Beautifully Broken (The Denver Series Book 2)

by Eve L Mitchell

  An only child, mom was the sole survivor of an old family name. A second cousin extended his protection to her when she was a wide-eyed innocent eighteen-year-old in New York for school. She never got involved with the family business. The only thing she had of interest to them at the time was her capability to produce a kid and her old family connections, which she didn’t want to use. Her cousin took pity on her. She lived with him and his family until she finished school. By her third year, her heart had been caught by one Alexander Barkley. She didn’t finish school due to having me midway through her final year.

  They lived in a small apartment, and she raised me, while dad worked every hour his employers at the law firm gave him. They were barely scraping by when mom’s cousin called at his office one day, needing a lawyer. A family lawyer. My dad never looked back, his company realised his connections, and he was soon a partner. Not that dad wasn’t a highly skilled lawyer. He was. He earned the reputation he had not only from his extended family, but he was damn good in the courtroom.

  It was my mom’s desire to keep me away from them all. However, I had never been an obedient child. I killed my first man when I was thirteen. He had been beating my friend, Lyle, and I didn’t think he was going to stop. I hit him over the head with a rock until he didn’t get up anymore. The family covered it up. When I was fifteen, I shot three intruders in the back after coming home and discovering that they’d tied my mom up and were going to rape her. A scare tactic to dissuade my dad from his case. I killed them, and dad won his case. Mom was never the same after it; she lost some of her laughter, some of her light. It’s hard to accept your son is a killer and your husband defends those killers. She started calling me angel not long after that.

  I was the furthest thing from an angel you could find. My hands didn’t have blood on them, they were soaked, I was soaked. I knew who I was. I accepted it. My father knew it, and I think he also struggled, but he wasn’t sitting on the right side of righteous either. He had no choice but to accept it. By sixteen, I was working for my mom’s cousin. Dad insisted I go to school, and I sailed by four years of college, gaining a degree in philosophy, a degree choice just to piss him off.

  At a business meeting of my dad’s, I had met Malcolm Litton. Malcolm held my attention. He looked at me the same way as my father did—he just didn’t have the added disappointment. Malcolm accepted me for who I was, completely. He accepted the fact that I could kill someone and walk away. I didn’t need a motive, I didn’t need a reason, I didn’t need to justify the kill. Pay me money, tell me who you wanted dead, and I killed them. It really was that simple.

  Society got caught up in the morality of it, the right and the wrong, but they missed the simplicity of it. Money made the world go around. Not faith, not charity, not your political beliefs. Those who had it got more, while those who had less…well, they had little to lose. To get more, you had to ask yourself what you were willing to sacrifice. Everything required a sacrifice. If you didn’t want to pay the price, you couldn’t reap the rewards.

  My mom’s family also knew my potential, and dad was nervous that I worked too close to home. He could defend criminals, but he didn’t like the fact his son was one. On a whim, after a conversation with Malcolm, I moved to Denver and took work with one of the biker gangs. They were fun. They had feuds over the stupidest shit, but they liked money, and they made a shit ton of it. They also tended to have shit follow-through on deals, and their feuds made me a rich man very quickly.

  Biker business brought attention to the other syndicates who they ran errands for. I never bragged about my family connections, I never hinted at who my cousin was. In a very short time and a lot of dead bodies later, I had an established client base. My connections in Denver were my own, my reputation mine to build or to destroy.

  My achievements weren’t something my parents could boast about at a dinner party, but I knew they weren’t completely ashamed of me. Mom lamented I must have it in my DNA from her family, which is why I used her family name.

  In reality, as I got older, I had fewer people to kill, and I was more the threat someone used to get whoever they needed in line. Maybe I was bored? The thought startled me as I returned to my seat across from my father. Is that why I had taken Devon instead of killing her? Was I looking for a change? No, I was still quick to use my gun. I hadn’t had some epiphany and woken up one day believing I didn’t want to hurt people anymore.

  “You’ll be okay tonight, doing this?” my dad asked me softly, his voice cutting into my reflections of my past.

