We go into my office and I turn to Anthony. “What did you find out?” I ask, knowing my head of security would’ve already investigated the incident.
Anthony holds out a tablet. “We pulled a frame from the lobby camera at her building. Romero’s man entered after going out on a date with another woman who lives in the same building. I’m assuming from the time he spent in her room that they were intimate. From there he made his way to Miss Locke’s apartment.” Anthony moves the video to another clip. “From his gait and stature he looks like Carlo Venti. He was shot a couple of years ago in Chicago, walks with a bit of a limp now. He’s been running small collections for Matteo the last few months. First time he’s ever ruffled up a woman though.”
So that’s how the bastard got in the building without my security knowing. At least it wasn’t because they had slipped and missed the obvious. “A sly move with a lot of thought behind it. Clever to have him enter under the guise of dating another,” I say, revenge already forthright in my mind. All the ways I’d enjoy hurting this man when I got my hands on him.
“Go back to Briar’s apartment. Two outside, two in the car outside, and wait. No doubt Venti will go back to make sure the message stuck in a day or two. When he does, I want him picked up clean and quiet. No scenes. No neighbors. No mistakes.”
Anthony nods. “We can do that.”
“Don’t bring him here,” my brother Gabriel says, the youngest of the family and now also the tallest. “Take him to the warehouse downtown and text me. We’ll meet there and have a little chat.”
Mace studies my face. “You want security to go for Matteo too? He’s been seen near several of our properties downtown. I’d like to have a word or two on the quiet that he’s not welcome near our assets.”
“Not yet,” I say. “We start with the dog he sent. We send him back with teeth marks. If Matteo wants a dog fight, he can start it. Until then, we do this my way.”
Anthony’s mouth tightens in a grim smile. “Your way works.”
And it would work. Lucien could almost feel sorry for Venti and what was coming for him and in time, Romero too. None of his mob would get away with their threats, no matter how mild they may be at present.
The elevator pings again. Dr. Andrews arrives with a worn leather bag and the calm that never leaves him.
“Down the hall,” I say, leaving my office to join him in the living room. He follows me into the bedroom and Briar sits against the headboard, blanket pulled to her ribs, hair loose around her face. She is pale but composed. Stubborn. Even broken as she is I can see she thinks this is all too much. The sight lands in my chest in a way I don’t care to examine. It isn’t too much. It’s not enough.
“Briar,” I say. “This is Dr. Andrews.”
She gives the smallest nod. “Hello,” she whispers.
“May I?” Dr. Andrews asks, setting his bag down and moving toward the bed where he’ll examine her injuries.
She nods again and I step back and watch him work. He checks her vitals. He asks where it hurts. He palpates carefully, listening to the breath that hitches in her throat when he touchesthe worst bruises. He moves with a gentleness that is learned by years in the field.
“Bruising along the lower ribs and the abdominal wall,” the doctors states. “No signs of internal bleeding, but we will keep watch. Breathing is shallow from pain, not compromise. I will give you something for tonight and tomorrow, and I want ice every two hours for the next day or so. If there is dizziness, fever, or new sharp pain, you call me.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, the first glimmer of a smile on her lips.
Dr. Andrews sets two small white bottles on the nightstand and writes a short note. “One now with water. One as needed. No alcohol. Small meals. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.”
I walk him out and press a hand to his shoulder at the elevator door. “Thank you,” I say, grateful that she wasn’t more injured. Romero’s goons weren’t known for subtlety, not toward their targets.
“I hope whoever did this to her,” Dr. Andrew’s says, meeting my eyes, “is brought before the law to face punishment.” The doctor paused, frowning. “Keep her still. The body can heal when the mind feels safe.”
“I will,” I say.
When I return to the living room, my brothers are there. Anthony ends a call. “The team is headed to the apartment,” he says. “If Venti shows, we’ll pull him. If he doesn’t, we drag him out of whatever hole he sleeps in.”
“Text me status on the hour,” I say. “No one bothers the others who live in the building, no noise, no threats. I want no attention.”
“Understood.”
Franco tips his chin toward the bedroom. “You good here or do you want us to stay?”
“We’re good,” I say. “Be extra cautious and let me know if anything is out of the norm.”
They file out and the loft goes quiet. City light spills across my polished concrete floors. I stand for a moment and listen to the silence. The peace that I’ve been living with these past years is about to shatter. But I have no choice. I won’t let Romero ruin Briar’s life, not when all she wants is to be free of his hold.
Not unsimilar to how my brothers and I have lived these past years. Always in the shadow of a family name that was as corrupt and crocked as a bent bar. We’d worked hard to move on from those mob days, but still it wants to crawl back into our lives and alter it for the worst.
No more.
