Mia: A Standalone Romantic Suspense: A Luke Fletcher and V Mafia Crossover Novel (Luke Fletcher Series Book 4)

by Karice Bolton

  Jade stayed silent.

  “We’ll leave my brother’s winning hand on the table. Consider it a favor.”

  “Favors don’t fly.” She bit her lip but looked over her shoulder and nodded to the cash man behind her.

  Within seconds, the door flew open and a three-hundred-pound behemoth with a bald head pounded into the room. He separated and counted the chips and grunted as he threw twenty grand on the table.

  More than I thought.

  Jade slid the false wall down and latched it as I walked over to the table. My brother stood proud while I tightly rolled the bills and stuffed them into the inside of my jacket.

  The behemoth threw out another grunt and left the room.

  The worst part about these places wasn’t winning or losing. It was ensuring you walked out alive. A lot of desperate people hung around these establishments—mostly addicts hoping for one more fix, a few bucks to carry them forward—and they tended to hover in the shadows until they were ready to strike.

  It was a fine line to walk when confronting them. They had less to lose, so throwing a punch didn’t always end a confrontation.

  I batted away the anger about being put in this position again. My brother was a lost soul right now. I glanced at his glassy eyes and sighed. We were brothers. We were all we had, but Jax didn’t need to know about this incident. It would only make conducting business more unpleasant than it already was and family life absolutely intolerable.

  “Let’s go,” I muttered to Devin, slipping my arm under his and steadying him as we walked out of the room and into the seedy bar.

  All the stools were full, and the booths were packed. I spotted the group my brother was playing against and kept walking.

  Devin laughed and shot them a dirty gaze, which made two of the men tense.

  “Not now,” I whispered, kicking open the door with my foot.

  The brisk air didn’t do a thing to wake my brother from his fog. My eyes scanned the empty sidewalks and alley across the way.

  All clear.

  For now.

  I got to the passenger door and touched my finger to the handle. The door unlocked automatically with the keyless remote in my pocket.

  Wasn’t exactly the feature I’d hope to use the most with my brother in tow, but it was working out that way. He fell into the leather seat, and I slammed the door. Recently, it felt like my younger brother had a death wish. He gravitated toward every underground activity and always managed to drag one of us along for the ride.

  I turned around, and that was when I saw two guys coming at me.

  Crack heads hoping to score an easy twenty bucks.

  Great!

  A clumsy punch came in my direction. I dodged it without much effort, and the guy fell on my car, his tattered flannel pulling over his head while the other guy attempted to jump me. I dropped the second crack head with a quick punch to his jaw.

  Lights out for him.

  I started toward the driver’s side of my car when the bar’s door swung open. Out came the behemoth and two men I recognized from the table we’d passed on our way out. The redhead next to the three-hundred-pounder was cracking his knuckles.

  I held in a sigh.

  The blond with a buzz cut glanced at the two men already on the sidewalk and laughed, rubbing his fists together. My brother slowly opened the door, but I shook my head and he stayed inside.

  “Your brother has something that’s ours,” the redhead said, his eyes narrowing.

  I walked back around the front of the car and kicked my brother’s door closed. He’d only be a distraction.

  “Doubtful. He won those hands fair and square. Even left a winning hand without cashing out.” I spit on the ground and walked over to the three men. “Consider yourselves lucky.”

  The air crackled with tension from unfinished business that I had no control over. It was a familiar sensation, albeit tiring.

  The three men stopped and glared at me. This really wasn’t how I thought I’d be spending my night.

  The two crack heads got up from the sidewalk and scrambled away, tripping over their own feet.

  “It’s late. We should all get some sleep,” I told the men, offering them an out.

  “Not until we get what’s ours,” the blond guy said as the behemoth took a step forward.

  “And what do you think we have that’s yours?” My brow quirked.

  “He took our Bettys,” he responded.

  I had no clue what he was talking about. Twins, drugs, guns? I had no idea. My brother had slipped so far down, anything could be possible.

  “How do I know you didn’t give him the Bettys?” I folded my arms, glaring at all three men. “And decided you want them back?”

  The behemoth cracked his neck from side to side and took another step forward.

  The problem here was complicated.

  First, I didn’t know what the hell a Betty was, much less several of them. Second, even if I did and my brother had them, I wouldn’t give them back. That wasn’t how it worked in our circle. We didn’t do the giving. We did the taking. The moment we listened to people’s demands was the moment we lost our credibility.

  In order for that tradition to stay alive, this match had to be won.

  “You think you Volkovs run the streets, but you’re wrong,” the redhead snapped.

  “To be honest, I don’t give it much thought one way or the other.” I brought my gaze back to the big one. He was stretching his fingers, so I rolled up my sleeves.

  “Give us our Bettys back,” the blond barked.

  It didn’t sit well.

  “That’s not how it works. You know it, and I know it.” I licked my lips and felt the familiar tingle in my knuckles.

  The two small guys looked behind me and glared at my brother in the car.

  “Your brother’s a dead man,” the blond said, his eyes blazing. “We’ll show him no mercy.”

