Devious Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 2) Read online

  Devious Eyes

  A Cane Novel 2

  Rachel De Lune

  Charlotte E. Hart

  Contents

  Title

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Innocent Eyes

  Also By Charlotte E. Hart

  Also by Rachel De Lune

  About Rachel

  About Charlotte

  ©All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.

  Devious Eyes is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  DEVIOUS EYES – A Cane Novel 2 ©2018 HartDeLune

  Charlotte E. Hart • Rachel De Lune

  Cover Design by Rachel De Lune

  Book design by LJDesigns

  Editing by H.A. Robinson and Rox Leblanc

  Chapter Illustrations by L.J. Stock, LJDesigns

  eBook Formatting: L.J. Stock, LJDesigns

  Acknowledgments

  These last six months have been such an experience. Innocent Eyes was so well received that Charlotte and I had no choice but to stop what we were doing and write Devious Eyes!! And I had the joy of encouraging her to plan or at least follow the plan as much as she can. Always easier said than done! But, as much as Charlotte threatens my chapter plans and neat boxes, she makes me a better writer with her spontaneous ways. I love this woman. She’s more than a writing partner. She’s become a lifelong friend who I’m privileged to have in my life.

  We often see posts about how wonderful the writing community is. Well, we agree wholeheartedly. Devious Eyes simply wouldn’t be in existence without some very special people. Lea, Katie and Jodie, thank you so much for giving us your time and feedback. It’s so valuable to us, even if you might upset Charlotte along the way!

  Heather and Rox, you make our words shine. Thank you. Lou, you are amazing and make everything look so gorgeous. You always go above and beyond. We appreciate every ounce of your skill. And Bare Naked Words, thank you for your continued support and help to deliver Devious Eyes to everyone.

  Above all though, we have the readers to thank because you loved what we created as HartDeLune. We hope you enjoy Nate as much as we have!

  By the time Rachel and I thought about doing a second Novel, we were both knee deep in other projects. However, she's so good at planning me into oblivion that once we started, we couldn't stop. Such is Cane life - madly addictive. So, huge thanks go out to her for performing the unbelievable and making me plot and plan. Ish. Sort of. Well done her, frankly.

  Chapter One

  Andreas stands beside me, puffing his chest and crossing his arms in some sort of masculine pissing contest. I roll my eyes, before laying the case on the table in front of the man who’s waiting for it. Inside are two pouches of brilliant cut diamonds—the genuine article, as long as the certificates can be produced. And they can. It’s the biggest deal I’ve been involved in and, thankfully, this will only occur a few times a year.

  I like to deal in significantly different diamond deals.

  The man standing on the other side of the table clicks the briefcase open, expectancy written all over his features. I lift both the pouches, handing one over as my heart beats loudly in my chest. I don’t like being here with my brother, but he insisted on this going forward. Lurking behind the scenes, a shadow that isn’t seen, is much more my style.

  My fingers itch to snatch the pouch back and take all the gems away. Nothing I’ve done for my brother in the past has been at this level, and I’m wondering if I should have said no. But that’s not the deal Andreas wants. And as usual, what Andreas wants, Andreas gets.

  There’s a pause for a moment as I begin handing over the second pouch. Everything around me goes still. No one talks, no movement, as if time takes a break and forgets to keep the seconds ticking over. I stare at the man, wondering what’s happening. Something’s wrong. My instincts kick in, warning me, and then time bursts back into action before I get a chance to move.

  A loud bang, like a gun, fires, scattering some of the men who were positioned around us. Then a run of clips and pops has even Andreas ducking behind me. I turn, watching as he backs away from me, and a swarm of men in black start advancing on our position. The vision has me looking around wildly at the chaos now pressing in on us, shots still being fired into the air. One pouch of diamonds is still clutched in my hand. The man opposite me has the same thought as me, only slower. He reaches for me, but I’ve grabbed the case with my free hand and swung the metal, clocking him square in the face before he has chance to grab hold of my diamonds. My feet turn, and I run from the warehouse towards the SUV I came in, desperate to escape whatever this has turned into.

  Andreas is already moving to his separate car, and I curse under my breath before I block him out and focus on getting out of this alive. Some brother. Although, why I expected anything different I don’t know. I duck, and hover on the back wall of the building, waiting for a clean line through the shots as the pops and clicks continue, until I finally get the break I need and launch across the forecourt.

  I jump inside my vehicle, glancing back one last time at the carnage I’ve left, and see men in masks reach the man I was dealing with. They take the diamonds and aim a gun at his head, no care for what they’re about to do. I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to witness his execution, and shove the car into reverse, stamp on the accelerator and tear away from the building.

