Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

SPENCER

B eing confused as to how I got in bed is not an experience I want to repeat. The last thing I remember is finger banging myself in front of the man that makes me want to punch things while he came all over my chest. It was the single hottest moment of my life, but he doesn’t need to know that. In fact, I would prefer it if he never found out.

But the real question is, how did I get a shirt and panties on?

I have chosen to ignore that question and pretend it never existed, because like Asher said, “it’s still complicated,” therefore I see no reason in mentioning that last night happened.

Today is a gallery day, so I got dressed in my usual work get-up. I begrudgingly took a little extra time with my makeup and hair this morning, but that’s only because Zane turned off my alarm and I missed out on my morning run, again .

My sour mood was quickly remedied when I left the bathroom and the sweet aroma of waffles, bacon, and eggs filled my nose. Rio had run out for breakfast, and Zane ran downstairs and got my favorite coffee. For a few minutes I allowed myself to envision my life if I stayed. If Anthony didn’t exist. Rio, Zane, and I would live happily here, eat meals together, never cook, and have movie nights. I have more space in this apartment than I know what to do with, or maybe we’d buy a house outside the city and commute to work together every day.

Would Asher live with us? Would he want to?

As quickly as the picture appeared, it vanished. It’s a fairytale, just a dream, not real.

Now I’m in the real world with Iris going over numbers, marketing strategies, and emails from artists who want to display their work. All the while Asher sits in a chair with his arms folded, looking even more grumpy than yesterday. Why he’s grumpy in the first place, I have no idea. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy himself last night.

I sigh and remind myself that I’m not responsible for his mood. I can’t control how he feels. That is his choice.

My day can’t get any worse.

Famous last words. The universe loves proving me wrong, a fact that I’m reminded of when Lance walks in.

He’s dressed to impress. Well, I assume he believes his outfit would impress someone, but that someone isn’t me. It’s also not Iris, judging by her muffled laugh. He’s wearing a beige suit with an ivory shirt, the top few buttons undone, leaving all of our eyes with an awful view of his hairless chest. He has a fresh spray tan and his nails are perfectly manicured. In his hands he has a large bouquet of pink roses.

“Hello, Spencer. Don’t you look lovely today!” The way my skin crawls is impossible to ignore.

“Hi, Lance. What can I do for you?” Asher perks up at my reply.

“Some lovely flowers for a lovely woman.” Lance hands over the obscenely large bundle. It’s so tall, I can barely see over the top. Little does Lance know, I’m not a fan of roses.

“Ew. Don’t ever say that again,” Iris says.

Lance turns his nose up at Iris. “They’re not for you, so your input is not needed here. Run along.”

I drop the bouquet on the desk and glare at him. “Do not speak to her that way.”

“I think it’s time you leave, Lance Richards.” Lance’s shoulders tense at Asher’s gruff tone. I don’t know how I missed Asher standing right behind Lance.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Ms. Gray’s bodyguard.” Asher shoots me a grin.

“It’s fine, Asher. I’m sure Lance was just going to have a quick look around and then be on his way,” Lance narrows his eyes at Asher and walks to a painting on the back wall. “Lance is harmless.”

“I don’t like him.” His words are for me, but his stare doesn’t leave Lance.

“I’m with Viking Hottie on this,” Iris adds.

My stomach grumbles just as Zane strolls through the door with a brown paper bag that smells like garlic, marinara, and grilled chicken.

“Hey, Angel. I brought lunch,” he beams at me. He breaks eye contact with me for a moment to nod at Asher who tilts his head towards Lance. Zane follows Asher’s gesture, and his eyes turn hard.

There should be a book on this shit, How to Decipher the Grunts and Gestures of Cavemen .

“Lance Richards,” Zane seethes.

How do they both know his name?

I ignore their ridiculousness and a megawatt smile breaks out across my face. “You’re a God among mere mortals, Zane Kingston.”

I make my way to him ready to hug him, but pause when I remember the other night. I don’t want to trigger him. He doesn’t need his past making itself known right now.

Sensing what I want, Zane sets the bag down on the ground and guides my arms around his neck then wraps his around my waist. Pulling me close so our bodies are pressed together he brings his head down and inhales. My heart flutters as he takes in my scent like it’s the only thing he wants to breathe for the rest of his life. With my elevated height I can rest my head on his shoulder, but when I do, I spot a man standing awkwardly just inside the door behind Zane.

“Oh, hi! Welcome to Abstract Dreams.”

Zane turns, resting an arm across my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Angel, this is my partner. Detective Liam James.”

This detective looks like a kid. His innocent appearance is magnified by the way his mouth is hanging open, staring at the arm slung around my shoulders. Ignoring his shock, I go to step forward only to be pulled back by Zane. I elbow him in the side, causing him to grunt then chuckle, and finally step away with my hand stretched forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Liam. I’m Spencer Gray.”

He recovers clumsily and grasps my hand with a firm shake. “You too, Spencer,” he says with a tight smile.

“Are you staying for lunch?”

