He wasn’t aware of how things worked in Anaheim before we moved here, and Solo didn’t think it necessary to inform us. But we very quickly recognized a massive shift in the air this city breathes, and it’s not something that just goes away. It’s something that justis, because that’s the very reality of this place.
Anaheim is run by four mafia families. Powerful, ruthless, highest-in-class families. Theupper class, as they like to call themselves. And a member of one of these mafia families reached out to Dorran last week, requesting his assistance on a set of kills at his family’s Founder’s Day Gala – one that he’s hosting at his estate tonight inThe Summit, a wealthy neighborhood on the east ofAnaheim Hills.
Arasander Lutkus is his elder brother, and head of the Lutkus family, Darius’s right-hand man. He’s known for his disarming beauty and wild intellect, and from what little Solo has told us, he’s themuch kinderbrother out of the two. It’s a mildly unnerving fact, if not wholly discomforting.
Dorran still doesn’t know who he’s been hired to kill; just that it’s three people, all of whom will be attending the gala tonight. The crew and I have apparently been added to the guest list, and the entire situation is so unexpected and sudden that all I feel when I think about it, is worry.
“Have you heard from him yet?” I ask Dorran, then walk out of the closet with the dress in hand.
He looks up from his phone. “Nope. But Solo has wished us good luck for tonight.”
I scowl. “Fuck him. How does he know this mafia dude anyway?”
“Solo has connections with cops in quite a few cities, so that’s how he met Aras. The Anaheim Police Department has people who work discreetly under the different mafia families here, so it’s all just a matter of word of mouth. At least that’s what Solo told me.”
I click my tongue because I’m fucking annoyed. “Solo should be with us. It’s the least he can do since he’s the one who put us in this mess to begin with.”
Dorran chuckles. “Relax, will you?” When I glare at him, he drops his phone on the nightstand and raises his hands at me. “Okay, okay; wrong choice of word.” He sits up and leans back against the headboard. “What I’m trying to say is: don’t get worked up about everything. Solo says Aras is a good guy, and I trust him, so we should be good. And you know he wouldn’t have put me up for this if he thought I was in even the slightest bit of danger. Besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve been kept in the dark about a kill’s identity. I’ve had clients who liked to disclose these detailsafterthe crew and I made it to the kill-spot, so I get where this guy is coming from. Some contract killers love playing double agent; they use the deal to extract more money from the opposite party. Aras is just being safe, that’s all.”
“But if Aras knows Solo, and vice versa, wouldn’t Solo have assured Aras of your loyalty towards your clients? And, before you get all angry on me, let me clarify that I’m not doubting Solo. I’m just… confused. And restless, because we know next tonothingabout the kills, or the layout of the estate.”
Dorran studies me with a sharp quirk of his lips. “Look at you being all thorough with your queries,” he muses. “Turns me the fuck on.”
“Want me to shove an arm up your ass and fuck some sense into you?” I hiss. “Because I’ll do it, you careless motherfucker.”
He blinks at me, his face impassive. But then he laughs – so suddenly that it startles me a little.
“Did you just fuckingscoldme?” he asks, then laughs again.
“I asked you a very serious question, that’s all,” I deadpan.
He shakes his head at me. “Come here.”
“I will if you tell me why I have to wearthisdress to the gala tonight.” I throw said dress on the bed.
Dorran glances at it, and then at me. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing? Everything? I’m not necessarily fond of the memories it brings back.”
“All I think about when I see this dress is you having saved my life after Rizwana stabbed me.”
“What? I didn’t sa–”
“I would have bled out had you not been there, Cignette,” he cuts me off. “Wearingthis very dress, mind you.”
“None of us would have let anything happen to you, you know that.”
He lifts a shoulder but doesn’t say anything.
With a roll of my eyes, I walk over to him, and he crosses his legs to make space for me. Reaching him, I straddle his lap and settle on his thighs, then wrap my arms around his neck.
“I’d rather go to the gala naked than wear this,” I tell him.
His nostrils flare as he gives me an icy look. “Do that, and I’ll gut you from top to bottom, no hesitation.”
I scoff. “You justhaveto act like a stunted Neanderthal every once in a while, don’t you?”
His midnight-blue eyes gleam as he narrows them at me. “You’remine,” he says darkly, resolutely.
