The harsh greeting has me smirking. “It’s good to hear your voice, Damien. Did I interrupt something important?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
I roll my eyes. “You really need to save my contact in your phone, it’s only been… what? Fifteen years or so?”
“I’m getting my cock sucked. Call you back in ten.” The call ends and I shake my head at my phone. Fucking Damien. He hasn’t changed since we met in our freshmen year of high school. Him from Ireland and me from Italy. For reasons that are stillunclear to me, we became fast friends at the private boarding school inAustria.
Of course after we graduated, we sank deeply into our respective roles with our own families. But we never lost touch.
Would our families be concerned to know that we communicated somewhat regularly? Perhaps. Loyalties would be questioned for sure. Neither of us want to deal with that, so we’ve kept our friendship private. Damien has taken that to the extreme by refusing to save my number in his phone. He was always paranoid.
Exactly ten minutes later, my phone rings. “Did you get off?” I answer, knowing it’s him without having checked the screen.
“I haven’t come that hard since Miranda. Remember her? Best blow jobs of my life.”
I chuckle. “If you say so.” Sobering, my light mood evaporates. “I’m calling for business not pleasure.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“You or your uncles wouldn’t happen to be trying to kill me?” I listen carefully to detect any deception in Damien’s voice. Though we both know it’s no use lying to each other—we know each other too well.
He chuckles. “Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why the fuck would we want you dead? We’re settled in, business is good even though we’re straighter than ever with both the FBI and IRS. Why the fuck would we start a war with the Italians? We’re not that stupid.”
Just as I thought.
“Any idea on who would put a hit out on me and my fiancée?” I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling.
“So you finally got her pinned down? Ring and all?”
“I did. Sorry I can’t send you an invitation to the wedding.”
“No worries. Wedding’s make me horny, and I’m trying to do less fucking around and more work these days.”
Even though he can’t see it, I arch a brow.
“Don’t fucking judge me, Max. Yeah, today’s blow job was a moment of weakness, so sue me. Any way, to answer your question, no one wants to fuck with the Italians other than the Italians.”
I take that in for a moment. “So you think this threat’s coming from within?”
“I’d put money on it. Ask yourself: Which Italians are you pissing off these days? Does anyone come to mind?”
I grunt. “Good talk.”
“Later.”
Setting my cell down, I gaze out the window. Damien has a good sense about these things, and I probably should have called him sooner. If he thinks it’s one of my own people, I should look there.
Unfortunately, as I think about who’s displeased with me, the list comes up short. Maybe I’m missing some vital information. Especially when I consider that this threat isn’t only against me and mine, it involves all four families. Who has a grudge against us all?
CHAPTER 25
Elena
“Do you have a style in mind for your dress?” Skye asks as I peruse her latest bridal collection in awe. The designs are all stunning, and one of a kind, but they must vary in price by the materials used and how detailed they are. Frankly I feel awful purchasing one of these works of art when I have no plans to attend my own wedding. The dress will be wasted. Maybe agreeing to this was a mistake.
