by S. M. Soto
I laugh. “That’s not the saying, but I appreciate the notion. Want to hold him?”
“Not even a question.”
She slides next to me on the bed, lifting a sleeping Angel into her arms. She rubs his back in gentle circles to keep him asleep. “Where’s Creed?”
I give her a look. “Out. Doing god knows what.”
She winces. “Sorry.”
“No, no. You’re fine. I just…I hate not knowing what he’s doing. If he’s okay. It drives me nuts.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. I mean, have you met the guy, Soph? He’s a brick wall. Scary as shit if you ask me.”
I laugh because, well, she does have a point. “I know. I’m just worried, and rightfully so. We only have five weeks until the wedding, I need him in one piece. But of course, telling Creed that doesn’t work, he just brushes me off and says he’s careful. It’s not just him I’m worried about. It’s everyone else too.”
Alexis places her hand on my thigh. “Stop thinking. He’s fine. Why don’t we talk about what’s really important here—your wedding planner with the wandering eyes.”
I groan. “You noticed too?”
Alexis scoffs. “Noticed? Girl, that was the only thing I did notice. It’s indecent the way she looks at him. If I was you, I’d have half the mind to slap her.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve thought about it a time or two. I think Creed started to notice, so he keeps contact between the two of them strictly to emails. If she has a question about something, he’s been directing the call to me.”
Alexis sighs, a smirk twisting her lips. “Gotta love a faithful man.” She shifts her position with Angel so she can turn toward me, facing me. “Are you ready? I mean, really, really ready? You’re going to be Sophia Sabella, queen of the mafia soon. How does it feel?”
“Like that’s a title I really want to share with everyone.” I shoot her a glare. “But other than that, I’m excited. I hate that my parents aren’t here. I hate that Creed’s mom won’t be here to see him, but at least I have you guys, right?” At Alexis’ silence, I narrow my gaze. “Right?”
“I’m going to be there—of course I’m going to be there, but…I’m not sure I want my family here.”
“Lex,” I groan.
“Just hear me out, okay? I know Creed promised security will be top of the line, blah, blah, blah, but my family is smart, they’re going to take one look at this lavish wedding and Creed’s ‘famiglia,’ and they’re going to know. That’s going to cause a whole slew of problems for me I won’t even get into.”
I make a contemplative noise. “You sure you just don’t want to explain Jose to your family?”
She presses her lips together, scowling at me. “Shut up.”
I laugh, raising my hands outside of my head. “Hey, it was just a suggestion. No need to get worked up.”
“Don’t you need to take a shower or something?” she snarks, a playful hint in her tone. “You smell like baby.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” I ask, tone affronted.
She cracks a cheeky grin, dipping her head down to smell Angel. “Not a damn thing. But seriously, go take a shower. I hear new mom life is atrocious.”
With a roll of my eyes, I hop off the bed, doing just that.
I lean against the brick wall in the shadowed alley, across from P. King’s restaurant. Chicago nightlife is in full swing on this side of town. Sirens wailing, loud chatter of tourists walking to find a good bar or a highly rated restaurant on Yelp. It’s cold as shit out here tonight. the wind is brisk and rough, settling into the marrow of your bones.
Eyes fixed on the metal back door that leads into the kitchen, I wait, with my hands stuffed in my suit slacks, an Italian loafer propped against the wall behind me.
When I hear a clang of dishes inside and a yelp, I blow out a haggard sigh. I guess someone is making tonight much more difficult than it needs to be. Pushing off the jagged brick wall, I stride across the alley toward the back entrance, slipping my Desert Eagle out. I yank the handle open and just like I expected, I find Pei and his wife, fighting off my culprit for tonight—Julian Silva.
Irritation thrums through my veins when I stalk inside the back of the restaurant, all eyes swinging to me, and Julian tries to run.
Fucking idiot.
. Snatching him by the back of his jacket, I slam him down on the cutting table in the kitchen, pressing the barrel of my eagle against his skull.
