Year of the Scorpio: Part One

by Stacy Gail

  Find the source of trouble.

  I closed my eyes, my hands still clasped to my mouth, while the jumbled chaos of thoughts and emotions swirled like a tornado in my head.

  Find the source.

  There was so much inside me, tearing me apart. The pain made it almost impossible to make sense of anything, and the anger and anxiety boiling away in the pit of my stomach made me yearn to double over. But I couldn’t focus on that. Shona was right. I had to get my shit together, and figure out what was happening.

  Find...

  “Dasha.”

  The trouble had started with the unlikely meeting of Polo and Matteo Scorpeone, which had sent Polo into a hyper-protective mode...

  No.

  It went further back than that. Polo had already been on high-alert before Castlemont Country Club. The problems began even before that absurd police raid that turned up nothing but a box of Twinkies. The beginning of my streak of bad luck had started with that damn poker game run by Fabian Moretti, Angelina Scorpeone’s husband.

  Everything always came back to the Scorpeone family.

  The source.

  Except...

  “Dasha. Come on, Fearless, take it easy.” Arms came around me and held onto me like I was in danger of being sucked out of the room. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was something else.

  Something I couldn’t see.

  “I’m fine.” Opening my eyes, I saw over Polo’s shoulder that we were still alone in the room, if only for the moment. That was good. I didn’t think I could have taken anyone other than Polo at the moment. “Let me go, Polo.”

  The arms around me tightened all the more. “If you’re going to yell at me, you’re going to do it from where you are. And you’re going to do it remembering that no matter how fucked up things might seem, I’m always going to do everything possible to keep you safe.”

  “I know that, and I’m not going to yell. I just want you to let me go, okay?”

  “No.” There was a stubbornness there, but also something else underneath it that sent a whisper of tension through me. “I’ll never let you go, Dasha, you understand me? Not now. Not ever. Don’t ask me that again. You can ask anything of me, except that.”

  A painfully sweet wave of emotion unfurled in my chest to ripple all the way to my soul, and it made my throat tighten. Aha. So that was what I’d heard in his voice. Worry. It was such a rarity—in fact, this might have been the first time I’d ever heard it from him—that I hadn’t even recognized it. How amazing that he could ever have any doubt about me, after everything we’d shared.

  Then again, I was still holding part of myself back. Because of that, maybe his doubts weren’t so weird, after all.

  “Polo—”

  “I mean it, Dash. Don’t ask me to let you go. No fucking way am I going to even listen to that, you hear me?”

  “I understand, and I won’t, I promise. I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

  His body became a living statue. He went so still it alarmed me, because not only was it unnatural, it felt like total rejection of what I’d just said. Panic rose hard and fast, punching the breath out of my lungs and prickling my skin, and all at once I was certain I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. Ten seconds ago I’d at least had Polo as a lover and a friend. But with a handful of impulsive, blurted-out words I’d taken a sledgehammer to what we had.

  I was such an idiot.

  As I was scrambling to do damage control, his hands came up to cup my head, forcing my mortified gaze to his while his fingers tensed in my hair and his eyes burned like wildfire.

  “Say that again. Say it again looking at me.”

  My breath caught, and the universe seemed to pause as our two lives, comingled for so long, came down to this single moment. “I love you, Polo.”

  He closed his eyes tight, almost as if he were in pain, before he opened them only to pull my mouth to his in a fierce, claiming kiss. “Love you too, Fearless,” he said roughly when he broke the kiss. He brought his brow to press against mine, one hand leaving my hair so that he could wrap an arm around me as if he fully intended to never let go. “I’ve loved you, lived for you, since the day I met you.”

  My heart took giddy flight. “What? Really?”

  “You’re the angel that saved me when I didn’t want to be saved. From the moment you said you were going to protect me—Jesus, I’ll treasure that one moment until the day I die—I had to keep you safe. I had to, because you were the only person in the whole goddamn world who gave a shit that I even existed.”

  “Polo.” It was crazy, how my heart could break and fill all at the same time. Because he loved me, yes, but also because he’d been so alone. As long as I breathed, he would never be that alone again. “Then why did you disappear from my life for so long after Papa died? I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Never.” His tone was fierce, as if the very thought offended him. “When Borysko died, I gave six months to your brother, and after that...I was done. All the way down to my soul, I...was...done. I needed time to wash away all the blood and filth that was on me, or at least try to. It took a while to get back to a place where my life was clean enough to touch yours again, but I had to take that time, Fearless. I needed to come to you cleaner than I was. I needed to be a man who was worthy of all the beauty that is you.”

  “Don’t say that.” Pain and joy went to war inside me at his bittersweet words, with no clear winner in sight. “You’re the strongest, most worthy man I know, or will ever know. You’ve had to do horrible things to survive, but those horrible things aren’t who you are. No matter what you’ve been forced to go through, the strong, decent person you are always shines through. That part of you has never been broken, Polo, and this is why I love you. This is why you’re my hero.”

