With Us (The Amato Series Book 1)

by Layla Frost

  “Now we do have a problem with Astaire. Mr. Ricci is dealing with it.”

  “Cazzo.” Shoving my way through the crowd, I nodded my head at security as I entered a long hallway. I pushed open the makeshift locker room to see Luc, Niall, and Astaire in a deep and heated conversation.

  Astaire looked up and saw me, having the good sense to look embarrassed. “Man, I told them it wasn’t a big deal. Just a stupid thought.”

  I had no fucking clue what he was talking about, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Still a thought you had. Which means it’s something I need to know about. Now I want to hear it from you. Where’s your head at?”

  “This man, he came in here telling me I could make more at these other fights. He said I could go more often. Every day, if I wanted. Then he flashes me bank, says my signing bonus would be even more. My ma works her ass off taking care of my little brother and sister. I help, but it isn’t enough.”

  I fought to keep my temper. At only nineteen, Astaire was just a kid, and new to the circuit. He had a gift, his fancy footwork giving him an edge and a nickname.

  “You know why you only fight once a month?” I asked. “It’s because your body needs time to heal. You fight every day, you’ll get ripped apart within a couple months and that’ll be it. Then how’re you supposed to help your mom?”

  He mumbled something, looking down.

  “You need more money, you talk to Sammy about it. If he thinks you’re earning it, he’ll make it happen. But don’t believe bullshit lies some jerkoff is spouting.”

  “That’s why I said, it was just a thought. I get offers like that all the time, but this guy’s that famous one. His face is all over those lawn signs about the election.”

  “Larson?” Luc asked.

  Astaire nodded, holding his finger up. “Yeah, that guy.”

  I met Luc’s gaze, my patience with Senator Ethan Larson coming to an end.

  Between his title and his filthy rich upbringing, Larson thought he could buy and sell the world. I’d become an obsession of his since I wouldn’t let him buy into my businesses, legal or otherwise.

  It was past time for him to move on to a new hobby.

  “Where’s Frankie?” I asked Astaire, referring to his manager. The man who was supposed to cut off anyone trying to encroach.

  Astaire shrugged. “No clue.”

  “Alright, kid, you’re up soon so we’ll let you get ready.” I opened the door, Niall and Luc following me out. Taking a few steps, we passed another door. When I heard a small noise, I took a big step back and threw it open.

  Frankie was up against a built-in rack, some blonde girl on her knees in front of him.

  “Fucking fuck!” I yelled, wishing I had some bleach to throw in my eyes. Looking up, I shook my head. “There a reason you’re not in there with your fighter, Frankie?”

  “He said he wanted some alone time,” Frankie lied. “I was just… I mean, I figured—”

  “Wait!” the woman said, no longer having her mouth full. “You said Astaire wanted me to… you know, but only if I was good.”

  Not looking back in the closet, I tilted my head toward the locker room. When Niall opened the door, I yelled in. “You ask Frankie to go get you a girl?”

  Astaire stepped into the hallway as he wrapped his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t bust on fight nights.”

  I glanced back in the room. “Try again, Frankie.”

  “You fucking pig!” the girl screeched, launching herself at him.

  “Hold on,” Luca said, hooking an arm around her waist.

  I turned to Astaire again. “You attached to Frankie?”

  He shook his head. “Not particularly. He ducks out early and shit.”

  “Fire him.”

  Shrugging, Astaire turned to Frankie. “You’re fired.”

  Frankie started spewing his excuses, but Astaire returned his attention to me.

  “Sammy will find you a new manager, new trainer, all that shit,” I told him. “I don’t put my hands in any of that or I’d do it myself. If he thinks you’re earning it, new payment will be arranged. In the meantime, you have issues, you go to him. Or, if you need to, you contact Mr. Ricci or myself. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said with a nod, not bothering to look at Frankie again as he headed back to prepare for his match.

