Relentless: A Bad Boy Romance (Bertoli Crime Family #1)

by Lauren Landish

  “No, sir. I need to get Adriana to her next class now.”

  “We’ll talk when you get home. Goodbye.”

  I hung up my phone and walked back over to Adriana, who was still staring at her book but hadn't turned a page yet. Kneeling down, I looked her in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked, her eyes wide and frightened, and shook her head softly. “I just want this to end.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Let's go now. I don’t want to go to my next class.”

  After dinner, which I ate by myself in the kitchen while Adriana ate with her family, I went out to meet with Adam, this time at the Starlight Club. The manager, cued in to my coming, met me at the door. “Sir, it is good to see you.”

  “Bullshit,” I said with a small chuckle and an apologetic shrug. “You're just worried that I'm going to do something stupid again.”

  I took off my coat and unbuttoned my shirt, showing him I wasn't carrying a pistol. I'd left it locked inside the borrowed Lexus that I was driving while Don Bertoli's expert worked on my car. They'd already gone over it in the few hours we'd been home and assured me that nobody had left anything inside, but after they were done, anyone even touching my car would end up recorded, and I'd get a message about it.

  The manager of the Starlight Club looked me over, then nodded. “I'll be honest, you had us scared last time.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said, thinking back to the lack of control I'd shown. That might work for your average street gangster, but not for one of Don Bertoli's men. “Is Carmen okay?”

  “She took a few days off, but she's back to work,” the man said. “In fact, she's working tonight. Would you like to say hello? No private rooms though.”

  “Not right now,” I replied, taking out a small pack of hundred-dollar bills. “Actually, I have a friend coming. He's doing some work for me, and I'd like to reward him with a little private dance from Carmen. She's just his type. After I leave, of course. Think she could schedule him in?”

  He looked at the bills, greed flaring in his eyes. In the world of the Starlight Club, sex and money ruled everything. “I think that could be arranged. Your friend knows how to follow the rules?”

  “He's much better behaved than I am. Let me grab a table, and I'll call you over when he arrives.”

  He nodded, and I found a table in the quietest corner of the club. The bouncer, a big moose of a guy named Shawn, who I knew was more look and aura than actual ability, kept his eye on me, but I just gave him a nod of understanding. I was there to stay under control and get some business done.

  Adam showed up, amazingly, right on time, his face flushed as he walked in the door. On stage, a rather flexible, surgically enhanced blonde by the name of Tammy Twister was showing the crowd exactly how she'd earned her stage name.

  “God damn, you think I'm going to be able to focus with that going on in the background?” Adam said as he sat down. His eyes were so fixed on Tammy that he nearly missed the chair before finding his seat.

  “If you can focus, there's a certain young lady I'd like to introduce you to later,” I said by way of enticement. “I must say, though, that I've been a little disturbed by your lack of progress.”

  He pulled his eyes away from the stage as Tammy's music ended and she collected her few articles of clothing and left the stage with a little wave of her fingers to the crowd. Reflecting on what I'd just said, he shrugged. “What can I say, man? You're right. This Drake character has got some skills that go beyond the normal level of scum that you and I have dealt with.”

  “No shit,” I said, reaching into my coat and pulling out another thumb drive. “He sent this today, complete with photos taken within the past two weeks—close enough to easily be within rifle shot. Those shots are at ground level too. It's not like he was on top of a building or in a hotel across the street or anything.”

  Adam nodded and put the thumb drive into his shirt pocket. He pulled out another drive, the same one I'd given him before, and handed it to me. “That jives with what little I've been able to find out. I copied what I could find, but most of it is just background.”

  “Give me the run down, so I can tell Carlo when I get back. I can look over the details later.”

  Adam gestured to the waitress, ordering a Jack and Coke. I asked for just mineral water. I didn't want any issues with alcohol right then. The waitress walked off, her ass swaying side to side, Adam getting himself an eye full before turning back to me. “This guy is scary, Daniel. I can't get the exact operational details, but I was able to find some people who were willing to talk generalities with me. After enlisting, he specialized in what some people would call enhanced interrogation techniques, teaching some of those skills to groups who later on were accused of human rights violations and were taken before international courts.”

  “Shit,” I commented, nodding to the waitress when she gave us our drinks. I took a sip of my mineral water, wishing for a moment I'd asked for a whiskey instead—I could've used it. “So how'd this fucker get a job teaching sculpting at a major art college?”

  “Apparently, Drake took a little vacation from reality right after the first Gulf War,” Adam said. “The military, of course, kept it hush-hush. It isn't good for a Spec Ops guy who was just teaching at the School of the Americas only six months prior to go off his nut. From the one source that was able to talk to me, the hospital they sent him to used a lot of—get this—artistic therapy. Knowing they'd never let him back into service, the military rehabbed him and even paid for him to attend college, where of course, he became an artist. Financially, he did pretty well too, which is probably why he got the job he did. Looking over who bought his pieces, though, a trend emerged.”

  “What?”

  Adam took a drink of his Jack and coke and sat back. “The only people who bought his shit were government sources or military contractors. I saw a picture of a statue he did for Fort Drum, up in New York. I think my little cousin did better last month with his fucking Play-Doh.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “And the military never thought to check up to see if their little wind-up toy stayed repaired?”

