Huh.My stalker is a woman—a very young one at that.And beautiful; sly even.A sneaky little mouse who can bake one hell of a delicious cookie.Kind eyes, a sweet smile, and tiny as a sprite.
She has my attention now.Even if she’s not made for my world.
Disappointment lurches in my gut as she dives behind the coffee counter when she realizes I’ve caught her.
“What’s her name?”
Preston gives me a look before we slide into the armored SUV that I shelled out a fortune for.
“Coco Spencer.”
See, I knew he’d know.He’s paid handsomely for all his knowledge.
A bark of laughter erupts.“Fucking Coco.Of course it is.”She’s as sweet as a warm cup of it, too, I’m sure.
“What are you thinking, boss?”
Those thoughts aren’t meant for him.
“How much I’d like to get this meeting over with.”The police chief has requested a rare meeting with me on the outskirts of the city.A place with no cameras, likely no witnesses, and where he might try to catch me with a bug.It’ll never happen, but that’s not to say he won’t try.
“He say what he wanted?”Preston asks, always prepared for anything.Hence, the arsenal in the back compartment.He’s perpetually primed for war.
“I have my suspicions,” I respond.The lieutenant I beat the shit out of last week for trying to steal from me is at the top of my list.
“Want me to call in a few more guys?”The fact that he hasn’t already shocks me.“He needs to learn he doesn’t run the show.”
Preston has been my right-hand man for many years.We grew up together, and when I took over the Detroit side of the Marcello organization, it was no surprise that he was right there with me.
“No, I think we can handle him.If he attempts to get out of hand, he’s all yours, Pres.”
He flashes me an anticipatory grin.Preston’s thirst for blood nearly matches my own.
We arrive at our destination within an hour, and I’ve managed to save one of the cookies from Coco for the drive home.Storing the stocking in the glove box, treat safely tucked away, we wait a few minutes before exiting.
The Chief is here and waiting inside for us.As always, Preston retrieves one of his toys and jams any devices in the area that could listen in, then signals for me to wait while he enters first.
Rolling my eyes, I follow behind.There are knives sheathed in the sleeves of my tailored-to-perfection dress shirt, so I’m prepared for most things when we encounter situations like this.And there, standing in the middle of the empty house near the kitchen, is Chief Parks, along with the lieutenant.That’s a bit surprising.
“Chief, how are you?”I’m often told that my smile is disarming because while my face completes the action, my eyes are as cold as Lake Erie in December.
“Lucca,” he replies.Preston clears his throat.He hates it when anyone calls me by my first name.“Mr.Marcello.I…uh…well, Lieutenant Xavier here wanted to speak with you.”
“And you thought deceiving me was the way to make it happen?”They both squirm when I cock my head.I have a penchant for remaining calm in every situation.Today is no different.
Preston wanders the perimeter of the room, his onyx eyes fixated on the two cops in the center of it before settling silently in a corner.Most people forget he’s even there until it’s too late.
“My apologies.I wasn’t sure you would come if you knew.”Things I have a severe dislike for are liars, thieves, and cheats.It appears that today I’m gifted with all three.
Sighing, I lift my arm to check the time on my Cartier watch, implying heavily that I have no time for this bullshit.I’ve typically found that silence speaks at much higher volumes than words, and while I wait for one of them to express themselves, they begin fidgeting, unnerved by my silence.
Xavier finally clears his throat before standing taller—well, as tall as he can with the broken leg—crutches being the only thing holding him upright.“I wanted to properly apologize for my lack of awareness, sir.”Preston snorts at this, forcing an uneasy swallow from X.“I knew better, but I was in a bad way, and–”
Cutting him off, I snarl, “I don’t do excuses, X.You’re lucky you still have fucking fingers.”And he is.If not for my being on my way to an event, wearing a white tux, I’d have left his wrists with stumps for hands.
“Thank you, sir,” he mutters.
“Thank you?”Preston snorts, a deep scowl on his face.“You don’t thank the boss, you moron.You get on your knees and spit shine his shoes, motherfucker.”Raising a brow at his creative authority, he shrugs.
