Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)

by Bethany-Kris

  Cara ignored her inner voice, her attention snagged entirely by the man across the floor. His gaze caught hers, and time stopped as he smiled. Even surrounded by a group full of men, all chatting with drinks in front of them, Gian looked at her and smiled.

  A reddish discoloration marred his right cheek, up to his temple, but other than that, Cara couldn’t see any visible issues that should be a cause for concern. Then again, she wasn’t close enough to tell.

  “Wait here,” Constantino demanded.

  She glared at her cousin’s back as he crossed the club floor to the sectioned-off table where Gian was currently seated with the other men. Constantino bent down, said something, and then nodded quickly. That was it, and her cousin took the seat that Gian vacated not a blink in time later.

  The club was hot as hell, so Cara pulled off her coat as Gian crossed the space between them, and hung it over her arm. She tried to shake off the lingering anxiety, and seem like everything was fine, but she couldn’t quite do it as he came to a stop in front of her.

  “You’re not who I expected to see showing up here tonight,” Gian said.

  Cara shifted from one foot to the other. “You didn’t answer me back.”

  “Something happened to my phone.”

  “Something like a bomb?”

  Gian shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, we can do details, but it won’t help all that much.”

  Cara sighed, trying hard not to meet his gaze. If she did, he would surely see all the crazy worry swimming in her mind, and he would know that she actually cared. Cara didn’t know if she wanted to go down that road with Gian, quite yet.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?” she asked quietly.

  Gian lifted his arms, and turned slowly as if to let her look him over. “Mild concussion, which means no sleep tonight. I can’t hear all that great out of my right ear, but there’s no lasting damage. I’ve got a bruised kidney, but I only need one, anyway.”

  Cara shook her head in disbelief. “Lucky.”

  “Some people do say the Guzzi blood is made of nothing but gold, luck, and dirt.”

  “Who are these people?”

  He only grinned.

  Cara finally met his gaze then, holding firm. “So, a club is where you decided to come after you get released from the hospital then? Not … home, or—”

  “To you.”

  His voice turned lower, cool and curious at the same time.

  “You don’t have to come to me. That’s not what I meant or what I said.”

  “But would you have liked me to?” Gian asked.

  Cara reached up to ghost her fingertips along the discoloration on his cheek and temple. “That looks like it hurts.”

  “Not a lot. Answer my question.”

  “Why a club?” she asked instead.

  “Dio, you are difficult when you want to be. Do you know that?”

  Cara smiled. “I’ve been told. Why a club?”

  Gian gestured over his shoulder. “Someone thought I needed a drink, I couldn’t refuse, given a lot of the shit that’s happened over the past few weeks with the family. I’ve got enough problems, without making a certain group feel like I’m shunning them.”

  “I don’t understand a word you said.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I like that you’re not all that interested in those semantics of my life, anyway.”

  Cara let out a shaky exhale, and dropped his gaze. “This—tonight—freaked me out a little bit.”

  “I can tell. You didn’t have to come running, though. I was fine, as far as that goes.”

  “I was gone before I even knew what was happening, so …”

  Gian chuckled.

  That was all Cara got—one of his husky laughs—before he grabbed her waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her fast. The bruising force of his mouth crashing against hers took her breath away, and all that remaining fear and worry stopped, just like that. His hands slid up her sides and cupped under her jaw while his tongue darted into her mouth and gave her a taste of the bourbon he’d been drinking.

  Cara felt dazed-like, when Gian finally pulled away.

  Breathless.

  Stupid.

  Spun.

  “I knew this would look good,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  His thumbs slid down over her throat, hooking under the delicate lace of the black choker he had sent to her the day before. “This here, it looks perfect, mon ange.”

  “It does have a certain appeal,” she admitted.

  “There was a white one—”

  “Gian.”

  “But this one matches those stockings you’re wearing, anyway,” he said, never missing a beat.

  Cara rolled her eyes. “So, hey, if you’re good here with … your friends, then I’ll head out. I don’t need to be here, and you’ve got my number.”

  “I am good,” he said, “and so are they, so how about—”

  “Lea?”

  Cara froze in Gian’s warm hands like ice water had been poured down her spine. Gian, too, stiffened, his hands tightening to her neck at the quiet call of a name Cara rarely heard spoken anymore. She didn’t think it was random, not with the way the man posed the question over Gian’s shoulder, or the way Gian’s gaze turned cold and hard in an instant.

  A beat of time passed, and then another.

  Cara’s breath felt painful in those moments.

  Gian moved to her side, his arm snaking around her waist. Cara faced the well-dressed man, who looked to be around the same age as Gian. Clean-cut, fresh-faced, and good-looking. He certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at, and whoever he was, he looked like he recognized her.

  “Frankie,” Gian said, his smile belying the coolness in his voice. “I don’t think you’ve met Cara Rossi, have you?”

  The man—Frankie—suddenly appeared as though he had taken a punch to the gut.

  “My bad,” Frankie said, offering Cara a fleeting smile. “Constantino wanted to know if you were going to head out, Gian.”

