“I’m not your guy,” I countered. “What happened?”
“He was murdered about two weeks ago. Cops have no leads.”
That meant someone was paying them off.
“Word on the street?” I asked, brain working overtime.
“Your boy Grimaldi wants the top spot.”
“He’s not a Salvatore.”
Ghost shrugged. “The other Salvatore brothers are all running different regions. Grimaldi was Matteo’s right hand. He’s the closest thing.”
I pursed my lips, pondering the situation. “He been appointed yet?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So Grimaldi is making a play to be the new kingpin in Buffalo, and his first order of business is to kill Haz.”
“And when they failed, he offered you ten million for the job,” Ghost added.
“But why?” I muttered, trying to look at this situation from every angle. I was missing something. But what? “How in the hell could a twenty-two-year-old orphan who works shitty part-time jobs, has no money, and lives in the slums pose a threat to someone as powerful as Grimaldi?”
“You sure he is who he says he is?” Ghost asked.
My head snapped up. “What?”
He raised his hands defensively. “I’m just saying. I mean, he’s cute and all, but think with your brain for a minute instead of your dick. Anyone whose death is worth ten mil probably isn’t innocent.”
He was right. And yet…
I charged forward, wrapping my hand around Ghost’s throat and plowing him into the fridge so hard that all the glass inside knocked together. He didn’t fight, not even when I squeezed hard enough to cut off his air supply. His eyes were steady even when I leaned in so close that my breath gusted across his face.
“He said he didn’t know, so he doesn’t know.” I snarled. “I thought his innocence was an act at first too. But it’s not. It’s a goddamn anomaly, and I’m going to protect him. Even if that means walking into Grimaldi’s house alone.”
Ghost’s nostrils flared, and I shoved off him, turning my back while he gulped in air. “Fuck, Vaughn.” He wheezed. Coughing, he reached into the fridge for a water and downed half. “Don’t ever tell me he isn’t your boyfriend again,” he rasped, the plastic bottle crinkling under his grip. “That boy is so far under your skin that he’s practically your heartbeat.”
The silence between us was deafening and uncomfortable. Not even Ghost’s ragged breathing could compete. I wasn’t sorry for what I did because now he understood. He understood in a way only the both of us could.
My world—ourworld—was ride-or-die.
We learned the hard way how rare true loyalty and trust are. So rare it had just been us for nearly ten years. I didn’t blame him for being cautious or even for questioning Haz’s loyalty to me. Because for men like us, once someone got in, the only way out was death.
But as Ghost so dramatically pointed out, Haz was already in. So much so that he was my heartbeat.
So I knew he’d understand when I spoke again.
“You’re right,” I finally admitted. “I’m in so deep that there’s no way out. If something happens…” I paused, the mere thought so painful I didn’t want to say it out loud. “If I’m wrong about him, you’ll have to put me down.”
“Vaughn.”
I stiffened but remained turned away. “I mean it. If I’m wrong, if he isn’t who I think he is, I’ll never trust myself again, and you shouldn’t either.”
A long, poignant stillness blanketed the kitchen as I attempted to contemplate the ramifications of letting someone in, realizing they wouldn’t be just mine to bear but Ghost’s too.
I shouldn’t have involved him. I should have told him to leave right then. Forget this conversation ever happened. I was willing to risk everything for Haz, but I had no right to ask Ghost to do the same.
“You love him?” he finally asked.