  “Hey, it'd been twenty-two years since he got out of the hospital,” Adam said. “Guess they figured they'd done their bit for him, and that whatever was fixed would stay fixed. Most of the people who felt they owed him a debt of gratitude were either retired or dead, and the new generation of brass just wants to forget the bad side of it all. Besides, who the fuck knew he was breaking down again until he snapped? The first sign was the sexual harassment claim by Adriana, and a lot of people hadn't believed her, dismissing it as an oversensitive college girl's whine.”

  “And now everyone who caused this asshole to become what he became is just hoping he gets himself captured or killed before he gives the military a black eye,” I finished. “Is there even an investigation?”

  Adam shook his head. “Doubt it. They might be providing some background support to the Seattle police, but with only two murders, graphic as they are, there's no real cause for the FBI or anyone else with the Feds to try and step in. There's no Colonel Trautman coming to try and pull this Rambo out of the woods this time. This is in the hands of the locals.”

  “Who can't even stop a rampaging preschooler on a sugar rush,” I replied with no amusement. “And your efforts to find him?”

  “He's picked up some computer skills somewhere. That first email that you handed to me, I dissected the code. It had some decent work involved. He knows well enough how to use the Deep Web and mask his steps, at least. Combine that with his military skill at blending in, and he's going to be tough to track. He's going to have to make a mistake, I think.”

  “I can't stay by Adriana's side forever,” I said, though I wished I could. “I don't think Mr. Bertoli would like it if we spent the rest of her life attached at the hip.”

  “Bet you would, though,” Adam said, setting his drink down when I shot him a dirty look. “What? She's a beautiful girl.”r />
  “Still, don't even joke that way,” I warned him. I finished off my drink, then sighed. “All right, well, I still want you on this. He's got to have made a mistake somewhere.”

  “I'll do my best,” Adam said, polishing off his Jack and Coke. “Daniel, I know this one's important to you. I'm serious that I'm going to do my best.”

  I nodded, then rubbed my hands together, trying to relieve my tension. It was time for me to get back to where I wanted to be, next to Adriana, making sure she was safe. “And I appreciate it. In fact, I thought I'd give you a little preview of my appreciation. Wait right here.”

  I signaled to the manager, who nodded in understanding and disappeared to the back while I went up to the bar. Carmen came out a minute later, a professional smile on her face but still a hint of concern on her face. “Hi, Carmen.”

  “I heard you wanted me to spend some time with a friend of yours?” she said, leaning against the bar. I didn't think she was trying to give me a preview of her boobs, but with my height and her clothes, that was what happened. This time, though, she was professional, not seductive. “That him over there?”

  “That he is,” I said. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry about last time.”

  She shrugged it off, a true pro. “I've been doing this for three years. I've seen stressed out men before. You did scare the hell out of me, but you seem like a decent guy.”

  “People keep telling me that recently, for some fucking reason,” I replied, getting her to smile a little bit. Leaning in, keeping my elbows and hands on the bar and clear of Carmen so as not to scare her, I lowered my voice. “Be nice, okay? Don't play him and milk him for everything he's got.” I motioned over to Adam. “Come with me.”

  We walked over, and Adam's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull when the little Latina came around in front of him, her hair pulled back into hasty pigtails and her outfit actually helping with the look. “Adam, this is Carmen, a friend of mine. Carmen, this is Adam. I have to go, but you two have fun.”

  “Th . . . thanks,” he said, his eyes fixed not on Carmen's chest, but on her face. She did have a pretty face, I had to agree, but still, she was taken aback to the point that she blushed a little and gave a genuine smile. She was probably used to her customers never looking higher than her breasts. “Hi. Would you like to sit down?”

  I turned and left, waving the manager over. “Make sure they both have a good time, okay? Call me if there's a problem later.”

  “Okay, sir. And thank you.”

  “Don't mention it.”

  Driving back to the Bertoli estate, I had to smile as I thought of the look that passed between Carmen and Adam. I didn't know much about the girl, to be honest, but she seemed okay—just doing what she needed to do to survive.

  When I got back, I was shocked to find Margaret Bertoli standing in the foyer, concern written on her face. “Mrs. Bertoli, what's wrong?”

  “Adriana,” she said, her eyes filled with worry. “She's been trying to go to sleep, but she's woken up twice now in the past hour, panicked and screaming. Daniel, I know you're trying, but you need to deal with this man who’s doing this to her.”

  I nodded and took the thumb drive Adam had given me out of my jacket. “I got this tonight. Later on, I'll give it to Mr. Bertoli. It's more background information on Vincent Drake. I'll take a look at it after I talk to Adriana.”

  “Daniel . . .” she said, then nodded. “Fine. See if you can assure her that she's safe. Carlo and I certainly can't right now, it seems.”

  I rushed over to Adriana's bedroom, finding her sitting up in bed, her eyes haunted and her hands in her lap. “Dan . . . where were you?”

  “Talking to my private investigator,” I said. “Don't worry, I'm back.”

