The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy #2) - Tijan by Tijan

He didn’t make me wait.

He turned and announced, “Okay. So. I’m going to fuck either Fleur or Cedar this weekend. I’m assuming that’s why you invited them, for me.”

He would’ve been right, but I hadn’t been thinking that. Not exactly.

“I wanted you to know. It’s not a slap in your face, but I’m not coupling up with anyone here, and I either fuck, get blitzed out of my fucking mind, or raise holy hell to distract myself from doing what I really want. I’m trying to play it smart, so that means I gotta fuck. And a lot. I’m probably going to do them dirty.”

I winced. “You do not need to share all of that. Trust me.”

“I am trusting you, that’s why I’m telling you. If they get in your face about something, just know the real deal. It’s just fucking. That’s it. I’m not going to be nice to them. There’ll be no promises from me. They’ll know the score is straight sex. I’m giving you a heads-up.”

“Great.”

Another clipped nod from him. “So I’m going to go.”

“Right.” And to be a smartass: “Thanks.”

He shot me a grin before opening the door and saluting Erik. “She’s all yours to guard.”

He was gone and Erik was still standing there. He looked at me through the opened door. “He’s in a mood.”

Yes. Yes, he was.

I was missing Kash all of a sudden, more than I had been before.

I wanted him to call me. I wanted him to fly here. I wanted him to crawl into bed with me.

I wanted to be standing in his arms right then and there.

But I wasn’t, and that was just how the cards fell.





THIRTY-NINE



Kash


I had a gun pointed at my face, and I was not happy.

We flew from Chicago to Greece, one layover, and I had to endure Victoria the entire flight. And now, an hour into our arrival, Griogos Maragos had a gun six inches from my forehead.

I moved before anyone else could.

I saw the gun barrel and then red, just a whole ton of red. The next instant I was standing over Griogos’s body, his gun in my hand and his barrel six inches from his forehead.

He lay completely still, his usually dark tan an uncharacteristic pallor, and an odd smell that told me he’d pissed his pants was filling the room. That all flashed in my mind, but I simply did. Not. Care.

“You point a gun at me?” I growled, bending down, pressing the end of the muzzle against his skin.

“Kashton!” he choked out, throwing his hand up as if to ward off a bullet. “Please. Don’t. I have family.”

“I’m aware.” I pushed it harder against him, hoping I broke skin. My nostrils flared. I wanted to smell his blood in the air instead, but he just stayed there, frozen, pissing himself. “I came over here as a courtesy visit. I could’ve sent men to do my bidding, but I brought your granddaughter with me. I wanted her to hear how fucked you are.” I ground the gun barrel into his forehead again, and this time a trickle of blood seeped out.

Satisfaction.

“Now, tell her.”

I was jumping the gun here. Pun not intended.

I didn’t care. I got word twelve hours ago how heavily in debt Griogos was to my grandfather.

“Does your granddaughter know she has another aunt?”

Victoria gasped. “What?”

“You used his companies to traffic women for my grandfather.” Not asking. Telling.

Griogos started weeping. “Please. Please! Don’t—”

“You’ve been doing it since Victoria was a baby, and the only time you tried to stop was when her father begged you to find another transport company.”

“He’s going to kill my oikogéneia. Please. I am begging you.” A hiccup. More sobbing.

His family. He really thought I believed he cared about his family. He hadn’t once looked at his granddaughter.

“So you went to my grandfather and you said the same words to him. ‘Please. I am begging you.’”

He flinched, his head moving under my gun barrel as he was giving up. He was folding.

“He blackmailed you with a video of you with an underage prostitute that you had trafficked over to the States for him.” Now I asked, because he had to say the words. Victoria had to hear him admit his guilt. “Didn’t you?”

He had moved to lie on his side, his knees pulled to his chest. He was in a fetal position.

His head was down. His eyes closed. He almost had a blissful look on his face.

I straightened, still holding his own gun but pointing at him from a distance. “Tell your granddaughter the truth.”

He opened his eyes.

He whispered, “You don’t get it. Your men are good, but they’re not that good, because my granddaughter already knows.” Now he looked at her, a deep apology flashing over his face, mixed with sorrow and regret. And shame. So much shame that it lined his every word.

I turned.

Time slowed.

I felt a shift.

Something was coming.

A curveball.

I didn’t want to see when I looked, but I couldn’t stop from looking.

There. On her face. Guilt.

Victoria knew.

Griogos kept talking. “She didn’t know all of it, but she knew enough. Enough where it wasn’t only her aunt that I was prostituting.”