  I felt his chest convulse as he pulled in a breath before his arms tightened in another crushing embrace. “Love you, Dasha.”

  “I love you, too.” I held him just as fiercely, soaking in his warmth, and his love. “I just wish I’d known how you felt sooner. You should have told me, or at least given me a hint.”

  “If I’d done a damn thing while your father was alive, he would have made sure I was taken away from you. I’m a dangerous man, and your father knew that.”

  “I think you underestimated my father,” I whispered, backing away to look up at him. “You’d gone through the worst kind of hell this world has to offer, and it didn’t destroy your humanity. You still feel, still hope. Still love. My father and I often talked about what a miracle you are. He told me that you were probably the strongest person he’d ever known, because you were still such a good man. He admired you, sweetheart. So do I.”

  His eyes closed again, as if he needed a moment to hold onto my words. “I’ll always have blood on my hands, you understand? Blood and dirt and epic amounts of shit. I don’t ever want to taint you with that.”

  “I know who you are.” I nuzzled his nose with mine, and I waited for his eyes to open so he could see the truth inside me. “You’re the man I love. You’re the man who loves me.”

  “God yes, I am. And it is possible your dad suspected I had some feelings for you, now that I think about it,” he said after a moment, surprising me. “He never forgot that it was you who got me talking again. And he had every faith that I would do everything I could to keep you safe. When I protect you, I’m protecting my reason for living. That’s why things got so intense today. I wouldn’t be able to take it if anything happened to you, Dash. I’d destroy everything, if it meant keeping you safe.”

  “I don’t want you to destroy anything.” Very gently I rested my hand on his cheek so I knew I had his attention. “I know you have a deep mistrust when it comes to the Scorpeone family—so deep it’ll probably never go away. I don’t trust them either, but there was a reason why I sat down to talk things over with Emily Scorpeone today. That reason is Matteo’s gun.”

  Polo went still. “His gun?”


  “Or to put a finer point on it, the conspicuous absence of his gun. Did you notice he didn’t draw one?”

  I knew by the lack of surprise in his eyes what his answer was going to be before he spoke. “Yeah, I noticed. I also noticed his trained monkey definitely pulled one when it wasn’t fucking necessary, like a total moron.”

  “That’s another point I was going to bring up. Not only did Matteo not pull a gun, but his man did, despite being in a public place where no one else was displaying any hostilities. That’s either crappy training, or his goon is out of practice. Like, seriously out of practice.”

  “What do you mean, out of practice?”

  I took a breath and dived in. “Okay, I know you’re not going to believe this, but Emily swears Matteo divested himself of all illegal family business a decade ago.”

  He stared at me for a handful of seconds before he shook his head. “Dasha—”

  “She says they live a quiet, normal life now.”

  “Babe, she could say that Santa is up at the North Pole right now, knocking boots with Mrs. Claus with all the elves watching. That doesn’t make it real.”

  Ew. “I’m just saying that as far as Emily knows, there isn’t a Scorpeone mafia family in existence anymore. What’s more, she made it very clear that she wouldn’t be with Matteo if there were.”

  “And you believed her? Just like that?”

  “Emily grew up on a farm,” I kept pressing, ignoring his look of incredulity. “She’s now a dentist. Matteo owns a linen service that supplies linens to hotels. And the reason Matteo didn’t pull a gun the other night is because I believe he didn’t have one to pull. So that begs the question—what sort of true, hardcore mafia boss leaves his house without arming himself to the teeth?”

  He grimaced. “Look, I know you want to believe these are good people, Dash, but they’re not. They never will be. They’re the kind of people who will blindside you when you least expect it and walk away laughing. If you’re lucky, you’ll survive long enough to realize the terrible mistake you made in trusting them, but more than likely you’ll just wind up dead in a ditch.”

  “Of course you would think that, and you have every right to.” My heart ached for him, and I rolled up on my tiptoes to feather a gentle kiss over his lips. It was a useless gesture, trying to kiss away his pain, but it was the best I could do. “They betrayed you, and that scar will never go away. But don’t let it blind you, Polo, please. Everything felt off about that scene the other night. You know it did.”

  “If this is about Matteo not pulling a gun—”

  “It’s more than that. Have you asked yourself what a dangerous mafia boss was doing at a conservative place like Castlemont? If Matteo was such a bad guy, they would have barred the doors against him, but they didn’t. Far from it. He was there because Emily is on the board of directors there, and you can bet that snobby country club’s vetting process is intense. They wouldn’t have accepted her, or them, if he was a freaking crime boss.”

  “You know better than anyone that the head of an organized crime syndicate never lives out in the open. Matteo Scorpeone’s obviously very good at living a double life. Either that, or his woman is just as much of a slick liar as he is.”

  That could be, I supposed, trying to play Devil’s advocate. But still... “Am I good at poker, Polo?”

  He blinked. “Damn, woman. Are you trying to give me whiplash with that sudden change of subject?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Yeah.” He half-laughed, looking torn between bewilderment and exasperation. “You’re good at poker in the same way the sun is good at being hot. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you know why I’m good at it?”

