Finally, after what felt like a long walk to the gallows, I made my way across the red and gold-patterned carpet to the back hallway, as directed. Another two guards stood on either side ofits only entrance, one of whom broke off to stride quickly to the first door to the right and poke his head in to say something.
“You can go in.”
The other guard remained, and I followed the first into the private dining room. It was an intimate setting, only three circular tables, with the one in the middle of the room set, and a man sat in the chair with his back facing the door. Immediately, I could tell it wasn’t Andrea from his golden-blond hair. Andrea would never sit with his back to the door, even if he had guards and was armed to the teeth. With abundant caution that failed me at this point, I walked around the table to sit across from this stranger.
“Hello, Mr. Black. I’m glad we finally have the chance to meet.”
There was no way of telling how old he was—which wasn’t uncommon among shifters, we were long-lived compared to humans—but even more so in the way parts of his face seemed frozen in place like he’d had work done to it. Smooth, tan skin, clear blue eyes, and a smile obviously whitened with extensive bleaching. He looked like he could be a model for some luxury suit brand in his well-tailored outfit. It was almost… strange, how perfect he looked. It was obvious to me he spent a lot of time on his appearance.
The man reached across the table, hand extended to shake mine. “Elio Messina,” he introduced himself. “Andrea has sung your praises as his resident tech man.”
“Hacker,” I corrected him, automatically. “And I’m a bit confused as to why you’re here, and not Mr. Caruso. The Red Riot would shoot you on sight, I’m sure.”
At this point, my audacity was all I had left. If I was going to eat some bullets tonight, it wouldn’t be groveling at this asshole’s feet. I knew exactly who he was. Eyes narrowed, I stared him down until he eventually chuckled and pulled his hand back to rest in his lap.
“I see my… reputation precedes me,” he remarked with a casual air. “Tell me, how did you come to know my sweet Lorelai?”
The familiarity and—dare I say—fondnessin his voice when saying Lore’s birth name made my skin crawl. It took every drop of self-control to not launch myself across this table and snap his neck. I could feel my primal press against its restraints, like my skin was being stretched from the inside. One-on-one, my chances of taking Elio were actually not abysmal. I could smell that, beneath the cloying layers of cologne he wore, he was a wolf shifter. But the eight other men scattered through the empty dining room told me he was far from stupid or cocky. Maybe he learned his lesson from Lore’s last killing spree of his colleagues.
I kept my voice even as I answered. “I came to Vegas to meet her on Andrea Caruso’s behalf. He wanted me to broker a deal with her.” I hoped mentioning I was acting on Andrea’s behalf—in word only—would let me walk out of this restaurant with all my limbs. I had to warn Lore that Elio washere.
Elio swirled some red wine in his glass before taking a light sip. “Ah, yes, Andrea. I’ll have to send him a gift for tipping me off. Though I’ll have to ask how long he knew about Lorelai’s whereabouts. I’ve been looking for her for… a very long time.” His thick fingers—adorned with several heavy silver rings like a cliché mafioso—lifted a cigar from the ashtray set at his elbow and took a pull, blowing the smoke out in my direction. For anyone else, besides Andrea, I would have slammed their face into the table for that kind of inconsiderate behavior. “If he had been keeping information from me, that would be unfortunate for him.”
His admission to Andrea’s hand in this had me seeing red. Not that Andrea Caruso had ever presented himself to be a good man, but in all my experience, he was at least honorable in his agreements. For him to stoop so low as to sic Lore’s sexualpredator on her just because she wouldn’t bend to his wishes had completely twisted my view of him. Elio eyed me as he continued to smoke, as if waiting for me to snap.
I’m sure he’d love the opportunity to put me down like a rabid dog.
“I don’t want to sound rude, but why am I here, Mr. Messina?”
He chuckled. “You’re not stupid, Grant. You know why you’re here.”
“I’d rather have it confirmed.”
Elio slapped the table with a heavy hand and leaned back in his chair as he guffawed. “Do you see this guy?” he spoke to the closest bodyguard, who continued to stand by the door with a stoic expression. “Andrea didn’t mention you had a sense of humor when he handed you over!”
My blood chilled, freezing me in place with fear. Even the animal pacing inside me stilled at the blatant admission of betrayal. I tried not to let the panic show on my face, even when Elio confirmed my suspicions. Andrea had thrown me to the wolves. For all the years of loyalty I gave him, I got nothing but betrayal in return. Seeing what Elio was capable of with Patty’s torture, my hopes of making it out of this alive had dropped to zilch.
Unless Lore gave enough of a shit to come get me, I had no way of escaping what has essentially become a hostage situation.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Elio apparently saw through my mask of indifference. “I know my little girl will come running as soon as she gets a picture of you in… distress. Bless her, but Lorelai has too soft a heart for this business.”
I wanted to laugh in the asshole’s face. He obviously had no idea how pissed off Lore was with me at the moment. Or how bloodthirsty she’d become. If he was half as informed as he thought he was, he’d realize he had nothing on her in terms ofleverage. Not that I would enlighten him on that. I wasn’t too keen on having a similar death to Patty’s.
Elio snapped at his guards and pointed to me. “Get him set up in the back room. I’ll be down in a while.”
Fuck!
My body sprang into action before my brain could catch up. I jumped from the chair, knocking it to the carpeted floor, and gripped the edge of the wooden table with both hands. Heaving it with all my strength, I threw it up and over in an attempt to distract Elio and his goons long enough to dash for the front door. It was too much of a risk to try getting out the back. It looked like I would have to run through the kitchen, and there was no way to know what waited for me in there.
The shift took over before my brain could catch up. Clothes tangled around me for a second before my fox darted from the pile. One of Elio’s men swooped down in an attempt to grab me around my midsection, as I reached out to bite his biceps and rip the skin and muscle with a vicious shake of my head. He stumbled back with a pained howl and I took the chance to run between his legs toward the front door. Weaving through the chairs and ducking under the tables in the main dining room proved useless when a net flew wide and landed on my back. A pained yelp yipped from my mouth as my legs tangled up in it and I skidded across the carpet and crashed into the legs of a heavy chair. The sound of ragged panting filled my head as I thrashed beneath the ropes in an attempt to wriggle free.
A pair of shiny black shoes came into my limited field of vision. “Thank you for your help in bringing my little kit back home, Mr. Black.” Elio’s voice was ominously excited, and the last thing I remembered before my sight went dark was one of his shoes flying toward my head and snapping it back with a bolt of skull-splitting agony.
He's Mine
Lore
I’d had a lot of shit experiences in my thirty-two years of life. But nothing—including, but not limited to, two fucking years of torture under Elio’s care—beat having to call Patty’s partner totell him what happened to her. I'd spent most of the day avoiding the dreaded task, burying myself in strategy planning meetings with Taylor and Jerel to flush Elio out of hiding. Eventually, though, my conscience wouldn't let me push it off any more. Her death loomed over me like a tsunami of despair as I desperately tried to outswim it. But the tide was too strong, and it was close to pulling me under to crush my spirit once and for all.
