Cochise glanced at him. “Didn’t say that either.”
“Who the fuck calls their underbossLord?”Clint muttered.
The Egyptian’s mouth twitched. “A boss who’s fucking him.”
Clint eyed the man. “How do you know?”
“There’sfamilyloyalty,” Cochise said. “And there’spersonalloyalty. How fast he responded when you shoved a gun to Lazarus’s head, the tone in his voice when he ordered you to let him go…” The Egyptian chuffed. “It wasn’t just hisbosshe was protecting.” He looked at Clint. “And that makes him even more dangerous under the circumstances.”
Forty minutes later, they pulled up to the entrance of Lazarus’s estate. Wrought-iron gates blocked their way. A man in an all-black suit and a fedora appeared, looking like a refugee gangster from the early nineteen-hundreds. His suit was unbuttoned, revealing his sidearm. He spoke to Clint, then quickly snapped a photo of the vehicle’s occupants and sent it to Lazarus for ID confirmation.
Moments later, he opened the gate and waved them through.
CHAPTER 10
The meeting with Porter left Lazarus in a sour mood and made him want to fuck again—if only to relieve his frustration. He didn’t fuck. When he excused Porter and was alone with Lord, he sat at his desk, his face tight with tension. His gaze darted to the small, silver-framed photo perched on the corner of his desk, lingering on the young face looking back at him. He felt the weight of Lord’s stare and looked away, letting out a hard breath.
“Word is, the cowboy is out for blood over a drive-by shooting he says you ordered.”Porter’s words had admittedly stunned Lazarus. Was one oftheirmen shot? Lazarus didn’t play gangland games; if he wanted one of them dead, his tactics would be classier than adrive-by.
A message notification intruded on his thoughts. He picked up his phone and looked at the photo Haman had sent from the front gates, scanned the faces, then returned the simple reply –It’s them.
Lord stepped closer and looked at the photo. “Why does the cowboy think you authorized a drive-by?”
Lazarus shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“I should’ve put a bullet in him when he touched you,” Lord said, his voice like granite. “No onetouches you.”
Massaging his throat, Lazarus smiled up at the man. “He only choked me a little.”
“He threatened your life. Put a gun to your head. Had it been anyone else, you would have let me pull the trigger. Why nothim?”
From the cowboy’s expression in the photo, Lazarus didn’t expect a much friendlier encounter than last time. “He reacted in desperation and panic,” Lazarus said, his voice low. “Their boys were missing, and he believed I had information I was holding back.” Lazarus rose from the chair and faced Lord. He cupped his strong neck and looked into his eyes. “What would you do if I disappeared?”
Lord stared back, a slight twitch in the skin around his eyes. “I’d burn down the fucking world to find you.”
A faint smile touched Lazarus’s lips. He nodded and kissed Lord. “Don’t hold a grudge against another man who would do the same for thoseheloves.”
Lord’s eyes roved over Lazarus’s face, a barely detectable emotion shifting behind the ice-blue orbs. “I don’t care why he touched you,” Lord said, his words carrying both affection and threat. “He touches you again, and he’s adeadcowboy.”
“Remember…” Lazarus stroked his thumbs in circles along Lord’s square jaw. “When you had the gun to the cowboy’s head, protecting me—the Egyptian was protecting him.” Lazarus kissed him again, his lips lingering on Lord’s mouth. “I’m notLord.” He deepened the kiss. “I couldn’t have broughtyouback to life.”
Clint remained calm as Lazarus’s man guided him and Cochise through the corridors of the vast manor. The host lived in luxury, but his refined tastes were carefully curated—nothing ostentatious or flamboyant simply to showcase wealth.Clint hadn’t taken Lazarus as someone who relied on money to impress or intimidate; he didn’t need such tactics. Lazarus Nazzaro had built his reputation in the criminal world through more innovative methods.
The man leading them took them up an open, central staircase to the second floor and along a hall of burgundy carpet, soft under Clint’s boots; each step felt like walking on clouds. Their guide paused outside a stained oak door with a brass handle and knocked twice. “Your guests have arrived, boss.”
“Show them in,” came a slightly muffled reply from behind the thick door.
The man opened the door and motioned for Clint and Cochise to come inside. Lazarus sat behind a spacious, antique mahogany desk, his second-in-command standing to his right, hands clasped behind his back, eyes like chipped ice as he surveyed the visitors with reserved caution. Clint noticed his pale blue eyes raking over him, none too friendly. The cowboy returned an equally “unfriendly” look.
Lazarus stood and gestured to their guide. “Pour my guests a drink.”
“This isn’t a social call,” Clint said, an edge in his voice.
Glancing at the Egyptian, Lazarus waved off his man. “Leave us.” The man nodded and left the room. Lazarus turned to the cowboy and the Egyptian. “Gentlemen. I must confess, I’m surprised to see you here.” He offered a small smile. “Not unpleasantly so. And no need to apologize for…” He stroked his neck, then waved his hand. “All is forgiven and forgotten. You were under stress. No hard feelings.”
Lordseemed to harborhard feelings.
“Enoughpleasantries.”Clint moved closer to the desk as Lazarus looked at him, unintimidated. “Are my sources correct?”he asked tightly. “Did you order the drive-by?” His face twitched. “If you did, we are going to have aseriousfuckingproblem.”
