His eyes twitch but he keeps his hand out. This kid is either new around here or very creeped out. Maybe both.
I don’t push it. I reach behind me to retrieve my pistol from my belt. “What happened here?” I ask him.
He takes the gun from me. “Mr. Zappia is upstairs,” he says, sliding out of my way. “He’ll tell you what you need to know.”
I move to pass him, but he juts out ahead of me again.
“Wait…” His eyes fall to my chest. “You need to raise your shirt.”
I keep an annoyed eye on him as I reach to untuck it from my belt. “Looking for wires, mate?”
“Not exactly.”
Tattoos.
I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s been months since Snake Eyes was exposed but a worldwide manhunt for its members is still a top priority.
I pull my leather jacket aside and present my bare chest to him. His eyes instantly fall to my abs where the now infamous cobra tattoo would be if I were a member. I’m not one, but it’s oddly flattering that he assumes that I could be. As horrible as they are, Snake Eyes agents are the best of the best.
Or were, I suppose.
“All right,” he says. “You can go on up.”
I take a step around him toward the stairs, my eyes scanning from one corner of the room to the other. It’s strange seeing a casino during the day when the tables are empty and the air doesn’t smell like cigar smoke and cheap booze.
It’s even stranger when it’s a damn crime scene.
As I ascend the stairs to Zappia’s office, I get a better look over the catwalk. The higher I climb, the more bloodstains I see. They’re scattered around the room, mostly hidden behind tables. I count six total.
Make that seven.
What the hell happened here?
“Allen…”
Enzo Zappia greets me in front of the office doorway. His face is sunken and gray. Black circles surround his eyes, making him look far older than our late-twentysomething age group. He’s seen some shit, that’s for sure.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Your old man called me.”
“Is that Archer?”
Enzo glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, Pops.”
“Bring him in.”
We step inside and I notice Enzo limping toward the couch in the corner. His foot is wrapped up in a white bandage with thick, red blood seeping through the straps. He plops down, hissing in pain.
I stay standing in front of Antony Zappia’s desk.
The old man glares up at me from his chair, looking far worse off than his offspring. Broken, defeated. Barely even breathing.
“Mr. Zappia,” I greet as politely as possible. “I know it’s taking longer than we agreed, but I just got a lead on Hart’s location. It won’t be long now.”
His eyes shift in his skull, floating from exhaustion as if they’ll suddenly detach and roll out of their sockets.
“Let him go,” he finally says.
Enzo leans forward. “Pops…”
Zappia silences him with a look. “Archer,” he says to me, “Dante Hart is no longer your concern.”
I furrow my brow. This is a far different tune than the one he sang when he hired me. Back then, he was angry, full of vengeance, and extremely willing to line my pockets with every dollar he had in exchange for dragging Hart back here by his toenails.
I clear my throat. “Sir, if I may ask…”
“I am old,” he says, licking his pale lips. “I am tired, and I am finished. I had my homeland taken from me. My middle son disappeared without a trace. Last night, my youngest was gunned down in front of me… and I can’t say he didn’t deserve it.” He falls quiet for a moment. “I deserved it.”
Enzo stands up, grimacing from the pain in his foot. “Pops—”
“Your contract is canceled,” Zappia tells me, ignoring his eldest son. “You will be compensated for your time and expenses, plus more if you don’t find that sufficient.”
I glance at Enzo. He stares silently at the floor with white-knuckle fists.
This is far from what I expected when I received his call this morning. I expected to beg for more time with a gun to my head. I’m not sure if I’m more thankful to be alive or more disappointed for losing a lucrative client.
“That’s more than sufficient, sir,” I say. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Zappia says nothing more. He turns in his chair, sinking a little further down into it. A little more and he’ll fuse with it completely. Maybe he’s better off that way.
I turn and walk back out onto the catwalk. As I descend the stairs, I look at the floor again, wondering which of these bloodstains belonged to Marty, the youngest Zappia boy.
The guard by the entrance pauses and reaches behind his back as I head his way. He silently hands me my gun and I offer a nod of gratitude before pushing open the entrance and stepping out into the thick, Chicago air.
Bloody hell is right.
I don’t envy the Zappia family, but I don’t pity them, either. Blood and heartache are what you should expect when you’re the most powerful mob family in Chicago. I saw the surprise in Zappia’s eyes. He didn’t see this coming at all.
Oh, well. I guess I need to find a new client.
“Allen.”
I pause, hearing Enzo’s deep growl behind me in the casino entrance. He hobbles over to me, frowning and wincing, and I have half a mind to wrap a hand around my gun’s grip.
“Enzo…” I say.
He halts in front of me. “Find Dante Hart.”
“You heard the old man,” I say. “I’m fired.”
