back in the 50s.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t think theyย hadย people your size.โ€

โ€œExactly. You ever seen a bodybuilder from the 50s? They were like 178 pounds soaking wet.โ€

โ€œYou could have a real career in the circus if we could get you a time machine, take you back to the old-timey days.โ€

โ€œThanks,โ€ Dante snorts. โ€œNobody delivers a compliment like you, Long Shot.โ€

Dante has the address for Luke Barker, the guy Oran fired after he apparently tried to get touchy with Riona at the company Christmas party.

Itโ€™s been almost a year since then, so it seems unlikely to me that the guyโ€™s still holding a grudge. Worth running down every lead, though.

Dante and I drive out to his house in the Loop. Itโ€™s a pretty Tudor-style place on a tree-lined street. Looks nice enough from the exterior.

โ€œYou sure heโ€™s home?โ€ I ask Dante. โ€œIn the middle of the day?โ€ โ€œYeah,โ€ Dante says. โ€œI called him earlier.โ€

Despite that, it takes quite a while for Barker to answer the door after we knock. I hear the sound of something being knocked over in the hallway, and an irritated curse. Then he pulls the door open, still dressed in a bathrobe and looking bleary-eyed and unshaven.

โ€œWhat?โ€ he says. Then, on spotting Dante, โ€œOh, right. Come in.โ€

The inside of the house is a lot less well-maintained than the outside. It smells musty and stale, and half-eaten take out boxes litter the counters in the kitchen. A yappy little Yorkie runs around barking at our ankles. Barker says, โ€œShut up, ya little fucker!โ€ which the dog completely ignores.

The Yorkie is wearing a sparkling pink rhinestone collar. That, and the throw pillows on the couch that say โ€œLive, Laugh, Wineโ€ and โ€œCuddle Timeโ€ lead me to believe that a woman used to live here not too long ago. Probably not now, howeverโ€”when Barker opens his fridge, the only thing inside is a pizza box, a dozen bottles of Budweiser, and a bunch of condiment bottles.

โ€œYou want a drink?โ€ Barker says, taking a beer out for himself. Iโ€™m guessing itโ€™s not his first of the day.

โ€œSure,โ€ Dante says. Heโ€™s probably trying to seem friendly. Barker pops the caps off the beers and slides one over to Dante. โ€œIโ€™m good,โ€ I say.

Barker takes a long pull off his beer. He eyes us with narrowed, bloodshot eyes.

โ€œWhatโ€™s this all about?โ€ he says. โ€œYou know I donโ€™t work for Griffin, Briar, Weiss anymore.โ€

โ€œYeah,โ€ Dante says. โ€œI know that. I was wondering if you could tell me why they let you go?โ€

โ€œYou know why,โ€ Barker says.

โ€œNo,โ€ Dante replies calmly. โ€œI donโ€™t.โ€

โ€œBecause of that bitch,โ€ Barker says, taking a swig of his beer. The venom in his tone makes my heart rate spike.

โ€œAre you talking about Riona Griffin?โ€ I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

โ€œYeah. She was flirting with me all the time . . . couldnโ€™t keep her eyes off me. Then at the party, we both have a couple drinks. One thing leads to another . . . and then she goes crying to her uncle.โ€

I canโ€™t imagine Riona โ€œgoing cryingโ€ to anybody. And I also canโ€™t imagine her flirting with this sloppy sack of shit. Heโ€™s at least ten years older than her. And even if he were shaved and showered and dressed in a nice suit, heโ€™d still have that smug look on his face that I know would rub her the wrong way.

โ€œWhat do you mean by โ€˜one thing led to another?โ€™ โ€ I say, through gritted teeth.

Dante glances over at me. He can tell Iโ€™m getting pissed.

Barker doesnโ€™t seem to notice. He takes another swig of his beer.

โ€œYou know,โ€ he says. โ€œWeโ€™re talking, having drinks . . . sheโ€™s wearing this low-cut dress. Every time she moves, I can see the top of her tits, and she knows I can see it. She acts all uptight, but you know what redheads are like

. . . theyโ€™re all fuckinโ€™ animals in the sack. So sheโ€™s all like, โ€˜Excuse me,โ€™ and walks over to the bathrooms, and I can see the way sheโ€™s walking, shakinโ€™ her ass, she definitely wants me to follow her. So I do, and I shove her in the bathroom and pull up her skirt andโ€”โ€œ

I donโ€™t know at what point in the story I snap, but the next thing I know, my hands are around Barkerโ€™s throat and Iโ€™ve flung him up against the

refrigerator. Iโ€™m choking the fucking life out of him and heโ€™s gagging and sputtering and trying to pry my fingers off his neck.

The fact that this arrogant piece of shit thought that Riona was interested in him, the fact that he followed her into the bathroom and put his hands on her . . . it makes me want to murder him. Just snuff him out of this world.

Danteโ€™s pulling me off Barker, shouting, โ€œLong Shot, take it easy!โ€

I release my grip on Barkerโ€™s throat just a littleโ€”enough that he can talk.