  “Sì, I think I am.”

  Frankie nodded. “All right, have a good—”

  “Why did you call me Lea?” Cara asked.

  “You’re mistaken,” Frankie murmured. Then, he gave another nod to Gian. “Later, boss.”

  He was gone before Cara could question him again, but Gian wasn’t.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Gian said, turning them both and directing them toward the front of the club. “My place is closer, if that’s okay.”

  “Whatever,” Cara replied. “Why did he call me Lea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Gian was lying.

  Cara could hear it in his voice.

  “Gian.”

  “Some people in my circles knew Lea from being around, so maybe—”

  “No, he sounded like he was in pain when he said it,” Cara argued. “That’s not a passing friend, Gian.”

  “Just drop it, bella. It’s not important.”

  She didn’t think so.

  “Why are you lying?”

  “I’m not,” Gian said.

  “I think you—”

  Cara suddenly found herself yanked down a hallway behind Gian, and pulled into what looked to be a storage room of some sort. She didn’t even have time to ask him what in the hell he was doing, before his lips were on hers again, taking away her words, thoughts, and breath.

  “I didn’t tell you how much I liked this dress, did I?” Gian asked.

  Cara’s head fell back against the closed door. “No.”

  “I do, I like it a lot.”

  “Who was that guy, Gian?”

  “Nobody important.”

  “Gian.”

  He either wasn’t listening, or he wasn’t hearing Cara. As his hands slid up under the short skirt of her dress, and he lowered to his knees, Cara couldn’t decide if she really gave a shit in that moment.

  “Yes, I really like it. And the length is perfect, because it takes nothing to get it up,”
Gian muttered.

  Hot.

  Sinful.

  Teasing.

  That damn mouth of his was all of those things. And it was the only thing Cara focused on, as Gian dragged her panties down her thighs and his mouth was on her pussy. He had a wicked tongue with more talent than most men had in their entire bodies. He sucked on her clit, his tongue drove fast into the little nub right after, and she couldn’t see straight.

  “Holy shit,” Cara gasped.

  Distractions, she thought.

  That’s what he was doing.

  Distracting her.

  Fuck.

  It was a good distraction.

  Sleepy-eyed, Cara leaned in the doorway of the small gym, and tried to get some of the sleep out of her head. Gian didn’t seem to notice her presence as his speed on the treadmill picked up from a jog to a thirty-second sprint before it shut off. He didn’t even give himself time to breathe before he moved off the machine, and headed to the bar for a set of a dozen chin-ups.

  Cara had no idea where this man got his energy.

  But shit, it was a beautiful thing to watch.

  The power, his body’s lines, and the way he focused in on his task … it was all rather beautiful.

  Gian dropped to the floor once his chin-ups were finished, and reached for a waiting water bottle and hand towel. Cara let him relax before she cleared her throat to make her presence known to him.

  He flashed her one of his signature grins as he came close enough to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Morning.”

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Most of the night,” he answered.

  “The concussion, I forgot.”

  “You didn’t need to be staying up with me, anyway. Beauty sleep.”

  Cara scoffed. “You do see me, right? Because nothing about this screams beauty at the moment.”

  Her hair was wild. Her eyes were sleepy. She had shoved on his forgotten dress shirt instead of her clothes because it was easier. She needed coffee, food, and a shower, and then she might be half presentable to the public.

  Gian’s hand tangled into her messy hair as he brought her closer for a kiss to her cheek. “Shut up and take the compliment, Cara.”

  Well, then …

  “Fine, but I’m all fucked-out, so don’t think you’re getting laid for that one this morning.”

  His laughter came out dark and heady, waking Cara up even more. “Fucked-out, that’s a new one.”

  “I need more time being awake to properly converse like a real human.”

  “Well, let’s get some food in you and then see how you feel,” Gian said.

  Cara followed behind him as he headed toward his penthouse’s kitchen. “Now is probably the best time to ask this, then, huh?”

  “Ask what, Cara?”

  “Who that guy—Frankie—was last night, and why he called me Lea.”

  Gian’s steps came to a full stop.

  Cara damn near ran into his back.

  Slowly, he turned to face her, his amusement from earlier gone entirely. “You’re not going to drop that, are you?”

  “As much as I like you on your knees, eating my pussy like it’s the last thing you’re ever going to taste, no, that’s not going to work today. If that’s what you meant to say.”

  Gian’s lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “Cara—”

  “I dealt with the distraction last night. Try the truth today, please.”

  “I don’t know a lot about it.”

  “Tell me what you do know, Gian.”

  He crossed his arms, and Cara matched his posture in the hallway. She wasn’t moving a damn inch until he started talking. Simple as that.

  “Sometimes, Frankie runs in the same circles as me, but we’re not friends, not like Constantino and I are. But like I said, sometimes we run into one another. As far as I know, from passing mentions or seeing them out, Frankie went out with Lea for a while a year back or so. Those were the few times I actually saw her or came in contact with her.”

  “Like a few dates, or …?”

