“I can be nice, brother. You just give me far too little credit.”
“Fuck, Remo, your nice sits at the end of a barrel, knife or whatever takes your fucking fancy.” He glanced at the screen again. “Can’t say I’m not impressed, though. There’s hope for you after all.”
His compliment widened my smile because his approval kept me sane.
Thumb under his chin, the back of his forefinger rubbing his bottom lip, he looked contemplative. “We need to return this money to their clients.”
“No, we don’t.” At his frown, I added. “Those fuckers are dead and their clients have no money. We do. When they need it, they’ll seek you out. You can give it to them with minimal interest. Win, win situation.”
Lorenzo’s smile was slow to form but I could read the subtle agreement in his expression. “That’s stealing.”
“So?” I chuckled. “You’re a morally gray don, who’s gone a tad softer after a billionaire prince stole your cock and carries it in his back pocket while I’m a fucking darker than night bastard. Regardless, we both get what we want.”
He handed back my phone and leaned his head against the backrest with a soft laugh. “One of these days, you’re going to find a beautiful woman who’ll shackle you by the balls.”
“Shoot me dead, if that ever happens,” I snorted.
“Or maybe it’s time you made me an uncle,” he taunted.
“Old age making you senile, brother?”
“Probably because I forget you don’t commit, just fuck.” His tone laced with unhidden sarcasm; he leveled me with one of those intense looks that literally had some men piss their pants when they attempted to meet it. “Nothing wrong with a little love, Remo. Might change your perspective on life.”
“Love—” I grunted, glancing out the window, my tongue playing with the ring pierced into my bottom lip. “—makes men spineless and women mindless.”
He leaned forward in his seat and I looked at him. His expression now filled with the usual care; he slowly shook his head. “Love never dies,fratello, it just gets stronger with time. Dario once told me that while serendipity might be a fucked-up notion to some, it will bring you the one you’re destined to be with. At first, I didn’t believe it and now I do.”
“No such thing, brother, for me at least.”
The look on my face must’ve given him pause. He sat back and fished his phone out of his jacket pocket leaving me with my thoughts. The ones that haunted me when I allowed them to. Usually I handled them well, the times I couldn’t, someone’s blood would spill. I’d had my fix today which meant the lust was pacified.
For now.
“What the fuck,” Lorenzo’s harsh growl sliced through the hum of the engine as we pulled up outside the club.
My head snapped toward him. Eyes locked on his phone, his jaw worked slow grind that meant something had already gone very wrong.
“Inside,” he ordered, climbing out.
I followed without hesitation. Gian scrambled out behind us, almost jogging to keep pace with Lorenzo. Neon lights bleeding across the pavement, the music inside pulsed low as we cut through the main floor, staff straightening instinctively at our entrance.
“What now,” I muttered, watching the way his thumb hovered over his screen.
He didn’t answer until we were inside his office and the door shut with a heavy thud behind us. Only then did he lift his gaze to me, and the look in his eyes was equal parts fury and suspicion. “Christ, Remo, what the fuck happened at The Den?”
I frowned, trying to catch up with the accusation in his tone. “What are you talking about?”
His disbelief sharpening, he crossed the room in two strides, turned at his desk and tossed his phone at me. “It’s a fucking bloodbath they’re trying to keep under wraps and clearly failed.”
Curious, I scanned several pics sent by Scott, the detective on our payroll. The underground casino from three nights ago was unrecognizable. Bodies scattered between overturned tables, blood-streaked marble and floors, familiar faces of several mafia heads and their men frozen in fear and some, anger. Uncontrolled chaos.
I lifted my eyes. “I’m not sure…” Insult twisted my stomach. “Wait. You think I did this?”
“You were there that night, and you’re alive?—”
“Fuck, Renz.” I dropped his phone on the table harder than necessary and dragged both hands through my hair, forcing air into my lungs before anger turned reckless. “Gian,” I yelled.
The door flew open, the kid almost tripping in his hurry to enter. “Boss.”
