Dust kicks up when I bridge the gap between us. “You nearly killed someone back there.”
The fool shrugs, feigning indifference. It’s a pity his shaky hands betray his fear. “It wasn’t my fault. She wasn’t looking where she was going.”
His lazy dismissal extinguishes the last of my patience. Fisting the front of his shirt, I yank him forward until his face is an inch from mine, and the popping of his buttons pierces through the noise in my head. He’s taller than me and a good thirty pounds heavier, but backing down isn’t in my vocabulary.
“Not only did you drive through Carlisle like you own the place, but you did it withourmerchandise dusting your fucking nose.” Iflick his nostril with my spare hand. My fairy tap springs tears to his eyes and sprinkles the collar of his uniform with the white powder I’m skeptical he paid for. “When you wear this uniform, you representmyfamily. Today, you made us look irresponsible. That’s unacceptable.”
Color drains from his face when it dawns on him how serious I am. He tries to pull back, but my grip is ironclad, so he returns to being a coward. “I-I’m sorry,SignorCaruso. It won’t happen again. I-I?—”
Before he can issue another pathetic excuse, I strike him hard across the cheek. My backhanded slap sends him sprawling backward, and he lands on his ass with a thud. Seconds later, the crack of my foot breaking several of his ribs booms over the shocked huff of the people surrounding us.
Tears trickle down his cheeks as bewilderment and pain mingle on his face. His sudden remorse doesn’t slow me down. I can’t stop recalling the fear in Valentina’s eyes before I plucked her from danger, and how different things could be if I’d hesitated for even a second.
“You don’t get a second chance with stuff like this.” I remove my gun from its holster, and the driver scrambles back, eyes wide with fear. “Let this be a warning.” I crane my neck to the people doing nothing to help their colleague. “If you work for the Carusos, you represent the Carusos. I don’t give a fuck what’s going on in our personal life;nevertarnish the Caruso name. If Ieverhear about anything like this happening again, you’ll answer to me. Trust me, you don’t want that”—I return my attention to the driver sniveling at my feet—“because it will only ever end one way.”
With a direct hit to the head, I remove the light from his eyes like he almost did to Valentina. Then I divert my attention back to the onlookers. I hold their gazes for a prolonged period, letting my threat settle, before I holster my gun and return to my SUV.
Partway across the dusty lot, Elio, the youngest of the five Carusobrothers, exits the lead convoy SUV. He could bark orders to those below him to clean up my mess, but that isn’t Elio’s way. He believes he’s the only one qualified to fix my mistakes. If his belief was miles off the bullseye, I’d ensure he felt differently. Since it’s not, I give him instructions on how I want this handled.
“Make this public. I want his death to be a warning.”
A smirk lifts one side of my mouth when Elio asks, “A warning to stay away from Carlisle’s latest repatriate, or the merchandise he sampled while waiting for it to be packaged for transport?”
Given that I met Valentina only thirty minutes ago, my reply is too swift not to be reckless. “Both.”
After lifting my chin in appreciation for his support, I slide behind the wheel of my SUV and drive away. Anger still simmers beneath the surface of my skin, but there’s an immense amount of satisfaction knowing the locals won’t forget this encounter for years to come, which, in turn, means they’ll also stay away from Valentina.
Carlisle is my hometown. My family’s town. And today, I made sure everyone who represents our name remembers that for years to come.
As I pass the area where I first spotted Valentina, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. My blood is still hot with adrenaline, but I can’t skip this meeting. The outcome of this deal is critical for Carlisle’s future.
Dante usually manages this aspect of our business, but since he’s distracted by the disappearance of his daughter’s mother, his brothers are picking up the slack.
The streets of Carlisle’s town center blur when I increase my speed. Sunlight spills over the rooftops, and the aroma of fresh bread mingles with the salty breeze wafting off the coast.
I know these streets better than I know myself. Every shortcut, alleyway, and shadow I’ve made a deal or ended a life in. I was born in a villa on the outskirts of town and was raised among acres of lemon orchards and marble halls. I learned at a young age thatpower is fragile. It’s easily lost and never guaranteed, which is the sole reason I need to remain on the ball.
The Caruso name carries weight in Carlisle, and it’s my job to keep it that way. Our reach stretches from the orchards to the harbor, and from the council chambers to the back rooms of the pubs where men whisper our name with both awe and dread.
We don’t advertise our power like I just did. Everyone knows who pulls the strings, and they either play by the rules or find themselves buried under six feet of dirt.
I loosen my grip on the wheel when I pull my SUV through the manned gates of a warehouse with white walls gleaming in the early-morning sunlight. With Matteo’s car already in the lot, the responsibilities I can’t escape slam back into me.
After killing the engine, I adjust my blood-splattered tie and then exit the SUV like my day is just beginning. The air is pungent with the scent of a recently fired gun and the tangy aroma of blood.
Walking up the steps and past two guards, who nod in deference, I enter a concealed office at the back of the compound. Matteo, the very definition of a middle child, sits behind a big, bulky desk. Excluding a handful of crimson droplets on the cuffs of his dress shirt, his suit is as immaculate as his slicked-back hair, and his expression is a mix of impatience and concern.
He’s younger than me by two years but in some ways more mature. He’s always looking for a new angle to expand our network and make more money, whereas I’m happy to keep things local.
“You’re late,” Matteo says, not looking up. “The councilor is waiting. We could lose the advantage if we keep him waiting too long.”
I shrug, unrepentant. “There was an incident in town.”
Matteo rounds the desk, props his ass on the battered wood, then folds his arms across his tattooed chest. A knowing smirk curls on his lips, and it’s now that I realize he must have witnessed the whole fiasco.
Of course he did. Matteo misses nothing.
He raises a brow as his eyes glint with amusement. “Saving her life wasn’t enough? You had to drive her where she needed to go, too, Vanni?”