  “Yeah, no need to worry about me.”

  “You’re my only son, of course I worry about you.”

  “Thanks,” I answered as I watched him. “It makes you uncomfortable, dad. Don’t ask details,” I told him with a rueful smile. “Plausible deniability, remember?”

  He actually smiled, and I grinned in return. “I don’t like that they asked for you,” he admitted.

  “I’m very good at my job.” I shrugged and he grunted.

  “Malcolm called me,” he said.

  Did he indeed? “And?”

  My dad considered me carefully. “Wants me to watch you, objectively.”

  “Odd request for a man to ask a father,” I told him quietly.

  Dad’s eyebrows rose quickly in agreement as he frowned. “He’s becoming bolder.”

  “I can handle Malcolm Litton,” I said confidently.

  “I thought he was your mentor?” Dad’s tone was heavy with contempt. They didn’t exactly gel.

  “He’s a client,” I answered easily. “You know all about having that needy client, don’t you, dad?”

  “He’s smart. He has the best lawyers, better than me.” Dad paused, pissed he had to admit that. “Don’t be too overconfident with him, son. He will put a bullet in your head if it gives him an advantage.”

  “I know,” I assured my father. I stood. “You taught me well, dad, I know what I’m doing.”

  He stood too. “I can’t come with you, but you owe them nothing, Raphael. Walk away if you need to.”

  My father was genuinely worried about me. It took me by surprise. I nodded to let him know I understood, and then the two of us walked to the kitchen where my mom was cooking. For two hours, I put his concerns about my safety, my growing irritation with Malcolm, and my gnawing craving to know if Devon was okay, to the side. Instead, I tried to enjoy dinner with my family.

  I stood in the large dining room and watched the occupants of the room. Eight heads of family, along with numerous sons, nephews, and hit men, three of the head bikers from Devil’s Highwaymen and one sole businessman with no family connections but the ability to broker a deal between the devil and the deep blue sea. In this room, even I was related to someone. My mom’s second cousin’s son, which made him my, what, fourth cousin? Ray Lastra had no love for me, nor I him.

  My gaze kept returning to Malcolm. What was his game plan with reaching out to my dad? This couldn’t be about Devon; she shouldn’t even be on his radar. Why was he concerning himself with her?

  “You okay?” Louis asked me.

  “Always. How did you get called into this?” I asked him quietly. This was a strange meeting, and I didn’t like it. They had called a meeting to discuss territory. It sounded thin, and looking around, I wasn’t clear as to why I was here. It made no difference to me who dealt where. This wasn’t my usual thing. Malcolm had been asked to come, and again, this made no sense to me.

  “Emilio,” he said with a casual shrug.

  “The West Coast isn’t here. Doesn’t he know East and West don’t play nice with each other?” I asked him as I watched everyone. “I think you’re too west, never mind San Diego.”

  Louis nodded slightly in agreement and took a drink of his iced tea. “I am, but I have you as a connection, remember?”

  I looked around the room, and I suddenly realised they all had me as a connection. I assessed everyone in it quickly and decided to trust the only one I actually
liked. “Louis,” I said as I turned my head slightly so no one could lip-read. “You need to go to the bathroom. It’s down the hall, turn left, first door on your right.” He went to speak, and I caught his arm as I nodded, pretending to be casual in the conversation. “You need to trust me, right now.”

  “A setup?” Louis asked as he took a drink, and I noticed the liquid didn’t pass his lips.

  “I think it could be,” I answered. “You need to leave the muscle, don’t raise suspicion.”

  He remained outwardly unaffected and smiled as he patted my hand on his arm. “And you?”

  “I’m right behind you. I’ll get you on the way out.”

  Louis waited as I moved through the room to Malcolm, and I noticed he left once I was far enough away. Standing beside Malcolm, I watched the others in the room as they laughed and joked while some had their hands too close to their hidden firearms. Weapons weren’t allowed in the meetings, which is why I only had two guns, a knife and a garrote wire in my pocket.

