“Jesus, fine.” I was sick of his mewling. “I’ll keep my ears open. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
I leaned in the driver’s seat as Pete drove off. I viewed the biker wars like a cold. It’d worsen before the power struggle shook out its kinks, and then we’d be back to normal. Inserting myself into the conflict was unnecessary. I didn’t understand why Nico kept harping on making peace with Legion. Who cared which MC emerged the victor? If they destroyed each other, perfect. My money was on Rage Machine. I hated Legion on account of the president demanding Liana’s hand.
My thoughts went haywire. I’d offered to save her from them. What more did she need? I scanned our conversation—why had she been so pissed?
Vincent.
My stomach clenched.
I’d assumed Vincent was a dumb lie, but she’d practically thrown me from her house. Then she’d shown up at the gala with that college boy. She mouthed off to me constantly. Perhaps she resented me for taking her from the other guy.
My knuckles whitened. Heat pricked my chest. Maybe she wanted to get with the other Vincent—or that prick who’d made my skin crawl.
What was his name?
James.
I let him off way too easy. My lip curled as I pictured them cozying up in some diner. I shoved my keys into the ignition, stopping as a shadow rippled the ground.
Fucking Pete.
I rolled down the window and stuck out my head, but the angry retort lodged in my throat.
Because I stared into the barrel of a gun.
Ten
Vinn
Nico got out of prison.
Two years early.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for being jumped by my bodyguards, forced at gunpoint into a car, and driven to my boss’s mansion. He’d materialized in Boston like a rabbit out of a magician’s hat. Nobody told me he’d been released. Not the lawyers I kept on retainer or my informants inside his jail. He’d blindsided me.
I stood with Michael in Nico’s living room, which doubled as a museum for my cousin Anthony. His athletic trophies filled the china cabinet. Pictures of the shithead smiled at me from every direction.
My father gave me his stupid name—Vincent—shortly before running out on my mom after I was born. I had no family except Michael’s, and they were a hot mess.
Anthony had it all—money, great schools, sports, parents who loved him. I’d always felt like a peasant when I visited here. My clothes were too dirty for their furniture. I taught myself not to eat everything in sight because my mother couldn’t pull it together enough to make me a sandwich.
I’d envied Anthony.
I’d resented his privilege. I’d stewed in jealousy at the mountain of gifts under the tree every Christmas. As I grew older, my contempt for him deepened into disgust. He’d wasted his potential. Thrown away all that education to become a waste of space. He’d been a junkie and liability.
But as I watched my heavyset uncle pace the living room, gun in hand, I wondered who was the real disaster.
“How did prison treat you, zio? They feed you well?” I pretended not to notice the thirty pounds of weight he’d added, smiling. “Should’ve told me you were back. I could’ve stopped at Lucchese’s.”
“Alessio did already.” He motioned to a pile of meat on butcher paper. “Got me it as soon as he heard. Good kid.”
That fucking asshole.
I ground my teeth. “He knew?”
“No. I called him a couple hours ago.” Nico grabbed the bottle of wine, his hands trembling. “I wanted to get the full story. He said a lot of things that concerned me.”
Great. “So he’s underboss now?”
“I offered, but he doesn’t want the job anymore—”
“Which he made clear when he left town!”
“You ruined what I built.” His voice leapt from the low baritone to a thundering roar. “You destroyed our leadership, compromised our position in Boston, and you lost my son!”
Jesus. “I didn’t lose your dipshit son!”
Nico seized the handle of his Glock and pointed it at me. “What did you call Anthony?”
Was he drunk?
It wouldn’t be the first time Nico had one too many and shot someone. But I wasn’t in the mood to lie down and die.
“Nico, put it down. You’ve had too much to drink.”
“I’m not drunk.” He stabbed it in the air like a toddler. “You have a lot to answer for. Both of you.”
I rolled my eyes, meeting Michael’s slanted gaze.
He stood beside me, fists clenched. He looked ready to blow, and the sight of his lips pressed together winded me like a gut-punch.
“You fucking maniac. You bastard.” Michael’s words blazed like a wave of fire as he screamed at Nico. “You took me in front of my kids! While I was picking them up at daycare.”
A shock rippled through my limbs. Even I wasn’t that crazy.
I stared at Nico. “Seriously?”
Nico seemed unconcerned. “I needed a conversation with you both.”
“Where’s Alessio, then?”
“I’ve already dealt with him,” he snapped, wearing a sneer that reminded me of his douchey son. “You’re next.”
I opened my mouth to snarl an insult, and changed my mind. I bit the inside of my cheek. I fought the ribbon of anger working through my muscles.
Michael seized my arm, his grip biting. His pleading stare dug into my chest. He didn’t deserve to have his brain dashed out in Nico’s dated living room. People depended on him. Unlike me, he had a family who’d miss him.
So be it.
“Send Michael away,” I muttered, my stomach hardening. “You’ve made it clear you can get him wherever he is. If you need to put a bullet in my head, fine, but leave him alone. Anthony was my responsibility.”
Nico didn’t budge. “He stays.”
I had to save him.
I licked my dry lips. “Michael shouldn’t be here.”
“He. Stays.”