  Three turns and I’m out onto a highway, focused forward, and filtering into traffic at speed. My eyes constantly flick to my rearview mirror, searching for any sign I’m being followed. I can’t see anything yet, but the racing of my heart has me gasping for breath as I try to calm my shaking limbs.

  Ten minutes on and I relax my grip on the wheel to release some blood flow back to my fingers. I’ve been driving in random directions, constantly changing roads and lanes, and now need to work out a plan. Something.

  I circle the docks a few more times and slow my speed, heading out of the city. I’ll double back before heading to an airport. Leaving is the only clear option I have for now, and disappearing is what I do anyway. For once, and given the threat and mess that’s just occurred, it’s more relevant than it’s ever been before.

  My mind skits over the visions of the gun fight and Andreas leaving without me, and I can’t control the shiver of fear that vibrates over my body. This is out of control, not my normal protocol at all, but the small pouch is nestled on the seat next to me, my go-bag in the footwell. I’m safe.

  I just need to co
me up with a plan to keep me that way.

  Chapter Two

  The doors burst open in front of me, and a man is shoved through them before I’ve set a foot on the ground. I look across at the guy and lock the car, watching for blood as he crawls his way towards me. Who the hell it is, I don’t know, but the footsteps echoing in the background are as familiar as they always are.

  At least this fuck isn’t dead. It’s progress.

  I slip out a smoke and wait for Quinn, mildly interested. He wanders out, not a damn care in the world for the damage he’s caused to this guy. I raise a brow at him and nod, smoke blowing out of my mouth into Chicago’s crisp November air.

  “You’re late,” he says, his hands reaching for the guy, so he can drag him further into the parking lot. The move’s as brutal as it always is when he’s riled about something, not one iota of compassion for any bone in his body. How the hell his little bitch puts up with those hands is indecipherable. “Should’ve been here twenty minutes ago.”

  “Yeah.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge my answer. He’s not even interested in it. He’s trying to contain his rage in the only way he knows how lately—talking. It’s never been a trait he’s put much effort into before. Act first, talk later.

  At least he’s trying.

  “One week, Devlin,” he snarls out, turning the lax body over and hauling him to a black Merc. “One week and I want what’s owed back in our accounts.”

  Ah, so this is Antony Devlin’s youngest son.

  “Go tell your father that before I use the gun to actually cause fucking harm to his family.”

  I snort and turn towards the office rather than watch the rest of the show. Five hundred grand isn’t worth my time. Quinn will deal with the last of our debtors in the only way they understand. Old school needs dealing with in an old school fashion sometimes, and this idiot’s family hasn’t paid one of the last few debts we’re owed.

  The corridors feel bare as I walk through them, bypassing the entrance to the club. It’s all as grey and monotonous as the weather. This all used to have constancy to it, dodgy runners hanging around discussing their next moves, all under the protection of Cane, but now it’s nothing but a safe haven for anyone on our side. Suited business lunches seem to have taken over from the old ways. And much as that might make me smile in some ways, feel safer even, which is what we all wanted, it adds to the lacking vibrancy of my life lately. Dull.

  The office is equally fucking empty when I get to it. Cold. Not that it ever felt welcoming, but something about Rody protecting the doorway all those years gave it an air of home, some link to my father and family connections. He’s gone now. Retired. And with my father dead, those links seem to have fragmented to old shadows and nothing more. I expected to enjoy it in some ways. We’ve tightened up. No threats, no problems, no concerns. I should be happy with that. Content. Every loose thread is tied off, so no one can come for us. We’re safe. Secure. I’m not surprised he’s restless.

  Even I’m bored.

  He eventually joins me and sits at his desk, a waft of whiskey coming with him and no conversation to break my current mood. We both open our laptops quietly. There’s nothing in either of them to discuss. I don’t even know why he wanted me here today, but it was apparently imperative, so I wait for whatever he’s got to say and start coding some data I didn’t get around to yesterday.

  After an hour, I eventually look up to find him staring at me, elbows on his chair and hands clasped beneath his chin. It’s a look strong enough to make me wonder what the hell he’s thinking about, one that only happens when a frustrated Quinn is about to say or do something reckless.

  “Whatever it is you’re thinking about, stop,” I mutter, pushing the laptop to the side and closing the lid quietly before reaching into my pocket. I flick out a smoke and light it, still watching him. “This is our life now. You wanted it. Asked for it. Boring or not.” I inhale and blow the smoke into the room, waiting for the real reason he brought me here. “If you’ve got something else to say, you better get on and say it, Quinn.” He drops his hands and reaches for his dice, obviously feeling the need to grind something. “What’s the problem?”