  “One question,” I asked Malcolm quietly. “Is it you?”

  He glanced at me sharply, his eyes confused. “Is what me?”

  “Someone’s about to be hit, there’s a possibility it’s me.” I glanced at the room again as I straightened my suit jacket. “You have three seconds before I decide.”

  “It isn’t me.” Malcolm was such a good actor. He stood there casually, and even I believed him. “For fuck’s sake, Raphe, you’re close to Aiden.”

  That gave me pause. Malcolm was a lot of things, but he would burn the world to the ground for his son. A son who harboured a strong dislike for him, but he would do it nonetheless. Fuck. He trusted me with Aiden’s life. It wasn’t Malcolm.

  “We’re leaving,” I told him, and I noticed as he exhaled that he had been holding his breath. “This is a setup and as yet, I don’t know who for.”

  “How do we leave?”

  “Stay natural, don’t engage, and if I say run, don’t look back.”

  “Raphe—”

  “Go. Louis’s in the bathroom. Make it look like you want a quiet word—you’re both a presence in Denver, no one will suspect.”

  I made my way over to one of the bikers, an older guy. I’d worked for him when I first went to Denver, but his club was nationwide. “Joe,” I greeted.

  “Something’s not right,” Joe told me gruffly as he drank a beer, and I knew instantly that it wasn’t him. He was a short heavyset guy with a beer belly that hung low and huge. His arms were covered in tattoos, and he double denimed with pride. His long grey beard wouldn’t look out of place on a member of ZZ Top.

  “Time to go,” I agreed and grinned at him.

  “Havoc?”

  “Only Highwaymen know how to bring it,” I quipped his club’s motto to him as I stood back. Biker gangs got a hard time from some, reputations that were sometimes unfairly gained, but what was never wrong about bikers was their ability to create hell at the drop of a hat.

  “And you?” he looked at me with an appraising eye.

  “I’m right beside you.”

  Joe grunted and then, with absolutely no qualms or explanation, punched out his Sergeant at Arms. The brawl escalated quickly and soon there were a few of the younger family members jumping in to break it up, which ended up with bikers against mobsters. Through it all, I watched the players move on the board, noting who sided with who and more importantly, who didn’t. When security suddenly flooded the room, my gaze was locked with my cousin’s, however many times removed he was. He nodded once, and I hesitated before returning the acknowledgement. I could leave. Grabbing Joe, I hauled him off a young guy in his twenties and whispered it was time to go.

  On the way out, I collected my two friends, and I didn’t hesitate when I heard the gunshots go off behind me. I would find out later who the hit was on. For now, I was relieved it wasn’t me or any of the three men I had trusted tonight.

  As I herded them towards the cars, Joe broke off to head to his bike, and soon his fellow Highwaymen were with him. He looked at me once, and I acknowledged the unspoken request to find out why we were here tonight.

  Frustrated, I got into the car, my gaze shifting between Louis and Malcolm. “It would be best for you both to move your accommodations, head out at first light.” I started the engine and drove down the driveway, my eyes on the rearview mirror, checking to see who was fleeing my cousin’s home.

  “Was it us or you or unconnected?” Malcolm demanded angrily.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “I will stay in the hotel I am booked into. I will not cower in fear,” Louis told me, his voice steady.

  I nodded. I didn’t think he would, but Malcolm possibly would. He had more brains than pride.

  “How did you know?” Louis asked as I drove back to Manhattan.

  “Didn’t feel right,” I answered tersely.

  Louis was silent as I drove, and I kept my attention on him and Malcolm, neither speaking but sitting contemplating the course of the night. Dropping them both off at their respective hotels, I watched as Louis was met by four of his men and later Malcolm was met by Les and Wayne. Malcolm almost spoke, but with a curt “talk later,” he exited.

  I headed back to the brownstone, and then on a whim, I turned back, heading out of the city, back to my cousin’s. Calmly I walked through the house. I checked two of the body bags amid the chaos, my suspicions confirmed. I found Ray in his study, drinking a scotch with his right-hand man, Nick, staring out the window.