  I felt a change in the air, and the behemoth lunged toward me. I pivoted, landing a kick into his abdomen. The man stumbled back, but he launched toward me again. I quickly moved to the side and looped my arm around his neck. He landed a punch to my sore spot, which made me squeeze tighter. His knees dropped first, but once I started, I never stopped until the job was done. I polished him off with a quick head butt and knee to the chin to finish the task.

  The behemoth’s head met the concrete sidewalk like a bag of cement while the rest of his body jiggled from the weight he carried. He was out cold.

  My gaze flashed to the two men standing in front of me. Fear ran through them, but they were in too deep. Their shield of a man had crumbled before them, and now it was just us three.

  The redhead reached into his waistband, his fingers wrapping around his pistol grip, his eyes never leaving my brother.

  He didn’t want to play fair.

  I charged him before he even had a chance. I pushed him into the pavement, his head smacking against the concrete as I landed a solid punch to his temple. His pistol dropped to the sidewalk, but before I had a chance to kick it away, the blond jumped me from behind.

  The fury was pulsing through me at an unstoppable rate. No one threatened my family. I fell back onto him, smashing his body into the sidewalk and elbowing his side several times until he stopped squirming. I rolled off him and stood up. His eyes steadied on mine. He was dazed but coherent.

  The message would be clear.

  “The difference is, friend, I don’t have to ask you for mercy. I don’t have to beg you for shit.” I kicked the redhead in the gut and watched him curl into a ball.

  “Never threaten a Volkov. We’ll always finish the job that you started.” I knelt next to him and took his wallet out of his pocket, flipping it open to get a look at his identification. His eyes stared at me, begging me to stop. “For the record, the Wolf brothers don’t run the streets. We own them.” I stood up and glanced toward the bar. Not one person noticed, or if they did, they forgot what they saw as quickly as they wi
tnessed it.

  Tossing the wallet on the shaking guy on the ground, I unrolled my sleeves, walked to my car, and climbed in. My brother mumbled a thank you before falling asleep, and my gut twisted into knots.

  Mia was definitely out of the picture.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mia

  Jerks came in all shapes and sizes. Some of them just carried themselves better than the rest, stood out from the pack.

  I groaned and tossed my phone on the bed.

  Of course Drake canceled.

  His excuse was work, but it was a Sunday.

  I did receive a single red rose at my doorstep this morning, but that didn’t make me any happier.

  The gallery was closed until Tuesday, or I’d go try to mend fences with Ginger.

  I groaned in frustration. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t this girl. I was the one to keep men at a distance, not the other way around.

  This situation certainly highlighted why my method worked so well. I could devote all the time in the world to my art without distraction, without games. I didn’t do the dance well because if things didn’t go my way, I’d set the dance floor on fire.

  Maybe that was a little dramatic, the artist coming out again. I did tend to have a flair for the dramatic.

  I looked at the fridge. At least I still had some leftover cheesecake.

  But truth be told, I wasn’t easily tricked, and I’d fallen right into Drake’s hands, forgetting myself in the five-day process.

  I did better with walls.

  I just needed to construct them thicker and higher in New York . . . that was all.

  Problem solved.

  My cell rang, and I eyed it suspiciously, but relief spread through me when I saw Luke’s grinning face light up the screen.

  “How goes it?” I asked into the speakerphone.

  “Well, I thought things were pretty spectacular for me until I saw your good news. Sold out? I knew my little sister would tromp Manhattan.”

  I laughed nervously, afraid to jinx it.

  “Just lucky,” I corrected.

  “It’s not luck,” Hannah hollered in the background. “It’s pure talent.”

  “Well, thank you. Now, I’ve just got to figure out what to do with myself until your wedding.”

  “You could come out early,” Luke offered.

  “Very nice, but no. This time is for you and Hannah. Lord knows, you two have been working nonstop for months.” I glanced around my apartment, and the smallness was almost suffocating.

  Instead of seeing a chair, I saw a chair with Drake sitting in it. Rather than look out my window, Drake’s long, lean body stood next to the wall.

  I’d better build those walls quicker.

  “You okay?” Luke asked, sensing my distraction.

  “Totally. Just hit a little bump in the road.”

  “How big a bump?” Luke asked.

  We’d never been good at lying to one another.

  “What is it that Drake is into?”

  Nothing but silence came over the phone.

  “Luke?”

  “You slept with him.”

  “Not even,” I retorted.

  “Why do you care?” Luke’s patience was wearing thin.

  Because I didn’t want Mitch or Alex standing at my door the rest of the time I was in New York, I wasn’t going to tell him everything.

  Just enough for Luke to give me something.

  “When I mentioned that some guy got handsy and Drake stepped in . . .” I walked to the window, glancing down at the same city street that nearly changed my life. “It was a little more involved.”

  “With Drake or the jerk?” Luke asked.

  “Both. It wasn’t just handsy. It happened on the way to my apartment, and somehow, Drake happened to be passing by and stopped the attack.”

  “Mia, attack? Did you report it to the police? I’m sending Mitch. No, I’m sending Alex. In fact—”

  “Don’t you see, Luke?” I interrupted. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m not living like that anymore. You’d better not send anyone, or our relationship will be forever changed.”

