I mean, yeah, I look different. It’s been ten years, so I’ve put on about fifty pounds of muscle and my dark hair is longer. But the biggest change is that I’m no longer that clean-cut pretty boy she once knew. This older version of me gets dirty…gritty…and bloody.
I was able to escape all of that back in Sicily but here? Now?
It’s my way of life.
No wonder she can’t see through all of the darkness.
Her pale pink lips are slightly parted, enough that if I grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her close, my tongue could slip right through them, just like I’d always fantasized about doing.
She might punch me if I did that right now.
She may try to scream.
But she’d definitely enjoy it and everything that would follow.
I’m a lot of things, and confident about my sexual prowess is one of them.
For a second, I get lost in my daydream, watching her lips form words, but not hearing a single one.
Then the arms start swinging around, the forehead becomes pinched, and the eyes take on a kind of murderous glow.
I decide it’s time to perk up my ears.
“Are you just going to stand there, staring at me?”
She still doesn’t recognize me…
But I sure as hell recognize her. Damn, the years have been very fucking generous.
And while I want to look a little longer, now is the time for me to speak. So I have fun with it, keeping my cover for the time being.
“That depends. Do I need to order food?”
She makes a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, that’s the rule at the bar, isn’t it? If you’re gonna hang here, you need to order food.” I wink at her. “I was just making a joke.”
“Oh. So smooth. Just like your lame pick-up line!”
I furrow my brow. “Lame? I actually thought it was kinda clever, you know, since you banged into me and made me spill my drink all over you. I figured it was a good opening.” I let out a chuckle. “Guess I figured wrong.”
“You figured very wrong!” she says, her fists clenched at her sides. “And I don’t appreciate the harassment!”
“How is it harassment if I just want to talk to you?” Her face is bright pink now and she’s angry. So I play along because it’s just too much fun watching her get all hot and bothered.
She pushes her chest against me, and fuck me if my cock doesn’t tingle a bit despite the world of shit I’ve recently been plunged into. “It’s harassment if I don’t feel the same way!”
“Chella, do we have a problem here?” A guy behind the bar wanders over, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks from me to the girl.
Chella.
I’d always loved her name. it always sounded sensual. Sexy. Savage.
And I just ignited a spark inside of her.
Let the flames roar.
She jerks around, stumbling over her words of assurance that there is no problem, that we just had a minor collision.
I’d like to make it a major one next time.
The guy lifts an eyebrow at me, nodding at my empty glass. “You need another?”
I smirk. “You read my mind.”
“What’ll you have?”
“Macallan, neat.” I give the girl a sidelong glance, feeling her glare sear my skin.
He hands me a full glass. “I’ll check on your table, Mr…?”
“Just Joe,” I reply, holding up the glass. Average Joe. I never give my real name. It’s too recognizable, and I’m the guy who likes to blend into the shadows. Makes me more menacing. More of a ghost.
I turn toward Chella, but she’s already storming off toward the back room, her long brown ponytail swishing behind her, the scotch-soaked ends slapping against her back.
Mmm.
Booze and pheromones.
Fucking magic combination. Lethal in their complexity.
I look around the crowded room. None of my guys have shown up yet, and even though I’m anxious to get answers and figure out how to handle the scumbags who snatched Zoe and my blow, something about Marchella makes me forget what’s at stake.
Luckily, it’s no longer Zoe’s life.
Whoever pulled the job the other night stuck her in a nearby hotel room, half-naked and a hundred-percent panicked. They tied her up just enough to give themselves time to escape, but not so tight that she couldn’t free her wrists from the restraints.
They wanted me to know what they did.
They wanted to show me that I could easily be duped.
And I fucking was, something Matteo will not let go of if he finds out about it.
I’m supposed to be his right hand, his eyes and ears while he’s away!
How the hell do I tell him I that took my eyes off the ball and let piece-of-shit Salvatore manipulate me?
Salvatore.
Fucking guy is lucky I didn’t choke him with a chained cinderblock and sink him to the bottom of the Hudson River.
Although, I still may do that.
I should have just set him on fire and let his ass burn when I had the chance!
I loiter at the bar, waiting for Marchella to reappear after she stormed into a back room. Another glance at my watch confirms that my guys are officially late.
I toss back the amber-colored liquor, enjoying the heat snaking through my insides when a finger taps me on the shoulder. A pretty blonde smiles at me when I turn around.
I came here tonight because I wanted to keep a low profile in the wake of the supposed heist. I didn’t want any of my enemies watching me strategize…and sweat. There are plenty of other places down here in the West Village where I’m considered a regular but tonight, I wanted…no, needed…anonymity.
“Joe, right? Your table is ready.”
Yes. Exactly what I ordered.
The hostess shows me to the table and places a stack of menus in the center. “There’s a girl working here tonight. Chella is her name?”
The hostess smiles. “Yes. She’s one of our best servers.”
“I’d like her to handle my business tonight,” I say, sitting down in the corner with the entire room in my view. I don’t speak another word to the hostess. I just nod. She flashes a quick smile and hurries toward the back room.
