Carter's POV

"... a barricade has been set up on 2101 NASA parkway by infuriated mobs..." I wake up to the sound of the TV. "'There is nothing we can do to calm these people down,' the sheriff of Harriss county told NYNC this morning." I tune out the sound of the TV and head for my daily exercise. After a five kilometer jog on Broadway street, I return to Tara's apartment. It's 5:30 when I arrive. I take a quick shower and put on dress pants from my Suede Armani suit. I leave the rest lying neatly on the bed as I go to the kitchen to make breakfast before I leave.

"Eggs... bacon... bread..."I mumble as I pull out ingredients. I am making toast. I am certain Tara will like it, she lo- likes everything I make. I had to learn how to cook for that reason; she can't cook for the life of her. Speaking of which, I remember the cryptic letter she received three days ago. Tara doesn't know that I had opened it before her and read through; she doesn't need to know that either.

Fiona Jenkins, I know the woman. Beside having multiple interviews with her, we've had, say, a few interesting, confidential conversations, most of which ended with her shooting daggers of helpless rage. Very peachy conversations. I presume she contacted Tara because of the files she has from her mother; files I am itching to lay my hands on. But if Tara has them, it's only a matter of time and they'll be mine.

I smell the burnt toast before I even see it. Scrambling to get it off the stove, I knock down a pitcher of juice. "Fuck." I turn off the gas before squatting and picking up the shards of glass. A shard I had not seen cuts my palm. Blood starts dripping onto the white tiles leaving ugly red marks. I get up quickly and head to the bathroom. What a rotten way to start the morning.

"Hey." Tara stops me as she gets out of her room. She looks me over with squinted eyes. Either she's still sleepy or she is concerned about me, I don't know which. Her eyes land on my injured hand that is still bleeding profusely. "Get in here." she ushers me in hurriedly. I follow her without protest. She opens a door on the left end of her room, revealing a small bathroom with lavender tiles, a bathtub that covers almost half the bathroom and an overcrowded vanity table.

"Sit." She points to the edge of the bathtub and turns to the cabinet. From where I am sitting, I can not help but see her ass. In very short, blue pajama shorts, everything is on display, not to mention that she has to bend to get the first aid kit. I clear my throat, hoping to clear my head in the process. I look away.

She pulls my hand towards her and tenderly applies ointment where I was cut. Wordlessly, she cleans my wound and dresses it in a double bandage. She gets up from her squatting position and leaves the bathroom. I follow her out more disoriented than before. Maybe it's the proximity or the scent of her perfume wafting in every corner of her room. I have to get out of her fast. I make for the door but Tara blocks my way. "Where are you going? She asks. She holds out her hand and without thinking I give her mine. She pulls out a small heart sticker and sticks it on the edge of the bandage. I look at her with confusion. "Be careful." she says softly.

She ushers me out and closes the door. To distract myself from my confused mind and equally confused body, I clean up the mess, whip up a quick breakfast and leave the house.

I park my car. Cameramen swarm every side of it before I can even turn off the engine. I take a deep steadying breath and open the door. The second my foot hits the ground, cameras start flashing. I get out languidly, and pick up my briefcase. The walk from the VIP parking spots to the entrance of the new Cavon Motor industry, seems so long with all eyes trained on me. I make sure to keep my face neutral and my gait regal.

I step into the air conditioned building to the applause of a hundred or so employees. They are the ones who'll be in charge of producing quality services until they can't anymore, in which case they'll be fired. I spot Ded instantly. Not one for grand entrances, he must have entered silently through a back door. Like the snake he is.

"My man." he exclaims as he sees me approaching. Leaving behind the group of men he was with, he walks towards me and clasps myhand in a forceful handshake. Do you know how it feels to have a snake crawl up your body and wrap itself around your limbs, slither it's head onto your neck until it looks you straight in the eye; it's fangs laughing at you for being caught in its embrace? That's how it feels shaking hands with him.

I return equally as much pressure without shying away from his gaze. "Welcome to the Family." I pronounce it with a tightlipped smile. Family must be a word he hears so infrequently, it's on the verge of extinction to him.

He returns it with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, "A pleasure." He replies in his gruff booming voice. He leads me to the group of men he was with and introduces me around. Like Finn, I know deep down each of these lives in fear for they fraternized with the devil and have to see every last one of them die as Ded pleases.

Before long, the inauguration begins. We both said a few words, cut the ribbon and dispersed to a wine bar. There is chitchat everywhere as dignitaries and honorable people discuss their plans. Whereas, I am looking around for Mr. Von's right hand man. I know roughly who I am looking for but I haven't really met them in person. Among the furnaces, I find the man I have been looking for. He is smoking a cigar with his eyes surveilling the room intently. "Mind if I join?" I ask, casually putting my hand on his shoulder.

The distrust in his eyes is palpable but he lets me join him regardless. "Nice place." He remarks. I nod. He is not a man of many words. On close inspection, he must be around my age. A little taller than me, with brown hair and an attractively chiseled face. I have a feeling I have seen him before despite everything. He spits the leftover cigar and crushes it on the clean floor. He is watching for my reaction. I don't give one.

"See you around." He turns and bumps my shoulder as he leaves. The open hostility he portrays is a message and I clearly get it, but I do not plan on doing anything about it. Ded wanted to play with my life, and I am here to play with his money too.

I ascend to the main floor and rejoin the party. After an hour of exchanging mundane conversations, Ded leaves with his entourage. Many of the guests also leave shortly afterwards. I take the elevator to the eleventh floor where my office is situated. It is only provisional as I will not be here often. I open the large double mahogany door and walk in on my partner lounging in my seat. He does not look apologetic on the contrary he looks every bit like the owner of this entire building. It's the effect he has but it no longer works on me.

"Quite the party down there." he whips up a bottle of brandy and pours us each a glass.

"Very mundane and wealthy, as expected." I plop into a leather sofa that faces a floor to ceiling glass wall. I plop my feet up on an ottoman. Brandy tastes even better this way.

"To our revenge." He toasts.

"To our revenge." I raise my glass and lower it to my lips. After downing the entire thing. I pour another. "Everything is in order now. It's time to begin."

My partner looks wary all of a sudden. "What of Tara?" He asks. Involuntarily lacy images of her probably in my bed flash before my eyes, I drown them from my sight and answer.

"She is becoming a problem, but we still have a lot to gain from her." I recount about the letter and the constant late night journeys she has been taking.

"So she wants to know about mom's death?" He asks offhandedly divulging more than he intended. For a split second, his demeanor crumbles as he realizes that he has revealed his identity to me. Inwardly, I want to laugh. I already knew who he was.

"Yes, August, she does." I answer.

August gulps another glass of brandy. He barely looks me in the eyes. I set my feet down and get up. I walk to the book cabinet and inspect the various names on display. A couple of Orwells, King, Murakami and many more of my favorites.

I turn back to my interlocutor. "Well, since the cat's out of the bag, how about we don't act so stiff around each other?" August proposes bashedly.

"I agree." I pat him on the shoulder in passing and return to my seat. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"I am going to a business meeting in Italy with my father. You keep an eye on my sister in the meantime. See that she doesn't foil our plans."

I raise an eyebrow. Is that really what I have to do? Babysit his sister? That's pathetic and he knows it too. Besides, Tara is not the easiest woman on the planet. She's bound to make my life hell for it. "That's quite the task."

"I know. She is a tough one." He says with the first real smile I have seen on his face. As silence descends upon us, I get the cue to leave. I grab my bag and take the elevator down stairs. I bump into Ded's right hand man in the lobby. He gives me an intense stare and walks away.