  “There isn’t one.” The hell there isn’t.

  He spins the dice quietly, the sound of them clunking together putting my teeth on edge like they always do. I run them over my bottom lip, trying to gauge his mood before I open my mouth again, but the very fact that he’s picked those damn dice up has me thinking all kinds of shit.

  “How’s Emily?” He looks up at me sharply, a scowl developing.

  “The fuck do you care?”

  I baulk at that, my own frown coming into play. After what she did he’s lucky I even tolerate her. “Fuck you.”

  He smirks a little and watches me frowning at him. “Still all Cane,” he snarks. The smile widens then, enough to make me drop the frown and shake my head at him. “Look at you still hiding in that suit, brother.”

  I sigh and take another pull on my smoke, trying to defuse whatever game he’s intent on playing with me. I’ve spent too long dealing with his games for this to work. He knows that. There isn’t a thing he could damn well do, or say, to get a rise out of me.

  “What are you trying not to tell me?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re hiding something, Quinn. Have been for a while. What?” He looks away from me and spins his dice again. I know my brother. I know his moods, his movements, his blow-outs. I’ve been dodging the arrogance for years, trying to work out his next move long before he knows it. “You’ve been different lately. Off. Like you’re keeping secrets. It’s not just the boredom.”

  He doesn’t answer. No sound at all. I know that answer well. It’s the one he uses when he’s up to something that should be nowhere near Cane anymore. “I can’t protect us if I don’t know, Quinn.”

  “You protect us?” He frowns at me and looks towards the window, a sneer crossing his lips to counter the smile that was there a few moments ago. “I protect us, and we’re losing power, Nate. What would you have me do?” Protect us from what? “You wouldn’t fucking know, would you? Head buried in the damn numbers, no fucking clue what’s happening in the real world around you. We’re weak, Nate.” He stands and crosses to the window, tipping the blinds down to peer out onto the street. “I’m weak.”

  I watch him for a while, calculating the risk of pushing the conversation further than he’s willing to go. He’s pissed about not being the biggest gun in town anymore. I know that. I’ve seen his drinking, the way he’s tried to neutralise his own need for power, but this is what he asked for. What the hell does he want from me?

  He moves back to the side table; a glug of whiskey being poured and downed. “They’re coming, Nate.” What? “Yakuza scum. They’re all over the damn place, syphoning money, taking what should be mine.” He looks over his shoulder at me, apathy entrenched. “Ours.”

  “Quinn, we’re wealthier now than—”

  “I’m not talking about the fucking money,” he snarls out, his body spinning to me. “Fuck the money. I’m talking about Cane. We’re losing focus.”

  “This is the focus. You wanted this, wanted us safe and—”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. Grow a damn backbone, Nate. You’re as bad as Emily with all your whining about safety.”

  I stand at that, indignant and about ready to knock some sense into his damn head.

  “Fuck you. You asked me to do this for you. You wanted safe and secure so you could play happy damn families with your little bitch.” The air that rushes at me has me dodging the reach of his fist before it connects with my head. A scowl crosses my brow before I can stop the emotion. “Did you just try to punch me?”

  “You call her that again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

  The malice in his face tells me I’ve just crossed a line I’ve been trying not to cross ever since it happened, but damned if I’m not a
s tense as he is all of a sudden. All this riling and provoking, constant digging, for no reason other than to get a rise out of me. I’ve spent my whole damn life bowing down to his wishes, doing what I’m told, listening and nodding rather than making him see sense.

  I glare in response to his threat, pissed at his abrupt turn of hand to me. All the things I’ve done for him, for us, and he swings for me because of Emily?

  “She killed my brother, Quinn. Give me a fucking break,” I snap out, trying to calm myself and failing.

  “To protect me.” He glowers some more, the step in my direction only pulling a temper from me I’ve managed to contain all this time. “It would’ve happened someday anyway. You don’t get to say shit about her.” I narrow my eyes, waiting for whatever else is about to come. “You weren’t there, didn’t see what he did to her.” The explanation should calm me down, make me see the reasons why, but it doesn’t—still. Josh is dead, by her hand. “You wanted us damn well safe? Well, she pulled the first fucking trigger to make that happen.”

  “I never asked for safe. You asked for safe.”

  “You always asked for safe. Snivelling. Whining at me to see a straighter route through. Avoid the killing. You’re as weak now as you always were. You think the Yakuza give a fuck for our safety?” I back away before my fist does something it’s wanted to do for too fucking long. He raises a brow at me, a snide smirk settling on his face. “What? You want some of this?”