I tsk. “Why do you insist on testing my patience, Julian?” He tries to fight my hold on him. It’s futile. With a sigh of irritation, I slam the butt of my eagle across his face, stunning him. “Now,” my tone is filled with boredom as I lean into him. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know, Julian, because I have much better places I’d rather be.”
“I ain’t got shit for you, man,” he growls, blood dribbling from his now busted nose.
“That’s not what Mr. Elliot had to say. So, who’s lying? Your landlord, or you?” With my free hand, I feel for the butcher knife I saw resting on the cutting table and grip the handle. “Because my gut says it’s you.”
“Already told you—”
I rear my fist back, jabbing him in the face and while he’s moaning and griping over that, I yank his arm out, raising the butcher knife. His body stills when he sees the glint of metal. I feel the shudder of fear wrack through his body.
“Now, now,” I tsk. “You might want to start with the truth.”
His lips press together, and he glares up at me. I shake my head.
Why are criminals so stupid?
I swing the butcher knife down on his wrist and just like I expected, his mangled scream fills the air, his blood spraying from his arm. His severed hand lies on the chopping table, soaked in a pool of blood already.
Looks like tonight is going to be another messy one.
“Try again, Julian. You can still live a happy life with one hand,” I taunt as he chokes on his cries of complete agony. I give him a few seconds to gather himself, but when it doesn’t seem to be enough, I raise the butcher knife again and he yells.
“Okay! Okay!” His body is vibrating with pain, causing his body to seize with it. “I told you I don’t know no David Kincaid—” I growl, preparing to slam the knife down on him again but he chokes, tears coursing down his cheeks. “Wait! Just fucking wait—I don’t know a David Kincaid but there’s a man, he’s into some dark shit. They call him ‘the Sinner Man’. He grants favors for people, word on the street his name is Don—Don Kincaid. I swear to you, that’s the only Kincaid I know. I swear!”
I toss the bloodied butcher knife onto the floor where it clatters against the tile. Grabbing a random towel, I hold it up against his flesh, where I severed his hand and apply pressure. Julian howls out in pain.
“Looks like you get to live, Julian. You up for one more job?”
He whimpers with pain and I grin. I have a Sinner Man to find.
“EVERYTHING IS IN PLACE?” I ask Monte, adjusting my cufflink. I move onto my opposite arm, repeating the process.
“Security is in place. Wulferic and his men are here as well. They blend in with the rest of the suits. Well, Wulferic does, I can’t say much for the rest of his crew. The church is surrounded, and we’re doing body searches on each guest before they arrive and exit.”
I nod, the heaviness in my chest easing the slightest bit at the reassurance. I’ve done my due diligence, I’ve put in all the work, paid attention to all the small details in order to give Sophia her dream wedding. It’s the biggest event in Chicago this weekend. In the famiglia and in the underworld. With the guest list being exclusive to members of the Cosa Nostra and other associates of the family.
This isn’t a free for all, everyone who got invited will be accounted for and marked off. Everyone will be searched, and no one is getting into my wedding, or near my girl and son without my say so. I wasn’t taking any chances with David Kincaid still out trying to ruin me. I haven’t found him yet, bu
t once I do? I’m going to enjoy making him bleed. But that wouldn’t be today. A red wedding wasn’t on the agenda.
Monte and Clarence are tapped into the city cameras along the streets surrounding the church. Surveillance is set up at the botanical garden where the vows will be exchanged and where the reception will be held. We’ll have men outside of the church and inside, checking for anyone on the list who weren’t invited.
I have security working the outside of each location, men watching from the skyscrapers. Then there’s the famiglia, they’ve been instructed to keep things civil if anything should go awry. I even called in extra enforcements, asking Wulferic and his men to show. He wasn’t too surprised, seeing as we’ve been working closely together after Ricky’s death. He and his men offered to keep Sophia safe in exchange for aiding me in my search of the Sinner Man. A man whose name and alter ego were getting on my last nerve. It’s never taken me this long to find anyone. Everyone seems to know the Sinner Man, but they don’t know him. It was becoming a problem.
