They’re waiting for me outside! Certainly the goons. Maybe even Mark, if he’s recovered from his busted-up balls.
“Hey!” someone yells. “Stop! Now!”
Yeah, right!
I gun the engine, feeling it rumble. And then I let her rip. The door is barely higher than the roof when the yellow beast screams out through the entrance. The men at the door leap out of my path as I fly past at speed. I’d happily knock them down like skittles anyhow. I’d probably do it accidentally because right now, I can barely control the damn vehicle. But I’m getting better at it by the second, and my need for survival is spurring me on.
By the time I get onto the driveway, I’ve figured out the gears. There’s a guard at the gate who snaps to attention at the sight of the car. Probably hasn’t been alerted yet and thinks it’s his boss. I put my hand on the horn andflash the lights, and he briskly opens the gate. And then stops abruptly and reaches for his belt.
Shit!
He’s reaching for a walkie-talkie. Turning to stare at me as I roar toward him.
Shit, shit, shit!
I step on the gas just as he begins to close it again. The Ferrari shoots through by a hairsbreadth, and it takes me a second to realize that I’m out on the open road.
“Oh, Jesus,” I choke out. There’s relief for a moment. And then the tears come. I can’t brush them away because it’s all I can do to keep this monster on the road with both hands.
Where do I go now Kyle?
Chapter 5
Mateo Ricci
I’ve fallen into a steady rhythm on the treadmill when the first call comes in and distracts me.
Dammit.
Running has become my morning ritual since leaving the Caraldi world. Wake up at dawn and hit the gym. Run for 45 minutes until the demons stop chasing me. Forget the life I’ve left behind for a while.
I like it here, in this huge, anonymous place that stinks of sweat and bleach. And nobody knows me. Even the girl who glances up and greets me with an overbright smile and a “Good morning, Mr. Richards” when I swipe my card through the turnstile has no idea who I am.
After I’d told Dario Caraldi that I’d hidden my identity as his older half-brother all my life, I’d thought one of two things would happen. Either he’d kill me, or he’d try to bring me into the family “business.”
Neither option appealed to me. Thankfully, he hadn’t opted to end me. But then I’d assured him that I didn’t want to work with the Caraldis, either. It’s been a long time coming.
So, I’d suggested a Plan C: they would leave me alone to slide back into anonymity. Something I do well. Be a ghost. Stay on the lookout for silent threats and move through the world without leaving a trace of myself. Not always easy when you’re six and a half feet tall and built like a wall. That’s something I can’t change. Nor can I change the fact that women tend to look at me. Which is why 5 a.m. is the best time to work out. There are seldom more than a few others in the gym with me. Yet still, I’m ignoring the pointed stares of a couple of hard-bodied blondes who come in here at the same time every day.
“Hey, sweetie,” one of them with the nude-tights says huskily as she cruises past my treadmill for the third time in ten minutes. I nod without answering or stare at her fake plastic ass.
I don’t encourage familiarity. It’s bad enough she’s determined to get to know me. And right now, the only sense of familiarity that appeals to me are the moments I spend in my apartment. It’s a place I’ve owned for years yet seldom seen with all the undercover work. Now I’ve returned to it like a haven – a haven I don’t intend to share with anyone else. Not for a long time, at any rate.
Although Dario’s other half-brother Raoul had a hard time coming to terms with that. He’d spent weeks trying to hook me up with his floozies in the beginning.
“You can’t go on alone forever, bro,” he’d said.
“Besides, I’m not saying you should marry them. Just fuck a few. It’ll be good for you.”
Not my style.
Nor had I been swayed by Dario’s upcoming wedding and the announcement that his fiancée was pregnant with twins.
Twins!
If there’s one thing that complicates life more than a baby, it would be two.Fuck.I would know that more than anyone. Illegitimate son of a mob daughter. Dario’s mother gave birth to me before her arranged marriage to his father. And then the cunt had killed her. I’d be happy to see him rot in hell. Although rotting in prison is almost as good.
There’s some small satisfaction in knowing I put him behind bars before I stepped away from my FBI career. That’s another “family” I’ve left behind. The career that had me living a lie for so long. Not that I really care. I’ve lived a lie all my life. Hiding who I am doesn’t simply come second nature – it’s the only way I know how to survive. My mother hid my true birthright from the day I was born.
