Bloodline: A DeLuca Family Novel (The DeLuca Family Book 4)

by K. A. Ware

  Unable to take the constant reminder of her indifference, I'd told her I had some business to take care of that afternoon, and I wouldn't be by the house. It was a mistake, being away from her intoxicating presence did nothing to lessen my budding obsession. Just the opposite, I was plagued with thoughts of her without any distraction.

  We'd spend the better part of the past week trying to track down Javi and his friend Nico with no luck. Mario's heart had given out before we could get a straight answer from him as to the whereabouts of his nephew. Victoria had been thrown into a fit of rage after discovering Mario dead on the concrete floor.

  I let her rage, throwing shit and generally acting like a child while I made a phone call to get someone to take care of the body. Once she was finished, I guided her back to the car and took her home to regroup.

  After the failed attempt to get Mario to talk we took to the streets. We searched everywhere Vic could think of that Javi might be hiding, knowing that he was the best chance we had at finding out who was behind the tainted drugs. Only, after the conversation with my brother, I wasn't sure that was true anymore.

  If the Salcedo cartel were the ones behind the coup, it could mean that they were after more than just Vic's territory. My uncle Vincenzo had made a deal with the Carrera cartel before I'd even come to America to work with him, and they'd been our supplier for more than two decades. The cartels in Mexico had been at each other's throats for years, but recently, the Salcedo cartel had been gaining traction.

  Salcedo, the smaller of the two, had been steadily increasing their footprint in the states, trying to gain enough territory to overthrow the Carrera's. If this was their move, it could mean an all-out cartel turf war in our backyard. The only question was why start with Vic? Through us, the Carrera's supplied up and down the entire west coast, so why start with Portland? There had to be some sort of connection that I wasn't seeing.

  I had a decision to make, bring Victoria into the fold with this new information and see if she knew anything, or keep her in the dark. Despite the news about the cartel, I was confident that someone within her inner circle was responsible for the poisonings, their motivation just may be different than I'd originally thought. If I couldn't trust her people, how could I trust her?

  I spent the day checking in with my people in Seattle, making sure things were running smoothly in my absence. I'd never been away for more than a few days at a time. Just as I was about to call Carlo, my phone pinged with a text message from Victoria.

  Meet me at my place; I've got a line on where we might be able to find Nico.

  Before I had time to respond, another text came through.

  Leave the twinkle toe shoes at home.

  "Would you relax?"

  "I don't know what you mean."

  She rolled her eyes and laid a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face the mirrored backsplash of the bar. "Look at you. You're stiff and standing there looking like you're fucking chaperoning a middle school dance. Don't you know how to blend?"

  Blend?

  No, I didn't know how to blend. I'd never had to. My entire life, I'd been attached to the DeLuca name. Never once did I have to pretend to be someone else. Flying under the radar wasn't necessary.

  Finesse and charm weren't qualities that I naturally possessed. That was Angelo's arena. He could walk into a room full of strangers and have them all eating out of the palm of his hand in minutes. Even Carlo could be charismatic when the situation called for it. My expertise, on the other hand, fell into the brute force and extraction of information categories.

  "I'd venture to guess no so why don't you enlighten me."

  "Dios Mio. That right there, you sound like a fucking professor or some shit."

  "Does my vocabulary offend you" I wasn't trying to be a dick, but my personality had only two sides, asshole, and scary motherfucker.

  "You know what? Maybe it's better if you just don't talk. Come on," she said taking my hand and leading me towards the crowded dance floor. I was acutely aware of the warmth of her skin against mine and the way my large hand cradled her much smaller one.

  I cringed as we moved through the press of sweaty bodies, thankful that I had left my suit jacket in the car. The uncomfortable heat coming off of the grinding couples all around us was stifling. I wasn't particularly fond of crowds; there were too many variables in a large group of people. An innumerable list of hidden threats, but the swarming vortex Vic had dragged me into was so much worse. Phantom limbs pressed into me on all sides, heightening my already maxed out senses.

  Oblivious to my discomfort Vic tugged me further along until we were in the middle of the madness.

  The beat of a song I didn't know pulsed through the horde all around us and Vic began swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music. I was hypnotized by the way her body moved and called to me. Reaching up above her head, her eyes fell closed, and she rolled her hips. It was impossible to stop my hands from reaching out for her. As soon as my fingers touched the smooth sliver of skin that was exposed just above her jeans, her eyes flicked open and locked on mine.

  The heat we'd shared before was back and burning brighter than ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  VIC

  Feeling Antonio's touch was like a balm to my aching need. His hands circled my waist, pulling me closer as I continued to dance. My pulse kicked up as his thumbs traced lazy circles on my hip bones. Despite my continued movement and our close proximity, Antonio stood still, letting me dance on him rather than with him.

  "I thought Italians were supposed to know how to move?"

  He leaned down and spoke into my ear, just loud enough to be heard above the roar of the crowd. "You didn't seem to have a problem with the way I moved last week."

  I blinked up at him in both shock and intrigue. He'd broken the unspoken rule we'd set in place to not speak of what had happened at Mario's garage. I had all but chalked it up to bloodlust and endorphins, but he'd broken through that invisible barrier and drove headlong into the subject.