Liam flashes me an easy smile that reminds me of Hayes and says, “Not today. I just wanted to get a peek at the gallery. I’m going to walk down the street to the gyro stand on the corner.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to impose.”

“Feel free to bring your food back here and eat. We have a huge break room in the back.”

As he turns to walk out, Rio bursts through the door. “Hey, Mama! Did you miss me?” He walks right up to me and plants a tender kiss on my cheek that contrasts his obnoxious mood. “Ooo! Z! Did you bring me lunch too?”

Zane rolls his eyes at Rio, but nods in affirmation.

“Oh! You must be the new partner. I’m Rio, the best friend and roommate.”

Liam cocks his head to the side as if he’s trying to figure Rio out.

Good luck with that.

Liam introduces himself and shakes Rio’s hand. All four of us begin chatting, ignoring the food that is going cold and get to know Liam a little. Asher eventually saunters over but hangs back by the desk. For a brief moment things feel normal, and I can pretend that all's right within our little bubble.

But those moments never last.

You know when it feels like time slows right before something big happens? A moment of complete mental clarity. A moment before your world shatters. Literally.

One minute we’re talking and laughing and then comes a loud pop, pop, pop . Glass explodes inward across the front of the gallery.

Zane turns to me with wide, panicked eyes and moves as if to lunge toward me, but his shoulder jerks and he falls on his back.

“Zane!” I scream, but no one hears. I can’t even hear myself. My shout is drowned out by what I realize is rapid gunfire.

Peering out to the street, ice rolls down my spine when I see the person driving the car with two guns held out the windows. Pierce Murphy. I knew even back when I first met him that his chilling blue eyes always held violence in them. The type of violence that would decimate anyone in its path then he’d mock the aftermath.

He gives me a slow wink and a wide smile. A smile that on anyone else would make me swoon, but on him, it’s terrifying.

A scream causes me to turn my back to the windows. I start to shout at Iris to hide, but Asher is already there diving over the desk and tackling her to the floor.

“Spencer, get down!” I don’t know how I hear Rio yell over the sound of bullets. It’s almost like he whispered directly in my ear. When I whip around to Rio, his arm is outstretched ready to pull us to the ground, but he sinks down to one knee, his face twisted in pain.

I take a step towards him ready to save us both, but before I can take another step the wind is knocked out of me as the side of my body connects the hardwood floors.

“Stay down!” the man above me shouts. Liam. I blink and his gun is out as he spins around on his knees and returns fire. My ears are already ringing, so the sound of his gun firing doesn’t affect my already damaged eardrums.

When Liam lowers his weapon, all the breath returns to my lungs. I shoot up to a sitting position as the blood drains from my face. My gaze shoots around the destroyed room unable to truly focus on a single thing.

“Z, get back here!”

My head snaps and I see Zane sprinting through the shattered windows and down the sidewalk with his gun in hand.

“Spencer? Spencer, look at me, Mama.”

Two hands hold my head and turn it to the side. I try to scurry backwards, but I’m met with soft chocolate eyes and the tightness in my chest eases a little.

“Are you hurt?”

My eyes are blank and my brain isn’t able to formulate words to answer him.

Rio checks me all over. “A few cuts and scrapes, but nothing serious,” he lets out a breath of relief. “You’re okay. You’re not hurt. I’m right here.”

A whimper escapes my lips and Rio pulls me into him. I settle my hand on his thigh and he lets out a small hiss. I jerk back, looking down at my hand I see smears of deep red across my palm. I realize he’s hurt and I know I need to get my shit together.

“Rio! You’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine, Spence. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing! You were shot!” My breaths come quickly now causing a black haze to creep into my vision, blurring the world around me.

“Hey, hey,” Rio’s hand lifts my chin and his other rests over my hammering heart. “I’m okay. We’re all fine. I need you to breathe, Mama.”

There’s another boom and I flinch, this time it’s the metal door leading to Clay Creations cracking against the wall with Hayes standing in the doorway. “Iris!”

Asher lifts Iris in a bridal hold and hands her over to Hayes when he makes it across the room. Hayes settles them in the computer chair behind the desk and whispers peace in her ear as she sobs.

Before long I’m being lifted into a set of thick tattooed arms and resting against a hard chest. My big guy. He doesn’t offer sweet words or empty promises. He gives me what he can, comforting me with his body. Asher nuzzles his face in my neck and breaths deep.

I draw my head back when I peek over Asher’s shoulder and notice a familiar beige suit laying limp on the ground covered in red.

Lance?

“Oh God,” I whimper.

“Shhh. Don’t look, Princess.” Asher guides my face so it’s nestled in his chest, obstructing my view.

Sirens are audible in the distance as we stay like that until Zane walks back through the devastation of the gallery with Liam on his heels.

“They got away, but we got a make and model on the car and Liam got one of the shooters in his hand,” Zane reports.

“I saw three of them. One driver, two shooters,” Liam adds.

“Same,” Zane agrees.

Three people. It only took three people to destroy what I hold dear. My safe space.

Two shooters. One driver. Sixty seconds. That’s all it took.