โ€œDid you hire somebody to come after her?โ€ I snarl. โ€œWere you trying to get even, because she got you fired?โ€

โ€œShe didnโ€™t just get me fired!โ€ Barker spits, still trying to pry my hands off his neck. โ€œMy wife left me, too! Sheโ€™s divorcing me! She cleared out the bank account and took my car and left me with this fuckinโ€™ dog!โ€

โ€œDid you hire someone to kill Riona?โ€ I roar in his face. โ€œWhat? No!โ€ Barker sputters. โ€œAre you insane?โ€

I squeeze his throat a little harder, lifting his feet up off the kitchen tile. โ€œWhy not?โ€ I snarl. โ€œShe ruined your life, right?โ€

โ€œEven if I wanted to, I donโ€™t have any fuckinโ€™ money!โ€ Barker chokes, his face turning puce. โ€œPlus the Griffins . . . โ€

His voice trails off, โ€˜cause heโ€™s not getting enough air. I have to relax my grip again so he can speak.

โ€œWhat?โ€ I say. โ€œWhat about the Griffins?โ€

โ€œTheyโ€™re fuckinโ€™ . . . mafia,โ€ he says hoarsely. โ€œI was pissed. But Iโ€™m not suicidal.โ€

I let go of Barker. He rubs his throat dramatically, coughing and wheezing. I can see the imprints of my fingers on his neck. I donโ€™t feel bad about it. Iโ€™d like to do a whole lot worse to him.

Dante looks at Barker, gasping dramatically on the floor. The guy looks pathetic as hell. Itโ€™s pretty clear that he canโ€™t even clear out his pizza boxes,

let alone plot revenge against Riona. โ€œLetโ€™s go,โ€ Dante says to me.

โ€œYeah, get the fuck out,โ€ Barker says petulantly. โ€œYou fuckinโ€™ psychopaths. Drinking my beer then trying to kill me.โ€

I turn around, ready to leave Barkerโ€™s musty house.

As I take three steps away from him, I hear Barker mutter, โ€œI hope somebody does off that uppity bitch.โ€

I turn around and clock himโ€”a right cross straight to the jaw. It slams him into the fridge, and he slumps down on the tiles, knocked out cold.

When I face Dante again, heโ€™s watching me, eyebrows raised. โ€œYou okay?โ€ he says.

โ€œOf course.โ€ I shake out my right hand. โ€œWhy wouldnโ€™t I be?โ€ โ€œI donโ€™t think he had anything to do with hiring the Djinn.โ€ โ€œNeither do I. But heโ€™s still an asshole.โ€

The Yorkie is running around our feet again, barking, but not at usโ€”just yapping in general. It doesnโ€™t seem too concerned about its owner slumped down on the floor over by the fridge. In fact, it runs into the living room and pees against the leg of the coffee table, without a care in the world.

Once weโ€™re outside in the chilly air again, Dante takes a deep breath. โ€œThatโ€™s better.โ€

โ€œHeโ€™s a mess,โ€ I grunt. โ€œI doubt a shit-stain like Barker has the gumption to hire the Djinn. Or the money to pay him, if what he said about his wife cleaning out the bank accounts was true. If it wasnโ€™t Barker, and it wasnโ€™t the Russians, that only leaves the Hartford family.โ€

โ€œYeah.โ€ Dante nods slowly. โ€œOnly problem is, I donโ€™t exactly want to threaten them. Theyโ€™ve been through enough already.โ€

โ€œWe donโ€™t have to go in guns blazing,โ€ I say.

โ€œYeah?โ€ Dante cocks an eyebrow at me. โ€œYou gonna be chill this time?โ€ โ€œOf course,โ€ I say, shrugging off his look. โ€œIโ€™m fine.โ€

Iโ€™m not fine, though. I donโ€™t know what the fuck that was in thereโ€”I completely lost my temper. Thatโ€™s twice in two days.

Maybe Iโ€™m not cut out for this bodyguard life. Iโ€™m getting overly invested. All wrapped up in this thing with a level of emotion that isnโ€™t usual for me.

As we get back into the car, my phone buzzes with a text from my brother:

You missed momโ€™s birthday. And the anniversary.

He means the anniversary of our dadโ€™s death. It happened only two days apart from Momโ€™s birthday, so itโ€™s always a hard time of year for her.

I text him back:

I called her.

A pause, then he replies:

Calling isnโ€™t the same as visiting.

I havenโ€™t been home in a while. Almost three years. But whoโ€™s counting.

I can picture the ranch as clear as the busy Chicago streets right in front of me. I can see the stands of birch trees, and almost smell the scent of clean hay and warm horseflesh.

I feel a pull to be in a warmer, greener place than here.

But I also feel a deep sorrow and shame at the thought of visiting home. So I text back:

Iโ€™m on a job right now.

Grady fires back:

Youโ€™re always on a job.

Thereโ€™s a pause where he waits for me to respond. When I donโ€™t, he texts again:

Mom hurt her foot. Sheโ€™s getting too old to do this full time. We need to talk about what weโ€™re gonna do with the ranch . . .

I turn my phone off and stuff it in my pocket, annoyed. โ€œProblem?โ€ Dante says.

โ€œNo.โ€ I shake my head. โ€œNo problem at all.โ€

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