I’ve had Monte and Clarence look into things with agent David Kincaid one last time to be sure he doesn’t have anything up his sleeve for the wedding. I promised Sophia a fairy tale. A day she’d remember for the rest of her life. A day we can look back on in the photographs. And if anyone tried to fuck that up, I was going to start sawing limbs from bodies. And if anyone with the bureau tries to ruin it? I’ll end all of them. Right then and there, I don’t care who’s around as a witness.
Consequences be damned.
Everything has been radio silent since my last run in with agent Scott Aldrich, but none of my information has been wiped, they just haven’t acted upon anything—and I want to know why. Even the authorities at Chicago PD seem to have cooled off since my surprise visit. As far as we can tell, they aren’t digging. They’ve dropped their “case” with the photos. Either my FBI and precinct shake up worked, or they’re each planning something bigger. There’s a sinister part of me that gets the sense they’re waiting for the perfect time to strike. I’ll be damned if I let that be today.
Our wedding is as traditional Catholic as it can get, something my mother would be rolling over in her grave about if I didn’t follow through with. She lived by the Catholic code and swore it was her only saving grace while living in this life.
There’s a soft rap on the door, and when it opens, warmth fills my chest at the sight. Dressed in a little tux that matches mine is Angel. Garrett hands him off to me, and I nod toward the table, indicating the box he still needs to give Sophia before mass and the ceremony starts.
“You ready?” I ask Angel even though I know he has no idea what’s going on.
I find myself doing this with him often. When I can’t find it in me to talk to anyone else, he’s my sounding board. He’s still innocent. A complete angel, unable to process all the evil I’ve done, all the evil I’ll continue to do, but the way he looks up at me, like I’m his entire world? Makes me feel like I just might be doing something right. It didn’t matter what wrong I did in the world, what souls I took or how dark of a taint it left on my soul, my son looked up at me like I hung the world and so did my girl.
Garrett slaps me on the back in that brotherly way. When I look up at him, I see all the things he’s unable to say.
Take care of her.
Thank you.
Congratulations.
The first time I met Garrett Cova, back when Jeremy blackmailed and recruited me to join HawkFire, this is not where I’d expected our meet would lead us. Killing together to my future brother-in-law.
Even though I say Jeremy blackmailed me, I know deep down, I could’ve easily killed him, and the problem would’ve been solved. I hate to admit it, but a part of me wanted to do good—even if it was on a dirty scale like HawkFire was. Jeremy had put together his team to appease his liaison with home. I think he truly believed, at the time HawkFire was the lesser of two evils. A way to get rid of the bad guys when no one else had the guts to do it. After learning about my past and knowing what I could do, it was a no-brainer for him to have me stay with HawkFire. Why not have the worst criminals running the rest of them?
I remember the first time I heard about Garrett’s sister being abducted. I made it my mission not to get close to any of the men I killed with. It wasn’t like me—it wasn’t in me to care for others. But I remember how despondent he was, like his whole entire world was crashing down around him. I didn’t understand the notion. I never had a sibling and the one I might’ve had died before that could ever be a possibility, and it was my fault. I’d only ever lost one person, and since her death, I’d cut myself off from everything and everyone.
Garrettwas a mess, unfocused, likely to get himself killed, and still, I couldn’t bring myself to help. To offer my services. To turn back into the ghost to help him find the bastards who took his little sister. When he brought it to the rest of the guys, I played along. Helping when and however I could, but my biggest regret is not trying hard enough. Maybe then, we could’ve found her earlier.
Unable to help myself, on one of the nights I couldn’t sleep, I walked into the sitting room, to pass a few hours until dawn. Looking out the back window that overlooked the grounds was the best way to do that. Out into nothing but the bleak darkness that mirrors what’s inside of me. There’s always the likely chance that whatever is beyond that window, that outside world, the men from the famiglia will come looking for me. Only, this time, when I step into the sitting room, I spot a disheveled Garrett splayed out across the couch asleep. Paperwork, photographs, and files were scattered across the coffee table and unable to help myself, I walked deeper into the room. Part of me knew I should’ve turned around, headed back the way I came and minded my own business. But the paperwork was beckoning me, the information practically calling my name. And as I looked at his disheveled form, I didn’t necessarily feel sorry for him, but I did want him to pull himself together. He was a sad sack of shit. After all the team’s failed attempts at finding his sister, he still hadn’t given up even when the guys knew deep down, she likely wasn’t alive anymore. It had been almost eight months since her disappearance. Even I knew the likelihood of her still being alive was slim. It wasn’t impossible, just slim. One in a fucking million—but that was Sophia.