  “I catch you at any of these fights, Frankie, you’re going to regret it,” I promised him. “You’re out of this circuit. You don’t leave one of my fighters on his own so he can get poached. Especially if it’s so you could get off using his name.”

  “You can’t fucking do that!” Frankie screamed before catching himself and stepping back.

  “The thing is, I can do that. I can also make sure you’re out of all the circuits in the city. Actually,” I started before pausing. Unbuttoning my suit coat, I leaned in the doorway with my hands in my pockets. I knew my gun was visible by the way Frankie’s eyes dropped down and shot back up, his face paling. “I can make sure no one sees your face around. You’ll just be a whisper of a has been, eventually forgotten.” Straightening up, I took a step closer. “We clear?”

  “Yes,” he croaked out.

  “Good.” Turning, I walked out of the room.

  Luc let go of the stunned and embarrassed woman, following me and Niall down the hall.

  “Find Larson,” I ordered.

  When we reached the fight room, we split up. I made it to the other side before I found him.

  “You’re a hard man to get a meeting with,” Larson said as I approached, not looking surprised to see me.

  “Most people usually go through my receptionist not the fighters.”

  “I’ve tried. How is the beautiful Rosa doing?”

  “You better not let Luca hear you talking about his sister,” I warned.

  Lifting his plastic cup of beer to his mouth, he tried to hide his grimace the same way he tried to pretend he fit in here. “Just an innocent question.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  “And what, exactly, are you?”

  “A man with a lot of power and money.” Seeing my arched eyebrow, he added, “The legal kind. I think I can be a benefit to you and your fights.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you think my business is. I’m just a spectator, here supporting some friends.”

  “So this building isn’t owned by one of your property companies?”

  “Use of my space goes with my support.”

  I began to walk away when he called out, “And you don’t fix any of these fights?”

  Luckily no one in the area heard him, or a shitstorm would’ve erupted.

  For the majority of the fights, I stayed out of it. I’d rarely even attended.

  That didn’t mean I hadn’t ever stepped in. It wasn’t often, but sometimes, like earlier, a manager or trainer didn’t fit in well. Occasionally, it was the fighter that was the issue. There’d even been a time or two that the fighter’s funder was the problem. In that case, the fighter usually showed up injured and the funder lost a shitload of money.

  But paying a friendly visit usually sufficed.

  “What did you just say?” I growled.

  He held his hands up, palms facing me. “I’ll say it again, Amato, I’m not the bad guy. There are a lot of benefits that come with being a state senator, but entertainment and enough money to fund my hobbies aren’t among them. You let me, let’s say… invest, and I get a cut of certain things.”

  “And I’ll say it again, Larson, I think you’re mistaken about what I do. If you’d like, I can put you in contact with the people who run these fights, but they’ll likely tell you to invest your money with a good bet. You want in deeper, find a fighter.” I pointed my finger toward the back hallway. “Just make sure it’s an unsigned one. At least unsigned in this circuit. Otherwise, like the gentlemen who’s getting his ass kicked in the back alley, you’ll find yourself no longer welcomed back, no matter how m
uch money and power you have to throw around.” I gave him a distaste filled smile. “The legal kind, of course.”

  Hoping that was the end of seeing him, but knowing it probably wasn’t, I walked over to Sammy. “You see him at fights doing anything more than placing bets and watching the show, I want him gone.”

  “Got it, boss,” Sammy said, jotting something down on his clipboard.

  “Everything good?” Luc asked from behind me.

  I nodded, leaving the room before speaking again. “I want you to do some digging, and see what kind of skeletons Larson has hiding in his closet. I’m thinking it’s time we made them rattle.”

  “On it. You sticking around to watch Astaire?”

  I thought about Dahlia sitting at home, likely sleeping, and shook my head. “I’m going home.”

  ···

  The Previous Saturday

  I was fucking pissed.

  Livid.

