Kitty.
Angel.
Mine.
Mine.
Soon.
Shoulders hunched, I drummed my fingers against the lab counter, aware that I should be focused on the results of the tests I’d been running, but more intrigued by the fact that I’d met my angel’s brothers.
Cade and Lucas Frasier.
Thanks to Star, they’d been my escorts off Irish turf.
But as far gone as I was, I’d known I couldn’t ask them where their sister lived. That would be like asking for my head to be kicked in via their booted feet.
My silence on the ride home had given me a gift, however.
As they’d driven me to the demarcated lines of Sicilian territory, where myStiddahad waited for me with one of our cars, I’d heardthem bitching about their sisters and a trip they were taking tomorrow.
I’d learned they had three—Róisín, a name they’d alternated between and ‘Raisin,’ Neev, and Kitty—and they were vacationing in Florida.
Fucking Florida, i.e., the current epicenter of the Forgotten Boys’ battle as they dominated the Russian Bratva and spread their numbers nationwide.
The worst hotspot was in Miami, which, though three hours away from Key West, where they’d be staying for spring break, felt too goddamn close for my liking.
To make matters worse, they hoped that Kitty’s fear of flying would make the women cancel the trip.
What was wrong with them? Why didn’t they cancel it them-fucking-selves?
Goddamn ball sacks.
As I wondered if Conor would sabotage their trip for me and added ‘find a Valentini-paid hacker’ to my to-hire list—my Achilles’s fucking heel because I’d had to shoot the last one in the head—my cell rang.
I scrubbed a hand over my face when I checked the caller ID and saw that it was our chief of security at the family nightclub.
“What’s up, Chad?”
“Some Albanian bozos decided to visit Russu tonight.”
The news had me bolting to my feet, the stool behind me colliding with the floor in my haste to stand. “Albanians?”
“Yeah, a group of fourteen. Armed, too.”
Fourteen? What the fuck was this—an invasion?
“Where are they now?”
“Sitting in one of the VIP booths.”
“Porca troia! Who the hell let them in?”
“I told you that Giuseppe was a fucking liability. How he couldn’t see they were packing is beyond me.”
I dug my thumbs into my eyes. This was the last thing I wanted to be dealing with, but fuck if I didn’t have a choice now.
Giuseppe Jr. was a Messina, and the Valentinis had bad blood with the Messinas. They, along with the Puglisis, had tried to take our throne from us and they’d lost.
