But this conversation wasn’t pleasant. The topic was avoided at all costs.
“It was about sixteen years ago now.” We never celebrated his life on the anniversary of his death because he was never mentioned at all on that day. Last year had been a hard one, though. Mum had taken it incredibly hard while undergoing cancer treatment, even if she didn’t talk about it. I never said any of this to Finn. I leaned back in the seat, listening to the way it creaked under me. “Us and the Italians were at war. Not like this now. It was bloody and brutal and lots of men died. Families were tortured and killed. The cops kept it on the down-low. Don’t know how, to be honest. If there’s violence in Australia, you always hear about it because compared to other countries, including yours, we’re pretty peaceful.”
He shifted slightly to turn toward me and grabbed my hand. I let him entwine our fingers, and I held on tighter. His soft expression sent a warmth through me that mademe, the mob boss of the southern hemisphere, feel safe. It was new, and I liked it—a lot.
“This area was run by the Italians before we came along. Fuck, it was the Calabrians, but there might also have been Sicilians. I don’t know. All I knew back then, in my twenties, was who I needed to kick out of Queensland.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. It was a long time ago and I was young then.
Stupid.
Brave.
Lawless.
You were born fearless, Ledge, Dad had always said with a booming laugh. He’d then smacked me on the back.That’s my boy.
I held in a snort. Even in his grave, he’d be pleased. Dad didn’t know how to be anything else. Whenever someone mentioned one of us, Dad was proud as punch, talking about every one of our accomplishments—legal, of course.
I gripped the steering wheel with the hand Finn wasn’t holding and squeezed it, thinking about all the times he’d let me drive his baby while he sat in the same seat Finn was in now. He would’ve encouraged me to do a burnout and be a hoon.
“Dad was walking home from the pub when the Italians caught him. He was usually more careful. I don’t know what he was doing that night.” I clenched my jaw. “So, they took him and tortured him. Sliced at his skin, pulled out his teeth, and cut out his organs, then dumped him in the gutter.”
“Fuck.” His hold tightened on my fingers.
“They left a note on his chest for me.” The acid taste of regret sat heavy on my tongue. “But that didn’t stop me. If anything, it drove me even harder, and I kicked those fuckers out of power. I made them helpless, and I took over the southern hemisphere. I run the drugs and weapons on this side of the planet.”
He raised my hand to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on the backside. “I’m sure he would have been proud of you.”
I laughed, genuinely happy. “Nah, yeah. He was a pretty awesome bloke. He always told me I had no fear.” I leaned toward Finn, and he did the same so I could press my forehead against his. “Until you came along. I’m afraid now.”
“Of what?” he whispered.
“Of losing you, Lolly. You’re mine.”
His abrupt laughter had me rearing back in surprise. He held up a palm toward me, his grip on my fingers tightening. “I’m sorry. It’s just.... You say that a lot.You’re mine. It should be your slogan.”
I smirked. “It wasn’t something I said about another person until you came along. Before you, it was only about territory and products.”
“Am I your territory?” Amusement danced in his eyes.
My smirk widened. “Absolutely.”
He released my hand and thumped his fists against his chest like something out of aKing Kongmovie. “I’m Legend. You’re mine.”
I rolled my eyes when his laughter grew louder. Dragging him closer, even though there was a console between us, I kissed him on his scarred cheek, making him tense. I laid another kiss on the torn-up skin, and he winced away from me.
“Lolly....” I cupped his face and cradled it as though he was the world because he was to me. “You are perfect. Remember that.”
He smiled at me. “You never knew me without these scars. But you make me feel as if I’m the most beautiful person.”
“Because you are.”
He sighed happily.
* * *
Weeks went by without issue, thenthe callfinally came.
Killough wanted his men back in the States. I’d conjured up all the possibilities of what to say to him, expecting for this day to come now that Federico Padulano was dead, and there was no activity from the other Italians. As far as Killough was concerned, it was over.