I’m not a guy who likes to hear the word ‘no’. I’m glad she got the memo.
And I’m damn curious to see how well-received it is by my waitress for the evening, Marchella.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. My brother Dante’s name flashes across the screen.
Huh.
It’s not like Dante to just pick up the phone and shoot the shit with any of us. He’s usually on assignment…paid assignment. He’s basically a problem solver. Whenever there is someone causing a problem, he makes them disappear.
And voila! Problem solved.
He is truly the best at what he does, but he always keeps a low profile as a result.
He has to pretty much be invisible at all times in order to do his job as swiftly as possible.
If you so much as see him coming, it’s already too late.
You’re dead.
Dante thrives on the element of surprise in his kills.
He’ll get you either way, but he favors the sneak attack.
I stab the Accept button. “What’s the good word, bro? I thought you were holed up somewhere in South America.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m in your living room,” he says with a loud yawn. “And I need some pizza. Who do I order from?”
“Bleecker Street Pizza,” I say. “Best around and they’ll deliver fast.”
“Good, I’m starving. What time will you be home?”
“A couple of hours,” I say. “Hey, you’ll never guess who I just ran into. Marchella Amante.”
“Get the hell outta here. She still hot as fuck?”
“You have no idea.” I crane my neck to see if she’s returned to the seating area, but there’s no s
ign of her yet.
“Too bad her father fucked shit up. I’d have loved a chance to get her on her back.”
“Shut up,” I grumble.
“Still so sensitive about that, huh?” Dante chuckles. “You never could close the deal.”
“Like I ever had the option.”
“Yeah, Frankie was a sick bastard. He’d have castrated you.”
“Or worse,” I quip. “I wonder what she’s been up to. Her father caused a real shit show when he killed that Russian. I hear he’s in gen pop on Rikers Island. His days are numbered, that’s for sure.”
“Oh yeah? You gonna make a play to comfort her?”
“Nah, she didn’t recognize me,” I say, seeing Ray and Bobby finally walking into the restaurant. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. The guys are here. Don’t drink all my booze. I’m gonna need some when I get home.”
“I’ll try to save some of the booze. But don’t count on any pizza.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I smirk, clicking to end the call.
Ray and Bobby shuffle over to the table. I watch the patrons peer curiously at them as they walk over to meet me. They stick out like sore thumbs with their slicked-back hair, wearing expensive suits and shoes.
Definitely not the uniform for this type of place.
The guys pull out their chairs and sit down. Their eyebrows are knitted, their jaws tight, and I’m damn anxious to find out what they know.
And ready to take action against the pricks who tried to pull one over on me.
I lean forward, my hands folded. My eyes dart between their faces for a minute or two. “Are we speaking tonight? Or are we doing the whole mental telepathy thing for privacy’s sake?”
Ray takes a deep breath, raising his eyes toward mine. “Sorry, Roman. We, ah, have some information for you, but you’re not gonna like it.”
My back stiffens. “Tell me why.”
“Well, first, Dario was the one who was shielding the coke.”
I rub the back of my neck. “And why did he leave his post?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“He was banging one of the cocktail waitresses from the club. She went looking for him, flashed her pussy, and bing, bang, boom. The blow disappeared while he was getting a blow.”
I drop my head into my hand. First Salvatore, then Dario. The guy thinks with the head of his dick, so luring him away from his domain isn’t much of a challenge. I slam my fist on the table, vaguely aware that people are beginning to whisper and point.
All I care about is getting this situation under control and fast. If I have guys playing both sides of the fence, it means that one of our enemies has already burrowed into our organization like a fucking infection that will just keep getting worse and worse until I douse it with gasoline and fire. “Where is Dario now?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I figured you’d want to handle things with him directly. Somewhere other than here,” Ray says in a hushed voice. “Gio will take you to him.”
“Smart move. Do we have any leads? And in case you were wondering, that was a rhetorical question because we’d better have some fucking leads!”
The guys exchange a look.
Bobby clears his throat. “Yeah, um, when I found Zoe—”
“And she’s fine, yeah?” I interject. I’d been told she was unharmed when he got to her, but I want to hear it straight from Bobby that those fuckers didn’t hurt her before he blows me away with any more betrayals from my crew.
“Yes. Just scared shitless.” Bobby rubs the back of his neck. “I took her home and had Berto stay the night with her until we found the guys who snatched her.”
I nod. “Okay. So it was an inside job. Was it the Dominguez Cartel? Those bastards have been waiting for a chance to get us back for fucking up their whole trafficking ring months ago.”
A deadly hit led by my sister-in-law, Heaven.
She has the look of an angel…but the fire of the devil rages deep inside of her.
And damn, she lets that flame roar like wildfire when she needs to.
She’s seriously one of my favorite badasses.
We didn’t always have bad blood with the Dominguez Cartel, though. It wasn’t until Matteo violated an agreement with Dominguez himself that we were put at the top of their hit list. Heaven initiated the ambush on his sex-trafficking ring after his guys tried to pop Matteo.