  “I think it was more than that,” Gian admitted, “but I can’t say for sure, and there’s certain things men don’t ask each other in this business, when women are brought around.”

  Cara’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Lea didn’t have a boyfriend before she died, and even before that, there was no one she talked about.”

  Sure, her sister went out and did her own thing. Lea had a social life that didn’t include Cara a lot of the time, because she wasn’t into that sort of thing. But a man? A boyfriend, for months? Cara didn’t think so.

  “As far as I know, it ended a couple of months before Lea died,” Gian said with a shrug. “I only know that because … well, because I do.”

  “Because why?”

  Gian scowled. “Because Frankie got married to the broad that ended up pregnant with his kid; he married her, and it was the right thing to do. That’s what a man is expected to do when he knocks a woman up—marry her as soon as possible. I don’t know the personal details because that shit is private. I know what was presented to me like it was to everyone else.”

  Cara suddenly felt like someone had sucked all the air out of her chest. “What?”

  “Sometimes, it’s better to drop things, Cara.”

  “Did Lea know he was running around with someone else?”

  Gian barely blinked. “Maybe it didn’t make a difference to her at the time.”

  It did to Cara.

  It was all the same to her.

  She thought her twin would have felt the same.

  “I think I want to go home,” Cara muttered.

  Gian didn’t even try to convince her to stay.

  Cara needed to think.

  She couldn’t do that with Gian around.

  “Johnnie was pulled out of the lake this morning,” Constantino said. “All limbs attached, though, so clearly they wanted us to know.”

  Gian rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. “Fuck.”

  “Edmond is making a point.”

  “Or the older generation did it,” Gian pointed out.

  “It’s still for the boss, Gian.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m saying—”

  “Johnnie had a verbal disagreement with one of Edmond’s favorites the night after your car went boom last week, and all of the sudden, he shows up dead.” Constantino scoffed, quickly adding, “Not to mention, he’s the second body this week, but he could have been the third in two weeks, had the bomb on your car been successful.”

  Constantino was making all kinds of sense, even though Gian wished it didn’t have to be this way. The sudden surge of violence on the streets between the younger and older generation of made men in the Guzzi Cosa Nostra was disconcerting, but not entirely a surprise.

  The younger men had taken the bomb on Gian’s vehicle as a personal affront, as though it was the boss’s one way of removing the last person the men thought might give them a voice. Any verbal or physical action that disagreed with the boss was suddenly met with severe punishment—to make a point, to make the men sit down, and shut the hell up.

  “I’ve been shut out for a week,” Gian admitted.

  “Completely?”

  “No calls from Edmond or his new consigliere. No calls from the older Capos, and any attempts I’ve made to see them or check in, have been fucked over in some way. He’s shutting me out.”

  Constantino swore under his breath. “This isn’t good.”

  “No.”

  “What are you planning on doing now, Gian? Reconciliation was fine before someone tried to knock you off, but what now?”

  Gian didn’t have a simple or easy answer for that. “I need to find out who tried to kill me first, and then I’ll figure out the rest.”

  Somehow, he held back from adding.

  “Look to Edmond, or one of his minions.”

  “I’m aware, assho
le,” Gian said, “but I want a name behind the bomb and a reason first.”

  Gian still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on within his own famiglia. Violence, yes. Discontent, sure. Lines had been drawn in the sand, and Gian had attempted not to put himself on either side of it, but managed to get put on one anyway.

  “These issues—the problems between the generations—have been ongoing for a decade,” Gian said. “Why now, has it suddenly gotten so out of hand?”

  “You should already know the answer to that, but the fact that you admit these problems have been ongoing says you have chosen to be blind to the complaints for a long time, Gian.”

  He let that insult brush off his shoulders.

  Sort of.

  “It was manageable when Corrado was alive,” Gian replied. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “It was manageable because one side knew that when Corrado was dead, they would finally have what they wanted—a younger boss they respected and had common ground with in la famiglia. You, Gian. And they didn’t get you. They got another ancient fool in Edmond, who doesn’t understand that it’s not the forties and fifties anymore, and the rules need to change with the world we live in.”

  “You’re starting to piss me off again; Corrado wasn’t—”

  “He chose to be blind or placate, too. Don’t make that mistake, man.”

  “He’s shutting me out,” Gian reminded his friend. “That means he’s not going to let me get close enough to put this to an end.”

  “And the bomb,” Constantino said. “Don’t forget the bomb.”

  How could he?

  “I have too many things to deal with, all at once. Corrado, Edmond, the men, the fucking bomb. All of it.”

  “What if it’s all the same man behind those things, though?”

  “That’s too simple,” Gian said. “It’s too easy. This life isn’t easy. Nothing about it ever is.”

  Constantino didn’t bother to argue that point.

  “One thing at a time,” Gian added, “and whether you want to admit it or not, there are a lot of men who would benefit from putting me in the boss’s seat.”

  “Your point?”

  “It’s easy to point the finger at Edmond; easier, even, to make me look at him. No one said these men were fucking dumb, Constantino. I’m not going to treat them like they are, it could have been anyone.”