Darting my gaze to his slumped form, I picked up the thickest section of the file, and took the chaise opposite of the table, turning everything toward me to get a better look. The first photo sitting in the file caused my heart to skid to an abrupt halt.
When Cova stated his little sister was missing, I thought she was just that, a little girl. A child. The woman in the photograph was no such thing. She was beautiful, with the brightest green eyes and soft delicate features. Before I realized what I was doing, I was neck deep in the files, in her photos, her last whereabouts. Reading over previous statements and possible leads. Though none of it made sense.
Even if she had been kidnapped, she’d have turned up dead by now. So I knew that wasn’t the case, it was something deeper. Someone either had a vendetta and she was collateral, or it was something much darker. It isn’t unusual for girls to go missing and never be seen again. But those girls? They often get sold into twisted partnerships. Fed drugs. All of it to become someone’s property because men think it’s a lucrative business. To own a soul. To sell the lives of men, women and children.
That was the only thing Matteo had ever done that I agreed with, he didn’t deal in the selling of men and women. The selling of life. It was too close to what his marriage with my mother was like.
My eyes narrowed on the paperwork, my brain working a million miles a minute. If Monte and Clarence were there, they’d be able to do some deep digging. If I really wanted to, I could too. But that would mean showing these men I have a different side to me. Showing them I care. And that would mean I have a weakness. Even be it small.
I slapped the file down, pushed up to my feet and started walking away, not willing to butt into someone else’
s problems. My footsteps slowed when I got near the archway and I glanced back at the coffee table. With a growl of frustration, I walked back to the table, slipping out a few docs and left.
Once I was back in my room, I laid out the information. One doc with a picture of his little sister, containing all her information. The other statements from coworkers, police, friends, etc. And the final one was the last satellite image of her getting into her car the night she was abducted. I stared down at the spread, my brows furrowed in thought.
“Where are you, Sophia?” I whispered aloud to myself, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
When we eventually found her at the mansion in Dubai, I truly didn’t recognize her. It was just another assignment. Go in, kill, then retrieve. We didn’t go there knowing she’d be there, it was just by chance, if anything. I thought nothing of it until I had the broken woman in my arms, practically dying. When she looked up at me, green eyes I’d only ever seen in pictures staring back up at me, without their spark, it left me speechless. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things. It could’ve been anyone with green eyes. Surely, the universe wouldn’t hand her over on a silver platter? That was almost too easy.
But I wasn’t wrong. Deep in my gut, I knew I wasn’t.
In the SUV, when we were pulling away and she whispered Garrett’s name, my lips thinned because I was right. I even knew deep down, when I looked at her, she was the one. I was oddly captivated by her after that. Watching her heal in a bed with all the wires connected to her while she was in a coma. She was starving, having to be fed by an IV because her body didn’t want to accept fluids anymore. Having to deal with a catheter. She dealt with most things most grown men couldn’t even handle—I’d seen it. She was broken beyond belief, I realized it when I’d hear her night terrors, practically sucking her back into the past and whatever she endured.
She was an enigma.
One I knew I should keep my distance from, but whatever connection I felt toward her, she seemed to feel it too because she was always there, watching me, waiting for me, wanting me to give into her. She was the biggest temptation if there ever was one. And I found myself wanting to protect her. Wanting to shield her and keep the darkness out of her eyes. I wondered what she’d look like with that spark back. The same spark she had in all her photos. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again. It wasn’t until that fateful day out on the grounds. When she crushed that rose and flayed herself open for me to see.