  Two can play at that game.

  I turn my head so that I was the one speaking into his ear. "Maybe next time you'll let loose and show me how you can really move."

  Antonio spun me around and with a hand on my belly, pressed me against him until his thick erection was pressed firmly against my ass. Burying his nose in my hair, he nipped at my earlobe, sending a jolt of excitement through my body.

  "I thought you learned your lesson about telling lies, do you need a refresher?"

  My body hummed in anticipation of what Antonio's version of teaching me a lesson would entail. If it was anything like what he'd shown me before, I was in.

  Finally, he began to move behind me, his resistance before clearly not due to lack of skill. He moved fluidly with me as the song played on, our hips swaying together to the beat. My pussy clenched every time he flexed his hips into my backside, letting me know how much he wanted me.

  Nico better hurry up and show his face so I can drag Antonio back home and have my way with him.

  As if my thoughts had conjured him out of thin air, I spotted Nico across the crowded room leaning against the bar.

  "He's here," I shouted over my shoulder and disengaged from the circle of Antonio's arms, headed straight for the bar. I didn't look back to see if he was following me, my focus was directed on the punk-ass kid at the bar who had the answers to my problems.

  "Nico!" I yelled over the noise of the packed club when I was just a few feet away. His head jerked to the side, and his eyes landed on me. A scowl instantly forming on his face.

  Getting in his face, I shoved at his shoulder. "What the fuck, Nico? I've been trying to reach you for a week. Why haven't you called me back?"

  "I've got nothing to say to you, Vic." He turned to push off the bar in an effort to get away for me, but he was blocked by Antonio's massive form.

  I pressed in until Nico was sandwiched between myself and Antonio with nowhere else to go. "That's bullshit, and you
know it. Javi's been out running his mouth talking about how he's in a new crew that's all set to take me down. I know whatever shit Javi's in, you're there right along with him."

  Nico's carless attitude turned dark, he stood taller, and his eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. "I don't know what you're talking about and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you shit. You aren't the top dog anymore, Vic. People already plannin' where they're going to get their supply from when you're finished. Too many dead bodies ain't good for business." A smug smile played on his lips.

  He wasn't putting on a false bravado; he believed what he was saying and what was worse, he wasn't scared. If I lost the fear that my name held, it was only a matter of time before everything else crumbled around it.

  My jaw clenched, and I leaned in further until my nose grazed his cheek. "Do I need to remind you who you're talking to? Because you seem to have gotten it twisted, thinking you're safe because there are all these people around." I waved my hand behind me to illustrate my meaning. "I'm still La Patrona. The Boss. I'm at the top of the food chain, and you'd do well not to forget it. Because if I set my eyes on you. There's nowhere for you to hide. Do you understand me, boy?"

  Screams echoed over the pumping music, saving Nico from having to answer. I turned my head in time to witness a sea of terrified people scrambling for the exits, just before the shots rang out.

  The sound ricocheted off the walls and before I could even reach for my gun something solid slammed into me from the side. I was knocked off my feet and onto the hard, concrete floor of the warehouse. Twisting under the heavy weight of a body, I tried to get free, panic seizing in my chest. It was no use though, the mass of muscle above me wasn't budging. It took me a beat to recognize the fancy cologne, Antonio.

  He growled above me as I continued to squirm, less violently than before. "Stay down."

  I managed to free my head enough to peek out under his arm. Nico was gone. Antonio had me pinned to the floor underneath the ledge of the bar. "If I stay down here I'm going to get trampled!" I screamed.

  Antonio seemed to take a moment to assess the situation before he relented, lifting up and off me into a crouching position.

  He hovered over me and pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants. Reaching out with his free hand, he helped me to my feet. My hand automatically went for my own gun. While I was thankful Antonio had tried to protect me, I wasn't about to play the damsel in distress. If someone was after me, I was perfectly capable of handling myself.

  "Stay low and follow me," Antonio ordered as he started moving against the crowd. I wanted to protest at him taking the lead, but it was no use, he was already being swallowed by the mob. With my gun pointed toward the floor, I moved away from the alcove beneath the bar and followed him into the throng of people.

  I wasn't sure how Antonio knew where to go since I was sure he hadn't been to the club before, but he led us down a dank hallway past the bathrooms through the exterior alley door.

  The door banged against the brick wall of the building as we barreled through it. The brisk night air stung as it hit my bare, overheated skin. The building was backed up to another, each end of the narrow alleyway opening to the street. I could hear sirens in the distance.

  We needed to move, fast.

  "This way," I shouted recognizing the street we'd parked on.

  We both sprinted for the street, our footfalls echoing amongst the brick buildings. We slowed as we reached the road and the swarms of club goers milling about. Tucking our guns away, Antonio tilted his chin towards the intersection where blue and red lights bathed the asphalt.

  Without a word, we quietly turned in the opposite direction and made our way calmly through the huddled groups of crying girls toward the car.

  "Damn it!" I yelled, slamming my fist down on the glovebox. "It's going to take forever to find Nico again."