  After messaging Luc in the car on the way home from the gala, I’d pushed Larson out of my mind so I could focus on Dahlia for the rest of the night. Once I’d dropped her at Java Brew that morning, the rage resurfaced, burning through me like fire.

  That smug motherfucker had talked to my gattina. He’d tried to use her to get my attention.

  Well, it worked. He had it.

  And he was going to regret it.

  Taking the elevator at Amaric all the way to the second to top floor, I was happy to see everyone was already there and on high alert.

  Niall, Luc, Gabe, and Dale’s eyes all swung to me.

  “What’d you find out?” I asked Luc.

  He slid a pad of paper over to me, his handwritten notes scrawled in random spots on it. I scanned the notes even as he spoke them aloud. “The senator has been a bad, bad boy. Drugs,” he held up three fingers, lowering one down as he listed, “producing, selling, and using. Same with women, including producing. The guy has more kids than brain cells. He’s a common face in backroom poker games, and the bastard is actually pretty lucky. He has at least three hefty bills a month the government pays that’re actually deposited into his own offshore accounts.” Luc tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m forgetting something.”

  I looked down at the pad to see the word ‘bored’ written in bold letters and underlined multiple times. “Bored?”

  “That’s it. I’ll let Niall fill you in on what he found out.”

  Niall brought out his phone. “I talked to Daly last night. Larson is in deep with the IRA, and I’m not talking about saving for retirement. Daly said he’s on good enough terms, paying large chunks of his loans back before borrowing again. It’s making some people happy, but more and more are starting to back away.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused.

  “‘Cause he’s totally feckin’ stone mad. Completely off his nut. He’s got more money than sense, and he’s bored. No matter how much shit he gets into, he gets restless fast and wants more. It’s made a lot of people nervous, so they aren’t doing business with him anymore.”

  I could understand that. With his increased efforts, it wouldn’t be long before he drew attention to Amaric.

  And attention was one thing I did not need.

  “I got into his personal emails,” Luc said, giving an exaggerated shudder. “I’ll be expecting an extra big bonus after what I saw. Good news is, I got the address of his townhouse he rents under an alias. Last I looked, he’s supposed to be there tomorrow through Tuesday night.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Gabe shook his head. “I don’t think he’s gonna scare away, even with a beat down. If anything, I think it’ll make him want it more. He’ll think of it like a hazing, you know?”

  Caught off guard, I looked at Gabe. As an accountant, my cousin’s husband had a skill with numbers and calculating risks. The opposite of his wife, he was quiet and patient. Even in our meetings, it was much more likely for any beat down talk to come from Dale, while Gabe focused on the most effective and least risky option.

  Based on Dale’s raised brows, he shared my surprise.

  “I agree,” I said. “Up until last night, the plan was to pay him a visit while Luc and Gabe leaked some of those private emails. Take away the senator title, we take away his power.”

  “And now?” Dale asked.

  “He dies.”

  It wasn’t a dramatic sentence. I didn’t take a pause, letting the anticipation grow. The room wasn’t filled with gasps and outrage, or hurriedly shouted protests. I stated my answer simply.

  And, just as simply, the men nodded in agreement.

  Senator Ethan Larson had already been warned. By bringing Dahlia into it, he’d put the gun to his own head. Hinting to her about what I did, however, had pulled the trigger.

  As discussion and planning got underway, the disagreements started. Gabe wanted an ‘accidental’ house fire. Dale was in the mood for some torture and pain.

  I took out my phone and texted Ben to pick up Dahlia.

  We’re going to be here a while.

  ···

  Sunday night

  Fear.

  I loved the look.

  The wide eyes. Pale face.

  The flop sweat that began to form.

  I could do without the accompanying smell.

  Especially when they pissed themselves. Or worse.

  But meeting the eyes of a man who knew he was about to die was like getting a glimpse of their soul. Those seconds, before the annoying ranting, threats, or bargaining began, were my favorite part of the process.

  And Larson was no different.

  Better, maybe.