  Ray was not surprised to see me. “You took them out before helping family?”

  “They pay me more than you do.” I sat down in one of the soft chairs, choosing to ignore the hard-backed ones in front of his desk.

  He snorted as he took a drink. “You suspect?”

  “I have a fair idea.”

  His fingers steepled together as he thought. “It’s a bold move.”

  “It’s only bold if it works,” I answered. “Otherwise it’s stupid and ultimately costly.”

  Ray smiled as he took a drink. “They did this on my turf, in my home.” He looked at me, his fury evident.

  “You want to retaliate, or do you want it handled quietly?” I saw him glance at Nick. “Or both?”

  “We’ll retaliate. Loudly,” Nick answered. “You can do what you do.”

  Thinking about it, I realised it was inevitable. “Fine.”

  “Do you need paid?” Ray asked me, his voice heavy with scorn. He had never liked the fact that my services could be bought. He struggled to accept that because my gun was for hire, that did not mean my loyalty was. The problem with that though was that the only loyalty I had was to me.

  “You’re family,” I deadpanned. “Let’s call it a favour.”

  Ray gave a reluctant laugh, finally easing the tension in the room. “It’s been a while,” he acknowledged.

  “It has.”

  Nick grinned at me suddenly. “It’s been too long since you were you.” He rubbed his hands together. “It will be a good reminder to these fuckers who they’re messing with.”

  Choosing to say nothing, I waited for Nick to tell me his plan. When I was clear on who they were targeting, I stood.

  “You’ll know when it’s over,” I told them as I adjusted my suit jacket.

  “How long?” Ray asked me.

  “Two nights unless he runs.” I shrugged. “Carlisle won’t run.”

  “And then back to Denver?” Ray pressed.

  “Yes.”

  “A flying visit then,” Nick scoffed in contempt. I ignored his unspoken judgment.

  “The best kind.”

  “Do you want the word put out?” Ray asked me speculatively.

  I smiled as I thought about it, anticipation rising within me. “Why not, let’s raise the stakes.” Nick laughed gleefully, and Ray shook his head with a begrudging smile.

  “Alright then.” Ray glanced at Nick. “Spread the word. The Wraith is hunting.”

  I left them plan
ning in the study and headed back to the car. I’d start tonight. If I acted fast, I’d have the coup to take over the Lastra family wiped out before morning.

  As I drove back to the city, I had a fleeting thought about Devon and my absence from her for a few days, but she would be fine. There was food in the fridge and freezer, and most importantly, she was exactly where I’d left her.

  I still didn’t know why I didn’t run.

  After the blond god spoke to Aiden quietly, he came back and handed me an apron, a hair net and a hat, which I took from him with numb fingers. I kept looking at Aiden, but he was completely ignorant of what he had done as he spoke easily to the chef. My gaze kept turning to the rear fire exit, and my mind couldn’t process how many times I had been on the other side of that door, wishing I was inside the kitchen.

  Now I was inside the kitchen, wondering why I wasn’t running out. Levi—he insisted that I call him Levi, and to be fair I could hardly address him as “blond god”—ran through the dishwasher, the stacks and the procedures. It was similar to the shelter, and I took my rubber gloves when the other dishwasher handed me them. The dishwasher was Bony Boy, who I recognised from his frequent smoke breaks in the alley.

  When they handed me an employment form, I looked at Aiden in panic. He swiftly took it off me and again pulled Levi to the side. The form was handed back to me with the quiet instruction to fill in my name and date of birth only. Aiden filled in the address, and when I questioned the home address he put down, he reminded me with a grin that it was an experiment. It wasn’t the place to argue with him or find out what he meant. Eventually, he left me there with the promise that he would be back later.

  Levi was looking at me, and I was staring up at him like a dumbass. “Do you look familiar?” he asked.

  Shit. “I don’t know, do I?”

  He squinted as he considered me. “How do you know Aiden?”