Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

RIO

L ater that night after Zane and I had both gone to bed, I hear the garage door open. My room is on the second floor, but my hearing has always been sharp. When you have five younger sisters, you need that superhuman ability.

I peek out my window that faces the front and see Zane’s car pull out with the lights off and drive away.

Was that his attempt at stealth? Pathetic. He knows better than to think I didn’t just see him. And he knows better than to go out on a hunt alone, so this better be something else.

I jump out of bed and rush down the stairs. I’m only in sweats, but I don’t care. I slide my feet into my tennis shoes and jog to the garage. Hopping in Asher’s Camaro, the engine turns over and lets out a nice purr. Ash hates it when I use his car if it’s not necessary. I’m going to consider this an emergency, so I’m sure he won’t mind. Always better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

Z has a head start, but that’s okay. We put trackers in his and Ash’s cars in case of an emergency. I pull the app up on my phone and see that he’s disabled the tracker.

Fucking pendejo .

Zane may be extraordinarily talented when it comes to technology, but that genius level brain clearly wasn’t smart enough to find the second tracker I put in his car over a month ago.

I follow the dot on my screen until I’m around the corner from his car. I chuckle to myself when I realize where we are. I park Ash’s car a block away and jog the remaining distance. It’s difficult to sneak up on any of us. We’ve trained ourselves to always be aware of our surroundings. You kind of have to be when you have a hobby like ours.

That being said, I’m somehow able to get the drop on him. I open the passenger door to his Honda Civic, and he immediately goes for his Glock. I wrap my hand over his before he can get far and slam it down on the center console.

“You’re getting soft, amigo .”

Nostrils flare and his hands clench, ready for a fight. The thought of some action has my blood pumping.

My comment grates on him. He brings his left fist around aiming for my face.

Not the moneymaker. Come on.

I easily block his attempt and goad him further.

“That’s it? You can do better.” I know he’s angry he got caught and I’m trying to not let it get to me that he didn’t tell me in the first place, but I’m more upset that I didn’t think to do this myself.

He twists my left hand that’s still on his and pulls free. Swinging the gun back in my direction, I grab his wrist and aim the barrel towards the ceiling.

Zane would never actually shoot me. I think.

Hand tensed and flat, I aim for his throat but he grabs my wrist and twists my arm at an angle that makes me lean. Without hesitation, Zane pulls his hands towards himself bringing me with them and thrusts his head towards my nose. I turn my face just in time, and his head crashes into my cheekbone.

Not wanting to take it any further, we drop our hands. The only sound in the car is our rapid breathing from the quick spar.

“Where the fuck is your shirt?”

“Didn’t have time to put one on when you snuck out like a teenage girl meeting her boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that. I’m not your sisters.”

“You’re right, you’re nothing like my sisters. You weren’t sneaky at all. Solana would have left her window open all day so she could avoid making any sound at night. Elena would be too busy to even attempt sneaking out. Carmen would’ve just walked out the front door not giving a shit. And Mariela would have snuck the guy inside.”

“Point taken.” That’s basically another way of saying you’re right , which I fucking am.

He huffs a breath and says, “I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

“With your perv binoculars?”

“She does yoga at night,” he says nonchalantly as if it explains it all. And it kind of does.

Spencer all bendy? I’ll take a front row seat please.

“Give me those creeper peepers.”

We fight over the binoculars like a pair of toddlers battling for their favorite toy. I finally yank them from his grasp and put them to good use. Can’t say I have ever watched a woman through her windows, but there’s a first for everything.

I finally spot her through her very large, open window. We’re going to have a little chat about that. A crazy person might see that as an invitation. Or two crazy persons.

Zane was right. She’s stretching. No wonder I was able to surprise him. I can’t focus on anything but her. She’s wearing a sports bra that barely contains her perfectly shaped breasts and matching tiny shorts, if they can even be called that. They’re more like a second skin with the way they are molded to her hips and ass. An ass I would love to grip with both hands.

Please fuck me.

I should feel ashamed. I should put the binoculars away and force Zane and myself to go home, but I don’t.

“ Mierda… ” I whisper as my dick hardens in my sweats.

It’s a good thing I’m wearing sweats. Jeans would be very uncomfortable right now. “Were you here last night too?” My question is met with silence.

“In this exact spot? No. I was a few feet further down,” he gives a noncommittal shrug. “She lives alone. I just wanted to make sure she got home okay.”

“Yeah, the couple steps from Clay Creations to her apartment door sure are treacherous.” I’m giving him a hard time and I know it.

When I look back through the binoculars, Spencer is staring out the window. She looks lost and alone. So very alone. Her eyes are begging, begging us to make her feel less empty.

I’m here, Mama.

She shuts her curtains and the lights go out. Then I get it, I get why he didn’t tell me.

Z has always had more of a conscience than me. Doctors told my mom I needed to be hospitalized when I was younger. I was “crazy.” They said I was a sociopath. I had kicked dumbass Tommy Fowler until three of his ribs broke for reaching his hand down Elena’s dress when she was twelve and he was fourteen. I would have kept kicking if a teacher hadn’t pulled me off of him. My lack of remorse scared everyone, but I considered it protecting my family. I always will. My mom wasn’t scared, she fully accepted the side of me that is darker than the shadows of night. The side that likes the pain I viciously gift to those who deserve it.

Now, after witnessing the shit Z, Ash, and I have all seen—the shit that one human is willing to do to another to make a buck—things like morals go right out the window. Zane still has some, that's why he was hiding this nighttime activity. Ash might have a few left too. But I have none. We don’t just dabble in the gray area of life. We paint it red.

I lean the seat back and get comfortable. “Do you have an extra pair?” I’m answered with a punch to the arm and the binoculars are ripped from me. “What the fuck?”

“Those are mine. If you wanted some, should’ve grabbed them from the house.”

He’s not wrong.

“Don’t hog my new teacher all to yourself. Sharing is caring, amigo .” I let my double meaning hang in the air.

A growl erupts from his throat. “She’s not some piece of ass we’ll share for a night, Rio.”

“I know that,” I punch him back in the arm and he grunts. “Talk to me.”

Relief washes over me when he finally gives me what I’ve been digging for. “She’s different. I touched her.”

I blink at him a few times in disbelief. Z doesn’t let any woman touch him, which is difficult when you live and work in New York, but he’s found little ways around it, even in the bedroom. We avoid all the tourist traps like the plague. He drives instead of taking the subway, and he doesn’t even shake hands with coworkers. Some people make comments and say shit, but they usually find themselves on the receiving end of mine or Ash’s fists.

“I can tell she’s different. That’s okay. I think she’s different too.” My words don’t bring him comfort. He still won’t look me in the eye.

He doesn’t speak so I do what I know will bring him comfort. I kiss him. I grab his face with both hands and don’t hold back. He opens to me immediately. I pour every ounce of acceptance I have with each swipe of my tongue. He needs to know I’m still here and I always will be. Zane returns the kiss with desperation like he’s afraid he’ll lose me, but that will never happen.

Our lips part and with my forehead resting against his, I reassure him with my words. “I’m here. We’re good. I promise.”

I sigh and realize I need sleep. I swipe my fluffy eye mask from my pocket and tell Zane, “I’m tired, wake me when you’re ready to switch. Sharing also means we share the load to protect her.” I slip on the mask to block out the annoying light from the nearby lamppost.

Before I fall asleep, I say, “And bring some snacks next time. I’m fucking hungry.”

What I don’t say, is that I also want Spencer.