  “I'm having problems going to sleep,” she said.

  “You're scared,” I said simply. Margaret was still in the room with us, so instead of taking her hand, I simply knelt down on the floor next to her bed. “Ade, you don't have to worry. I'm going to make sure you're safe.”

  “How? He got close enough to take those photos,” Adriana said, revealing that she'd seen the email. I cursed under my breath at whatever dumb fuck had let her see them, then nodded.

  “I know. But he won't get anywhere near you here, especially since I'm going to stay right here, sitting in a chair outside your room all night. Nobody's going to get by me.”

  Adriana nodded, her eyes filled with trust. “Daniel . . . thank you.”

  “Get some sleep, Ade. You've got that math class tomorrow, remember? Don't worry.”

  Margaret spoke with her daughter for a little while as I went down the hall and grabbed a chair from the library, arranging it and my laptop next to Adriana's door. I was just sitting down when Mrs. Bertoli came out. “Do you really plan on staying here all night?”

  “Yes,” I said simply. “If she calls out, I'll be there before she can even fully wake up.”

  She looked at me for a moment, then patted my shoulder. “Thank you, Daniel. After this . . . you and I should have a talk.”

  “About what, ma'am?”

  She smiled. “About my brother-in-law's rules, and how sometimes they need to be changed. Good night, Daniel.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Bertoli. Sleep well.”

  She went down the hallway, and I looked to my left and right. Adriana's temporary room was buried in the interior of the house, with no windows to the outside, on the first floor in a relatively unused part of the guest wing. The house was quiet, and I sighed. Opening my laptop, I fired it up and decided that I could do a little bit of reading up on the information Adam had given me before I closed my eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Adriana

  If there was one thing that was supposed to be a benefit of the new threat from Vincent, it was that the university's IT department finally agreed to change my student email. With how persistent he was, I don't know how much it would help, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.

  Walking out of the IT building that afternoon with Daniel next to me, I smiled and stretched my arms over my head. The weather was great, and it was just one of those days where it was hard to feel bad, regardless of what was going on. “Well, score one for the good guys.”

  “If we're the good guys, that is,” Daniel said with a smirk. “I don't think I make anyone's list of good guys.”

  “We can call you the anti-hero then,” I replied with a punch to the shoulder. “You know, the bad guy with a giant redemptive streak.”

  “I can live with that,” Daniel said, then shook his head a moment later. “Check that. I guess I've gotten used to people calling me at least decent over the past few days. It feels a bit strange. I'm used to being called a heartless bastard, or a similar sentiment.”

  “Okay, how about the good guy who sometimes does the hard thing?” I said instead as we walked down the stone steps and out into the quad. “I think that's a pretty good guy, actually, a lot better than most of the so-called good guys out there who aren't strong enough to stand up for what they believe in. And there's no way you could be called a heartless bastard.”

  “Much better. So what do you want to do between now and your last class? Which, by the way, I hate. The professor keeps staring at me while you guys fuck around on your computers doing Photoshop or whatever.”

  I laughed, realizing that Daniel didn't understand. “Dan, Professor Wilson's gay. He probably thinks you're hot. Or haven't you noticed that you have an effect on quite a few members of the student body?”

  “Not concerned in how the rest of the student body reacts to me,” Daniel said. He was scanning the quad again in his Terminator mode, more personable than he'd been the first day, but still focused on his job above all else. “I'm worried about you.”

  I knew what he was saying, but I blushed anyway. It had been touching that morning to find Daniel, still in his suit from the night before, sitting in the chair outside my room, his eyes open and looking to me when I cracked my door open.


  Now, after a morning class and going to the administration office, he looked more than slightly worn out. He may be the Terminator, but he wasn't quite Superman. “Tell you what, let's go over to the student union and get you some coffee. It's not the best, but you need a shot of caffeine or something, and the place is busy enough that Drake wouldn't dare show his face. You can slack off for an hour while I keep my eyes open. We can even sit with my back to the wall.”

  Daniel smiled, then yawned. “Is it that obvious?”

  “My math class is boring, but I've never seen your head droop before today,” I said. I stepped in front of him and put my hand on his chest, stopping him. “You're an amazing guy who's busted your ass for the past few weeks, but you're not invincible. You need sleep, too.”

  “I'll take twenty-four hours to do nothing but sleep after I ensure that Drake is in the ground,” Daniel replied.

  I knew for sure he was exhausted. He hadn't even made a sexual joke about taking me to bed with him. I was starting to miss the little game we played, even though neither of us ever acted on it. I patted his chest and turned around. “Come on, Dan. For the next sixty minutes, you're on break. I'll buy you the coffee after you close your eyes for a while. Trust me, I know exactly where to go.”

  The student union of my university has some pretty cool little areas, one of which was the so-called Student Performance Center on the second floor. Created and funded by a grant from one of the local tech giants, it had a lot of stuff that was supposed to help students relax, study, or just get their minds together better. A lot of it was junk, in my opinion, but there was one that would be useful at the moment.

  “What's this?” Daniel asked as I led him inside, bouncing on the slightly squishy padding on the floor. “I'm tired, not insane. I don't need a padded room.”