The day after their wedding.
Those motherfuckers don’t play around.
Ever since Heaven killed Dominguez, I’ve heard that his sons have been working hard to put the pieces of their shattered organization back together.
I always knew it was only a matter of time before they came back to finish what their father started, even if I’m the only one in my family who believes they’re looking for revenge. Matteo always blows it off when I mention that they’re still a threat, but I know it’s real. And the robbery could be just the beginning.
Bobby shakes his head. “It wasn’t the cartel.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” I mutter. “Who the fuck is responsible?”
“That’s the thing,” Ray interjects. “You’re not gonna like it.”
I rake a hand through my hair. This conversation should have been cut and dry. An exchange of names, torture plans, and body part disposal methods. Period! “Let me ask you this — have I given you any indication that I like a single bit of this? No matter who is responsible? And why do I feel like you guys are dicking me around by dragging things out? This meeting was to deliver information, okay? And you two dipshits were late. So tell me what the fuck I need to hear so I can take action!”
“Ooh. You sound a little tense.” A sugary-sweet voice drawls, jolting me from my next sentence. “You also look pretty heated, so I figured you could use another one of these.”
I stop short, mid-tirade, staring up into Marchella’s captivating eyes. My mind immediately snoozes on the threat I was about to unleash at my guys if they didn’t come up with a name. I momentarily forget that I’m planning to bring holy hell to Dario in a matter of minutes. And the fact that our organization has been infiltrated by Christ only knows who has shifted to the back burner.
All because Marchella just entered my fucking orbit.
Something about this girl makes my brain cells fizzle out. It’s been that way since we were teenagers. It’s dangerous. Very fucking dangerous. She has me completely off my game right now. For all I know, this whole Dario meeting might be a setup. I mean, I could get into the car with my ‘trusted’ driver Tony, and all of a sudden, I become Joe Pesci in Goodfellas, driven out to the middle of the cornfields and beaten with a baseball bat before I’m thrown into a goddamn ditch and buried alive.
Not ideal for a guy who’s the interim ruler of this savage kingdom.
I should be focused, for fuck’s sake!
Anyone could be plotting my death in this very second.
But all my mind allows are looping, X-rated thoughts of this sexy vixen.
Chella lifts an eyebrow and holds up a glass, clinking the ice cubes around. “Was I right? Are you…thirsty? I pride myself on reading my customers and tending to their needs.”
Ray and Bobby just stare at her, their jaws practically hitting the table.
But they don’t hit the floor until she jerks forward and tips the glass so that the liquor pours right into my lap, joined by one single ice cube.
Fuck me.
That cooled me off.
And made me even hotter for her, if that’s possible.
“I’d say the drink’s on me, but…” She shrugs her shoulders with a challenging smile on her face. “Oops. I guess it’s really on you.” She grabs a linen napkin from a nearby table and dabs at the liquid in my lap. It takes me a second to rebound from the sudden shock of cold in my crotch, and when I do, I close my fingers around her wrist to stop her from tending to my groin. When the daggers shoot from her eyes, she hisses into my ear, “I hear you requested me, but they really sho
uld have told you how clumsy I am. And how I’m always spilling drinks and plates on my customers.”
“Is that how you think this works? You dump a drink on me, thinking I’ll ask for someone else? You think I’m gonna let you get away that easily?” A mischievous smirk lifts my lips because she has no fucking idea how patient I can be when it comes to her.
“I think that looks like a really expensive outfit, and I’d hate to see it ruined,” she whispers.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“I don’t have time for threats. I’m here to work. This job is important to me. So if this is your way of getting me back for yelling at you before, let’s just say we’re even and I’ll get you someone else—”
“No,” I say. “There won’t be anyone else.”
She furrows her brow. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly,” I reply. “It’s you and only you.”
Her nostrils flare and she folds her arms over her chest. I can tell she has plenty more to say, but like she told me, this job is important to her. She won’t risk it. “Are you a glutton for punishment?”
“We both know you’re not gonna rock the boat with this job. You just told me so yourself. Never show all your cards, babe.”
A flash of annoyance shadows her face when she realizes her bluff is total bullshit.
“If you even try to proposition me, I’ll have the bouncer kick you and your friends out on your asses,” she snips.
“My friends are just enjoying the show. They didn’t do anything,” I reply, goading her. “Don’t project your anger at me on them.”
“Oh, so now you’re a shrink?”
“Trust me, sweetheart, there’s nothing small about me,” I say with a chuckle.
Chella rolls her eyes, and even though she tries hard not to, her lips turn upward in the slightest hint of a smile.
“See? You do like me. Don’t fight it. Just accept that we’re friends.” And I want to say to her that it would be so much better if there were benefits involved.
“I don’t know. The jury’s still out on you,” she quips with a quirked brow, folding her arms over her chest.
I sneak a glance at the guys. They don’t know what to do right now. I can see them fighting against the smirks that threaten to tug at their lips. They think if they laugh I might kill them.
Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 3
