“I’m here, boss. Miss Drakos and I are taking a drive.” I glare at Stavros and whisper the word traitor while sticking my tongue out at him. To my surprise, he smiles.
“And where are the two of you taking adriveto?” Enzo growls. I should probably be concerned at the anger seeping through his voice, but instead I find myself turned on at the promise of what that tone means.
“Relax, lover. I’m just borrowing Stavros here for a few hours. Since you provided me with one of your men as an escort, I figured it was only fair I should put him to work. Besides, this way he’s doing the job you pay him for … following me around … and I get a free ride to my destination.” I shouldn’t poke the bear, but then what fun would that be?
“Althea.” It’s a warning, I know, but I don’t fucking care. He invaded my privacy by sending his man to keep tabs on me, acting like a fucking caveman who has the right to knowmy business. It’s high time Enzo Venatti learned just how unnecessary his overprotective stalker tendencies are.
“Enzo.”I mock. I hear clicking in the background and hit the mute button on Stavros’ phone.
“He’s tracking us, isn’t he?” Stavros smirks and gives a slight shrug of his shoulders. I take the phone off mute.
“Sorry, lover. We’ll have to talk later. I need to get ready for my next date.” With that, I hang up the phone, then power it down and toss it out the window on the highway. Stavros groans, swiping a hand down his face.
“Was that really necessary?” he grumbles. I smile, tapping his shoulder lightly with my hand.
“Yes, yes it was. And Stavros, since we both know he’s tracking your vehicle, I’m going to need you to park a little further down the road from the club. Okay?”
“Fuck.”
14
ENZO
I’m sitting in the front room of Nazario’s house with Mauro and Angelo, waiting for Naz to come out of his office. I’m still fuming over my call with Althea. She’s killed both phones, but as soon as I’m done here, I’ll tap into Stavros’s GPS and find his last known coordinates from the car. For now, I need to focus my attention here, andthenI can decide how I’m going to punish my little devil.
Santo is coming home in a few days, and the staff are all on edge trying to get things ready for his return. We are all on edge because we still don’t have a line on the shooter. The son of a bitch has gone into hiding. We tracked him through the city cameras but lost him when he got outside the city limits. Last night, Doblanski informed us that the vehicle we had been monitoring was found torched in the middle of a field just inside the Oklahoma state border. He’s using his connections in their state police to keep an eye out for Ephraim, but I’m not convinced he’s on the run. I think the asshole is working with someone else, and they’re hiding him. Using the destroyed car to throw us off. If he really wanted to run, he would’ve crossed the Mexican border and laid low for a while. It’s easier to hide ina foreign country, although with the Cartel as pissed off as they are, he may not be safe there either.
So far there’s been very little development outside of the torched vehicle until about an hour ago. Which is why Nazario called us all here, because one of our associates is waiting with information about the ambush on Naz and Santo.
The door to the office opens, and Nazario shouts for us to get our asses in there. Inside we find a young man sitting in the chair. He’s not restrained, and no one is holding a gun on him, so he came of his own accord.
I move to stand behind Nazario, leaning against the wall where I can keep an eye on the room. “Where’s Leo?” I ask as Nazario takes his seat behind the big mahogany desk, leaning back in his chair.
“He’s with Santo. Kid’s been a fucking mess since he found out about the shooting. Keeps asking to do something. Wants me to let him go hunt the fucker responsible down.” We share a look. Leo is not ready for the darker side of the family business. Marcello always said he needed to become a lawyer. Leo is stubborn, smart, and tenacious. His competitive streak is at least a mile wide, and he will not give up. When he finds something he wants badly enough, he will move heaven and hell to get it.
“I told him we were short on manpower, and I needed him to make sure Santo had whatever he needed. The men would guard the door, but Santo wouldn’t want our men to see him weak. Leo is there to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Naz quirks a brow at me.
“So, you made him a glorified babysitter.” I chuckle. Not that I would’ve done anything different. “He’s going to throw that shit in your face when this is over. He’s going to want to prove to you that he can do more than sit on the sidelines. He won’t be happy until you see him as equal and useful.”
“He needs to get his law degree and then we can talk about how he can be useful to the family,” Nazario barks. “He’s too young to be mixed up in this shit, and I promised Pop he would finish school and follow the path Pop laid out for him. Until then, he will do whatever I tell him, and you three—” He points around the room. “Will keep him safe and out of the fucking mix. Got me?”
The three of us nod our heads in solidarity to the order. I understand Nazario’s need to keep his promise to keep Leo safe, especially after Santo being shot, but I also know Leo. He’s not going to let this slide. Leo has always felt the need to prove his worth as a Venatti to his brothers, and Naz just gave him the permission he was looking for to do something crazy and make his point.
“Now that we have that settled,” Nazario gestures to the young man who’s been silently watching our exchange. “Tell them what you told me.”
Mauro fixes himself a drink, offering one to Nazario and Angelo. They both decline. When he tips the tumbler toward me, I give a subtle shake of my head. Angelo takes a seat on the couch to the left.
This kid looks vaguely familiar. He looks younger than me. Maybe closer in age to Giselle or Leo. He’s definitely not a college kid. Everything about him says he’s from the streets. The way he’s sizing us all up. I’ve caught him clocking our weapons more than once. I know the look. He’s calculating the chances of getting out of here alive if he feels like he has to run.
The more I study him, the more familiar he looks. Dark wavy hair, strong features, and toffee-colored eyes. He’s muscular, but lean. Someone people would overlook as a threat. But the cunningness in his eyes says they would be wrong to underestimate him.
“I know who shot Santo,” he says. “I don’tknowhim, but I know who he is. I heard him bragging about the job at a strip club downtown near the airport. Last night. He was telling his friends about it while some bitch sucked him off under the table.” He shrugs. “Guess he thought if he bragged about being someone important, she would give him a discount.”
“Cheap bastard,” Angelo grumbles.
“What did you hear him saying?” I want details. I need to know if Ephraim is working alone or if he was contracted to hit my cousins and the cartel.
He leans back in his seat. “He didn’t give all the details, but it was enough to know what he was talking about. My boss told us there had been an attempted hit …”
