Carnage by Sarah Bailey

Seven

Prescott

Scarlett scurried down the hallway after Drake, leaving me to rub my thumb across my bottom lip. They weren’t lying when they said she was beautiful. Scarlett had grown into her figure a little too well. Her hazel-green eyes still held the spark in them I’d grown so fond of all those years ago. The one which told me she was up for getting into mischief. I knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security around her, no matter how familiar she felt to me.

I’d wanted to talk to her more. To see if she still had her sharp wit. I wanted to fucking well see if she remembered anything. A single damn thing. And yet I knew deep down she didn’t. Not seeing the recognition in her eyes cut me in a way I hadn’t been expecting. It was one thing to know someone wouldn’t remember you, and another to experience it. And fuck if it hadn’t got to me. The urge to slam my fist through the wall drove through me, but I took a breath instead.

Stay calm. Stay focused. Stick to the plan.

I watched her and Drake enter the office, which would be hers when Annika left in two weeks. He glanced back at me with a warning stare. As if telling me to back the fuck off. Like I ever listened when any of them attempted to warn me to keep my distance. If I wanted something, I’d have it.

However, I wasn’t as bad as West. He had the worst impulse control out of the four of us. Last night he’d come home high as a fucking kite. Fuck knows what he was on, but the three of us had wrestled him into bed to sleep it off. I had a feeling he’d got fucked up because Scarlett was starting today. Tonight would probably be worse. A whole lot worse.

Sighing, I walked into Drake’s office. I hadn’t only wanted to see Scarlett. I also needed him to get Francis to stop being such a tight arse over funding. It’s not as if we couldn’t afford it. Right now, we needed to expand to cover up all the other shit we were doing. It meant spending a little more than we had planned. And landing some more prestigious clients too. I had my eye on the owners of the Syndicate now we’d secured the Bykov account. It was running smoothly, no thanks to West almost screwing shit up.

I stood by the window and stared out over the city. Drake was right about this being my playground. I loved to see the world going about its day-to-day business, blissfully unaware of the dangers which lurked above them. Namely me and my three best friends. Yes, we ran our business above the law most of the time, but the other shit we had a hand in? Not so much.

My thoughts drifted back to her. The way she’d smelt like caramel with a hint of cinnamon. She’d always loved the smell of cinnamon. It didn’t come as a surprise she wore a spiced scent as opposed to something more floral. It suited her. Hell, everything she’d been wearing suited her, accentuating her waist and drawing my eyes to all of her curves.

Fuck, I want to hold her close, look into those hazel-green eyes and remind her who I am to her. Who we all are to her.

I couldn’t. It wasn’t part of the plan. And I would not be the one to derail it. The loose cannon in our merry band was West, not me. I had to keep my shit under control. I could do it. If only she didn’t smell so good. If she didn’t look so damn good. If only I didn’t feel a fucking stirring in my damn chest and lower. I wasn’t going to let a woman trip me up into losing control. I didn’t allow anyone that sort of power over me. They bowed at my fucking feet, not the other way around.

Except you’d worship her if you had half the chance. It just wouldn’t be the type of worshipping you did in church. It would be sinful. Deviant. Immoral.

“What the fuck was that?” came Drake’s voice as he walked in.

“Whatever do you mean?”

I turned, finding him glaring at me.

“I told you I’d take her around to introduce her to everyone this afternoon.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

They’d all seen her already. It was my fucking turn.

“Oh, and could you also not keep your fucking eyeballs in their sockets too?”

I smiled. No, I definitely couldn’t. It’d been long enough. Too many years we’d had to be patient and bide our goddamn time.

She’s ours. She fucking well belongs here with us.

I didn’t need to remind him. He knew it as well as I did.

“What exactly are you so pissed off about? Perhaps it’s because you’ve noticed she’s a woman now and you don’t like the fact the rest of us have. Is that it?”

Drake glared, shoving his hands in his pockets and paced away.

“No.”

“Don’t start lying to me now, Drake. You might be able to fool the whole world with your indifference, but not me. Never me.”

“Fuck off, Pres.”

I rolled my eyes. Drake hated talking about his feelings to anyone. He didn’t like admitting to having any weaknesses, but we all knew about his inability to sleep. We all knew what haunted him. I wasn’t going to let him bullshit me.

“You’re as bad as West.”

He stopped, glancing at me with a frown.

“Don’t compare me to him.”

I shrugged, knowing I hit a nerve. West could be a sick, sadistic piece of shit, only he didn’t hide it behind a mask of civility like Drake. West put it all out there. Drake didn’t like to show the world his true colours, but we’d seen them. Me, Francis and West. We’d seen each other at our worst. None of us were immune to our darkest urges. In fact, we didn’t give a shit who got caught in the crossfire when it came to indulging ourselves in them. Anyone who threatened to talk about one of us didn’t stay breathing for very long. We had our reputation for a reason. And we were fucking untouchable because of it.

“No? You not going to ask why I’m doing it?”

He let out a huff.

“Fine, I’ll bite. Why?”

I flicked my hand out.

“He won’t admit to his little crush, nor how fucked up he is now she’s back. Or did you forget he used to follow her around like a puppy dog?”

Drake lifted his hand and rubbed his chin, grazing along the scruff he had there.

“Jesus, that’s why he was high last night. Fuck, we need to get him under control or we’ll end up with a bloodbath on our hands… again.”

I shuddered. Whilst I wasn’t squeamish, the shit West had done to our enemies could turn even the strongest of stomachs.

“You suggesting we cut him off? If so, count me out. I am not dealing with him when he’s sober. He’s bad enough drunk and fucked off his head on pills.”

Drake looked thoughtful for a long moment.

“It would take all three of us, but no… I’m not suggesting that at all.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You going to enlighten me then?”

His lips curved upwards. A rare sight for Drake to smile about something.

“I think we should give West what he wants, what all of us want, don’t you?”

It took me a second to realise what he was getting at. And I was pretty sure Drake had lost the plot.

“You’re not serious.”

“Why not, Pres? You afraid of the repercussions?”

“It’s not what we planned.”

His smile grew wider.

“Plans change. You can’t deny it’s tempting, is it not?”

“Try telling that to Francis. I reckon he’d have something to say about it.”

Francis would hit the fucking roof. The repressed shit needed to live a little. He was as fucked up as the rest of us, only he denied it completely, preferring to be the ‘nice one’. Francis wasn’t nice. He wasn’t kind and thoughtful. In fact, I’d go as far as to say he had tendencies that were as fucked up as me and Drake. None of us could compare ourselves to West. He was in a league of his own.

“Let me handle him.”

“I don’t think West is going to agree either… the last time I brought it up, he almost bit my head off.”

“Then we’ll have to persuade him.”

I shook my head.

“What happened to being good boys for Little Nyx?”

He showed me his teeth before he bit his lip.

“We’ve never been good boys, Pres. It’s time Little Nyx found that out, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t help smiling back.

“You really are sick in the head.” I gave him a nod. “Count me in.”