  Because when he’d flipped his living room light on to find me sitting on his couch, there’d been fear. But there’d also been a rush. A hint of a smile. A tense anticipation.

  “I’m finally getting my meeting,” he murmured. “Here to teach me a lesson?”

  “No,” I said, getting up.

  “No threats? Your men aren’t going to come rough me up? No offer of trumped up busy work to distract me?”

  “No.” I held out a large clasp envelope.

  Even as he smiled, his disappointment was clear. He was upset our song and dance was done. The challenge was over, which meant so was the rush.

  So distracted by it all, he didn’t even notice the leather gloves I wore despite the humid night.

  He opened the envelope and shuffled through the papers, but he wasn’t looking at them. “So you’ve come to your senses and are letting me invest?”

  “No,” I repeated for a third time before pressing my gun to his temple. I took the envelope and papers back with my other hand, tossing them on the small table behind me.

  Fingerprints were all we needed.

  The fear was back, along with the rush of adrenaline. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but the smile played at his lips again. “My warning to stay out of things?” When I stayed silent, the bargaining began. “I got it. I’ll drop it. I’ll even owe you a couple favors. And I’m sorry about talking to your girlfriend. I’ll keep away, okay? We’ll just forget any of this happened.”

  Mentioning Dahlia was probably the stupidest thing he could’ve done. It pissed me off he’d breathed the same air with her, much less talked to her. Tried to manipulate her. Tried to use her to get to me.

  He’d already wasted enough of our time; I wasn’t waiting around any longer. I wanted to finish this up and get home to her.

  I gave a tiny shake of the head. “No.”

  “Can’t you fucking say anything else?” he bellowed, fear taking over.

  “No.” I pulled the trigger, unfazed by the suppressed noise, the splatter, or the body hitting the floor.

  I gave a low whistle.

  “God,” Luc said, coming in from the kitchen and handing me a pair of booties to cover my shoes. “That is one sick fuck. He was really getting off on all the back and forth.”

  “Yeah. I was worried he was going to pitch a tent.” I grimaced. “Help me out here.”

  Together,
we lifted the literal dead weight, careful to keep our covered shoes out of the blood pool.

  Grabbing his dominant left hand, because Gabe was nothing if not thorough, I positioned the gun near his head. I used his finger to pull the trigger once, aiming at the wall. I did it again, grazing the top of his head. Carefully, we dropped him back down. Any inconsistencies would likely be too covered in blood by the time anyone noticed.

  Luc took the papers and envelope, expertly burning them without burning too much. I opened the window, pushing some papers off the table. The breeze would explain why the evidence didn’t burn fully.

  Stepping back, everything looked in place for the unfortunate suicide of the blackmailed state senator.

  “Damn,” Luc said, checking his watch as we headed for the door. “Less than fifteen minutes.”

  “Would’ve been quicker if he’d have shut up.”

  “I’m going for a drink; you want to come?” I didn’t answer before he declined for me. “I know, I know. Dahlia. Tell her I said I’ll be in for muffins tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be shocked.”

  We went our separate ways, Luc heading all the way across the city to his favorite bar.

  And bartender.

  ···

  An hour later, I unlocked Dahlia’s door, heading straight for the shower.

  Niall’s location recon had paid off, and Gabe’s cleanliness got the job done in record time. My car was spotless, my clothes burned to nothing. Even stepping up the timeline by hours, things went flawlessly.

  After my shower, I climbed into bed with an overly tired and adorable Dahlia, pulling her body close to mine.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I smiled, whispering the honest truth. “Better now. You?”

  “Better now,” she answered on a yawn.

  The spring dug into my side as I shifted. I was sick of staying at her place, and not just because of the bed and the shitty water pressure. I wanted her in my house permanently.

  I’d seen the look of panic when I’d suggested it, though.

  “Pack up more stuff tomorrow,” I said, offering the compromise. “Anything you need. I want you to come stay with me for a few weeks.”