  “Because you’ve got a loose wire in your head that makes you crazy enough to risk everything if there’s even the slightest chance you’ll win?”

  My man. How well he knew me. “Besides that.”

  “Then, no.”

  “I’m good at poker because my father taught me how to read people. Emily wasn’t lying, and neither was Matteo,” I added when he sighed and looked to the ceiling as if begging the heavens for help. “I’m not saying we should trust them, okay? I’m not. But I don’t think that family is the huge threat they were when they kidnapped me and my brother all those years ago.”

  “What about the raid on Chicago’s Future? It takes a big-ass amount of pull to make shit like that happen. And then there was that card game that got raided.”

  “That card game getting busted up had nothing to do with the Scorpeones.”

  “Wrong. I’ve been told that raid was a culmination of an internal problem within the Scorpeone family. Right now their gambling operation’s run by Fabian Moretti, Angelina’s husband, but it’s looking like Matteo wants it back under his control. That’s why it’s being reported that Matteo called the raid in himself. The way I see it, he was trying to kill two birds with one stone—he makes his brother-in-law look incompetent so Matteo would have the excuse of getting that operation back under his control, and he lands a Vitaliev in hot water, which makes him look like a hero to his men.”

  “That... makes sense. More sense than a Scorpeone calling in a raid on his own illegal poker game just to get me in trouble, anyway,” I muttered, remembering the ridiculous fight I’d had with my brother. Then I frowned. “Wait. Who did you hear this from? Not even my brother knew there was a power struggle within the Scorpeone family, and he usually knows everything.”

  “It was Knives who told me about it.”

  I blinked. “What? When?”

  “He called me after Konstantin reported our run-in with Matteo at Castlemont. Speaking of Kon,” he added, looking around the room in irritation, “where the hell is that slacker? You should never be uncovered this long.”

  In a heartbeat my confusion over my brother’s altered view on that now-infamous card game vanished, and the knots in my stomach doubled in on themselves. “I don’t know where he is,” I whispered, because the poisonous dread inside my chest left no room for air. “I don’t know what to do, Polo. He didn’t pick me up this morning. He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. I’ve even called Knives to help me find out where Konstantin is, but...” I shook my head, hating that the knots had moved up into my throat, and there was wetness prickling my eyes. There was no need to cry, damn it. Konstantin was fine, just fine. And boy, was I going to put him through the world’s biggest guilt trip for making me worry like this. That was something to look forward to when I got him back where he belonged.

  But first, I had to get him back.

  Polo nodded and pressed his mouth to my brow. “Okay, beautiful. I’m going to leave Rudy Panuzzi here with you so I know you’re covered. Trust me, you’re as safe with Rudy as if you were with your own brother.”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  He gave me that affable smile I hated, because he used it whenever there was nothing to smile about. “I’m going to find Konstantin for you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Polo

  The sharp, unmistakable scent of death greeted Polo as he walked into the hotel suite. Automatically he tucked his hands in his pockets—he hadn’t brought gloves, so no way in hell was he going to touch anything—and nodded at the man who pointed him in the direction of the bedroom. He moved around a table topped with a tray holding two unused champagne flutes, a bud vase with a red rose still in it, a plate of untouched chocolate-covered strawberries and a bucket half-filled with water and an unopened bottle of champagne. Lying face up was a simple white card.

  Nothing but the best for you.

  Pain twisted deep in Polo’s chest. Stupid, sappy Konstantin. He’d lost count of how many times Kon had advised him to use that line on Dash, swearing it had the power to jettison her panties right off her body and into the next county. He’d never used it, though God knew every word was true. He’d wanted to get Dash to be with him not through the power of so
me overused line, but because she wanted to be with him.

  Nothing but the best for you.

  Dash did deserve the best. And damn it, so did Konstantin.

  Polo forced himself to move deeper into the suite, his pulse thudding in his temples. Another man stood just inside an open bedroom door just off the elegant living room. The guy was yet another unfamiliar face to Polo, pure muscle from the neck down and not meeting his eyes other than to acknowledge his presence. His attention was riveted to the only other living occupant in the room.

  “Knives.” Polo nodded to Dash’s brother standing by the curtained window, coming to a halt at the empty space between the room’s unmade bed and the vanity area. Together they stared at the rolled-up bedspread at the foot of the bed, lying on the floor between them. Polo didn’t have to be Sherlock to figure out that was where the smell was coming from. “This is...” To his shock, his throat clenched and he had to take a good two seconds to make it work again. “Is it Konstantin?”

  “No.” Knives nudged a toe at the cover to roll it back, revealing the blue-gray face of a pimply-faced kid with a shock of wiry red hair and a bloody hole between his semi-open eyes. “Hotel employee, I think. I can just see the edge of a nametag on his shirt, and I’ve already had someone do a discreet check of personnel downstairs. A kid from hospitality that fits this boy’s description didn’t show up for work today. The timing’s right—he looks to be less than twenty-four hours or so.”