  "He wasn't going to give anything up tonight anyways." Antonio's calm voice grated on my nerves.

  "True, but damn that was a close one."

  "Too close. And I don't like the fact that I didn't get an eye on the shooter."

  "We don't even know if it was about us. I saw a lot of bangers in there."

  Antonio shook his head at me. "I don't believe in coincidences."

  "You might be right." I didn't want to admit to myself that things had gotten that far out of control. I tugged on the ends of my hair contemplating my options. Pulling out my phone I began to type out a message to Luis.

  I saw him watching me out of the corner of my eye. "What is it?"

  "Hmm?"

  "What's the matter? You only pull on your hair like that when you're frustrated."

  My head snapped up, and I studied his features in the light of the passing street lamps. A feeling I wasn't prepared to decipher, bloomed in my chest.

  "My niece's first communion is tomorrow, and I'm hosting the party."

  The look of disbelief on Antonio's face was almost comical. "You want to throw a fucking party?"

  I shrugged. "It's my nieces first communion; we have to have a party."

  "I can't believe you're not taking this seriously."

  That got my attention.

  I turned in my seat so that I was facing him head on. "You don't think I'm taking this seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? This is more than my livelihood; this is my life on the line. Just because we have shit going on doesn't mean that life stops. I promised my niece a huge party for her first communion, and I'm damn well going to give it to her. I don't know how they do things where you're from, but around here family means everything."

  The unbidden memory of the last party I'd hosted at my house came to the forefront of my mind. I was determined not to let the fear that my brother's death brought dictate my life, but I wasn't willing to take unnecessary risks. We would have guys on the street keeping a lookout while the party was going on and making sure we didn't have a repeat. I didn't want to bury another family member.

  His jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything, so I continued. "Besides my entire crew will be there, you've been wanting an opportunity to get them all together and see how they react to you. This is your chance. That, and everyone will be drinking, so their guard will be down."

  That got a reaction out of him. "There's going to be alcohol at a nine-year-old's first communion?"

  A genuine laugh bubbled up and spilled from my lips. "You've really never been to a Mexican party, have you?"

  "I'm pretty sure there's only one kind of Catholic. How much different could communion be in Mexico?"

  "The communion is the same as everywhere else; it's the way we celebrate after that's different."

  "I see."

  I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "No, but you will."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Antonio

  I could hear the music the moment I open my car door; it was pouring out of Victoria's house. There were people all over the place, setting up tables and running in and out of the front door with flowers and plates of food. I picked my way through the gathering crowd and up to the door, the porch steps creaking in protest.

  I didn't immediately see Vic among the people milling about in the living room, but loud voices coming from the kitchen drew me closer. The scene that lay before for me when I reached the doorway to the kitchen froze me in my spot.

  Never in a million years would I have imagined what I ended up finding. Instead of the thuggish and sharp-tongued Queenpin Vic that I'd become accustomed to, I found an entirely different Victoria. She stood at the stove in a black dress and heels with an apron tied tightly around her waist. She was stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious and talking with an older woman who was pressing some sort of dough into an ancient looking contraption I'd never seen before.

  I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the older woman must've said something funny because as I stood there staring Victoria's head tilted back and a genuine laugh tumbled from her lips. From the first moment I'd
met her, I'd noticed she was beautiful. But standing there in the kitchen watching her do something so uncharacteristic of the woman I knew, seeing the unbridled joy on her face, was an otherworldly kind of beautiful that I'd never known existed. She caught sight of me standing in the doorway, and a range of emotion flashed across her face. Fear, disappointment, guilt, I couldn't place it, but almost as soon as it had marred her features, she'd smoothed back her mask and smiled brightly.

  "Mr. Chairman! Glad you made it, come on in," she said, motioning me closer with her wooden spoon.

  It was like Gangland meets Martha Stewart Living, but the clashing of her ink-covered arms with the floral apron somehow worked.

  She turned to the older woman, "Maria, this is my friend Antonio. He's going to help you with the tortillas."

  "I am?" I asked, instantly kicking myself for saying something so stupid. What the hell was she thinking? I didn't cook. If you asked me to take care of a problem, a guy who owed you money? Sure, I could handle that, but cooking something edible? Not on my life.

  "Yes, you are. This is a family party; there are no idle hands here. Everybody pitches in, that's how it works." Her succinct explanation left no room for argument.

  "All right then," I said on a deep exhale. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Start by putting your jacket on one of the chairs and rolling up your sleeves. Making tortillas can be messy work."

  I did as I was told, folding my jacket over the only uncluttered chair. I left my shoulder holster and pistols in place. I wasn't about to be caught off-guard, even if it was a house party. I briefly wonder if being armed would garner me unwanted attention but the older woman Maria didn't bat an eye. Without sleeves to roll up, since I'd worn a t-shirt, I approached the woman manning the press that looked like something from a torture chamber.

  Maria nodded at me to follow her lead and guided me through the process. My first attempt turned out a lopsided an uneven mess, causing the older woman to laugh and deep lines to form in the paper-thin skin. Her face lit up, and she patted me on the cheek, reassuring me that I'd get the hang of it.