“Well, I’m rehiring you. Whatever my father offered you for Dante, I’ll triple it.”
I raise a brow. “Why?”
“Because I want you to put a bullet in his fucking skull… and I want the twins, too.”
The twins. Elijah and Lilah. Dante’s little brother and sister.
I’ve been tracking them myself the last few weeks during my search for Dante. A whole family of Snake Eyes agents, each of them deadly in their own way. I’d rather not run into them again but if the price is right…
“What do you want them for?” I ask.
Enzo glances around, growing impatient. “Dante killed my little brother and I’d very much like to return the favor.”
“And Lilah?”
“That girl is a monster,” he says, his gaze twitching over his shoulder. “I saw it with my own eyes. She slit the throats of six men without making a sound. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up things in my life, but that…”
His voice falls and his spine visibly shudders with disgust.
I glance at the casino doors, doing everything in my power to conceal the admiration in my eyes.
“Well,” I take a step back, “I wish I could help you, Enzo, but I don’t kill. I capture. Even if I did, you’re talking about killing three Snake Eyes agents and that’s worth a hell of a lot more than triple the original bounty.”
“Name your price.” He steps closer. “Do what you have to do, but bring her to me. Alive.”
I recoil from the stench of his infected foot and body odor. “Fine.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “You contact me through the number on the back only. This whole arrangement is off-the-books. Understand?”
I flick the card between my fingers before stuffing it into my jacket. “I understand.”
Enzo spins around and limps back through the entrance.
I exhale a thick breath, thinking hard about what he just asked me to do. I’m lucky to be alive after my last encounter with the Hart twins. If I’m going to walk back into the snake pit to shackle Lilah for good, I’m going to have to be smart about it. I doubt she’ll let me walk away again.
I climb into my motor home across the car park and slam the door behind me. My eyes scan the place, from the driver’s seat to the washroom to my bed in the back, instinctively checking for stowaways bef
ore I sit down at my table in the kitchenette and open my laptop.
Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest idea where the twins are. I lost track of them back in Los Angeles. I let them go once I had a good lead on Dante. I didn’t need them anymore. They could be anywhere by now.
I pull out my phone to check my alerts. Tracking the Harts in the first place wasn’t easy but it got a little simpler once I dug a little into their family and discovered that Lilah has a credit card in her dead grandmother’s name. Not the smartest of cons but, as a new friend pointed out to me, she’s probably leaving a trail on purpose. I haven’t the slightest idea why that is but if she’s dropped a breadcrumb recently, then that’s a solid clue as to where they’d be right now.
My alerts are empty. No new charges since Los Angeles.
The only other lead I have is their childhood home in Geneva Lake, Wisconsin. I was heading there today when I got the call from Zappia. Every minute spent riding in the wrong direction is another opportunity for them to disappear for good.
But if Dante is hiding out there, there’s a chance the twins will be, too…
I glance longingly at my bed in the back but there’s no time for a nap. It’s two hours to the lake. I can sleep once I’ve got her.
Her. Lilah Hart. Petite, cute. Hair the color of fire with eyes to match. Our brief interaction included us in handcuffs, her knocking me senseless, and slipping free of said shackles — all within the span of about twenty seconds.
Needless to say, she left quite an impression on me.
I reach behind me and slide the pistol out of my belt again. It’s not mine, truth be told. It’s hers. Lilah dropped it back in Los Angeles. I’m not sure why I kept it, but I feel an odd jolt of excitement at the thought of returning it to her.
I meant what I told Enzo. I don’t kill. Never have. If he wants Dante and Elijah dead, that’s his problem, but I’ll nab Lilah for him. The price is fair and, hell…
It might even be a little fun.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading BROKEN LOVE! Boxcar and Caleb have a special place in my heart. I hope you loved them, too!
The next book in the Killer Love saga is coming soon and you don’t want to miss it!
They say she’s a monster… but I like that in a woman.
MAD LOVE is coming on October 29, 2019! Find out what happens when Archer finally gets Lilah in chains…
Pre-order now to receive it on release day!
Books by Tabatha Drake
Killer Love Saga
Killer Love
Secret Love
Tainted Love
Broken Love
Coming Soon…
Mad Love
Cruel Love
Endless Love
For more, go to
tabathadrake.com/books
About the Author
Tabatha Drake is the dark and dirty alter ego of USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Tabatha Kiss! She lives in Chicago, Illinois. You can probably catch her huddled up in a hoodie, reading a good romance beneath a tree with her trusty husky by her side. She enjoys roller derby, sushi, and is always searching for her forever bad boy. In the meantime, she writes.
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Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Tabatha Drake
All Rights Reserved. Kindle Edition.
Cover Design by Cover Me Timbers
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Broken Love Page 18