  “Luke, give her some breathing room,” Hannah said into the phone.

  I thanked the heavens for my almost sister-in-law. She was one of the few who could talk sense into Luke.

  “Listen to your wife,” I teased, trying to soften the blow.

  Luke always put my safety first, and I knew hearing I was in danger only made him second-guess sending me to the event.

  “So, back to your question. I just want to know what this guy is involved with that is so bad. I’m sure you have your reasons—”

  “An easier question would be what isn’t he into.” Luke let out a deep breath. “His family is in deep.”

  “Deep into what?” I asked.

  “Would it even change your mind?” he asked, his voice softening.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your voice.”

  “What about my voice?” I asked, completely incensed. I hated being treated like a child. We weren’t teenagers any longer.

  “When you talk about him, the edge in your voice goes away.”

  “What edge?” I snapped.

  “That edge.”

  Hannah laughed in the background.

  I wanted to be mad, but it was true. I tended to be tough on the outside, saving my feelings solely for my studio, unless I was dealing with Luke, Hannah or his two closest employees, Mitch and Alex. Those last two probably knew more about my own life than I did. I wanted to resent them for it, but it was impossible.

  When we no longer had our parents, our lives changed into a living hell. The people who were after them set their sights on us next. What happened after that was enough to make most people fall apart.

  We just toughened up.

  We moved on.

  “It’s just hard to reconcile that he’s got some evil side when all I’ve seen is—”

  “A man coming to a woman’s rescue. It brings out the best in any man,” Luke said gruffly.

  “It worked on me,” Hannah teased, lightening the mood.

  I chuckled. My brother was her knight in shining armor, but Hannah was the one who saved my brother on many levels.

  I certainly wasn’t going to mention everything else that went on between Drake and me—the sideways glances, him staying the night to make sure I was okay, coming to the gallery to check on me, bringing me cheesecake.

  Yes, food always was and would be a way to my heart.

  And then there was the note. My heart squeezed just thinking about it.

  “Tell me what you think was on that jump drive she gave Drake.”

  Luke sighed into the phone, knowing I’d get my answers one way or another.

  “An arms list.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “He’s an arms dealer?” I choked out.

  “Among other things. He’s not a good man, Mia. He’s done things that—”

  My phone beeped, and I glanced at the screen.

  Speak of the Devil.

  “Mia? Was that your phone?” Luke questioned, already knowing the answer.

  “Yeah. Sorry, just Ginger from the gallery,” I lied and felt absolutely horrible about it.

  “No it wasn’t,” Luke replied flatly.

  “Psh. Whatever.” My pulse was racing.

  “He’s killed people, Mia.”

  I bit my tongue.

  So had my brother.

  “I hear you loud and clear. He’s not a good guy. I get it. I was just hopeful.” I sighed and slid onto my bed. “You know, I don’t get mushy, but seeing you about to get married has been messing with me. I kind of thought we were both lost causes when it came to love, but now I’m realizing it’s just one of us who is.”

  “You need to come to Nantucket early,” Hannah said, her sweet voice coming over the phone. “Decompress, celebrate your sold-out show, and—”


  “Thanks, but I need to stay around here this week in case Ginger needs something. I’m just being silly. I think I’m . . .” I scowled. “I think I just need a nap. Anyway, thanks for giving me the inside scoop.”

  “Doubt it did any good,” Luke grumbled.

  “Have faith in your sister. I’m not going to do anything that puts us in danger. I’m merely nosy, and you solved my curiosity all with a phone call. Nice work.”

  “If only I didn’t know you better.” Luke laughed, and I shifted onto the bed.

  “All right. Last call for the rest of the week.” I didn’t fall into his trap. “Promise. I’ll see ya next weekend. Enjoy the beach.”

  “Love ya, Mia.”

  “Love you too.” I ended the call, but I refused to look at the text that came over from Drake.

  I needed to sit with Luke’s admission, let it soak into me.

  Was that a good occupation for Drake to be involved with?

  Absolutely not.

  Did it explain why he might have to work on Sundays?

  Possibly.

  I groaned and slid under the covers.

  This was exactly where I belonged on a lazy Sunday. I pulled the sheet over my head and sank into the mattress.

  Why did he have to be so damn sexy?

  My phone buzzed again with a new text.

  Maybe Drake got off early.

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head, the fabric tugging over my cheeks.

  What kind of client hired my brother to look into alleged arms dealers? What does that say about my brother’s clientele? I doubted their background was impeccable. I shoved the sheet away and sat up in my bed.

  No point in hiding from Drake. I needed to set him straight.

  I wasn’t interested.

  But if that were true, why were my fingers tingling with excitement at the thought of getting to read his messages?

  I grabbed my phone and glanced down at his first message.

  Do you forgive me?

  “No,” I mumbled to myself and scrolled to the next one.

  I know I should stay away, but I can’t.

  I needed to listen to my brother. He was right. Any man would look like a knight in shining armor in the situation I encountered. Good men didn’t kill people. Good men didn’t make it so others could kill people.