Let him go, damn it. “This is fucked up, Nico.”
“You know what’s fucked up? Sitting in a cell while your nephews destroy everything you’ve built. You’re a goddamned parasite, Vinn, and you.” He faced Michael, who went rigid. “What the hell were you thinking? You murdered the asshole who knew where Anthony was!”
“I gave the order,” I blurted. “Michael was just following orders. It’s my fault—not Michael’s.”
A total lie, but whatever.
Michael buried his head in his hand. The other clawed his leg. It probably killed him to say nothing. The idiot better stay quiet and let me take the fall.
“How could you do something so stupid?” Nico screamed, the sound blasting my ear. “You should’ve kept him alive for questioning.”
“No point. Crash was out of his mind. He didn’t want to negotiate. He wanted to torture, so I made a decision.”
“Yeah, a reckless one,” he replied in a low voice. “Alessio would’ve never pulled this shit. He would’ve run it by me.”
“How was I supposed to do that with you in jail?”
Nico pointed the gun at my face.
I waited for his judgment.
Images streamed in my head—waves lapping ashore, preening seagulls, gloomy skies and cold nights, tall glasses of beer and stacks of fried cod. A flicker of warmth shot into my chest.
The sting of metal on my cheek chased it away.
“You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood,” Nico sneered. “I’ll give you one last chance.”
Michael blew a sigh, but my insides roiled.
“Toe the line, because if I pull this trigger, you’re headed straight for hell.” He dipped his head, teeth flashing. “You cold snake.”
Nico backed off, stowing the piece in his robe. “We’re repairing the alliance you broke. The Legion president knows where my boy is, and all he wants is the girl.”
The president didn’t have Anthony. He was dangling him in front of N
ico, hoping he’d bite.
“The girl is Michael’s sister, and it’s a scam.” I jigged my knee restlessly, eye-fucking him. “They’re playing you.”
“No, they’re not,” he muttered. “He’s on Leda, but I can’t get to him without their connections.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
Leda was an island off the Caribbean owned by several billionaires. White-collar criminals, arms dealers, drug traffickers, and all manner of rich and corrupt flew in at invitation-only to network and make multibillion-dollar business deals. It was also a major human trafficking hub.
I hadn’t bothered investigating because a mafia boss from Boston didn’t pull any weight on Leda, and I’d assumed Anthony had been sold to a local rival syndicate and murdered.
“They sent me a proof-of-life video. He’s there. I’m getting him back,” Nico said, his fat face melting with a smile. “All I have to do is give him the girl. Liana.”
A tide of nausea crawled up my throat.
Michael exhaled a ragged breath. “Again, we are not giving Liana away because it’s up to me, her brother, not you.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
“You might be boss, but there are rules.” Michael’s voice strained like a piano string, his growl darkening. “Break them, and you better be ready for the consequences.”
Nico closed his eyes as though to shut out everything. “You’d understand if it was your son.”
Michael shot upright, upsetting his chair. “I’m supposed to stand by and watch one of those animals marry my sister? No fucking way.”
“Michele,” Nico warned. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
I couldn’t believe Nico would sink so low.
This was the man who’d harped on the importance of family at every get-together. Blood is thicker than water was his constant refrain. Never mind that he’d picked an outsider to succeed him. And now, he was willing to sacrifice his niece for his impotent son.
The hypocrisy stabbed me in the brain, provoking a white-hot response in my body. Pain spiked into my head from my clenched teeth. I wanted to rip him apart.
“She’ll be raped, Nico.”
Nico jerked his head. “The president gave me his word he won’t mistreat the girl.”
“Do you know what this will do to my mother?” Michael exploded, his nostrils flaring. “You’re forcing her to be a hostage.”
“We are making this deal,” Nico fired back. “I forgive you for screwing up with Crash, but you need to meet me halfway.”
No.
My hands shook as I fought to keep them from wrapping Nico’s throat. Michael met my gaze. Bloodlust glazed his red eyes. He would attack Nico. If I didn’t defuse the situation, he’d beat the shit out of Nico, and it would end with him dead. We couldn’t kill a boss and escape untouched. The hired guns outside would make sure of that.
“It’s done,” Nico said, interpreting our silence as mute acceptance. “Killian’s picking her up right now.”
My stomach knotted as I pictured the president throwing Liana over his shoulder.
I had to do something.
“Nico, I’m dating Liana.” I licked my lips, grasping. “I actually…I just asked her to marry me, and she said yes. We’re engaged.”
Nico set down the bottle, a ring of burgundy staining the tablecloth. “Bullshit.”
I needed to sell this.
If I didn’t, I had no idea what I’d do. “I swear to God, I’m marrying her.”
He fisted my hair, digging the barrel into my temple. “I’ll put my gun up your ass for lying to me, boy.”
“Nico, come on. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” He’d have to confirm the news at least, and that’d buy me time to talk to Liana. “I never told you, but I’ve been seeing her for a few months.”
Michael stared at me before he had the sense to wipe his expression. “He’s telling the truth.”
I met Nico’s pitiless gaze. It wouldn’t be good enough. He was desperate. He’d do anything to save his son, even order me to break my fucking engagement.
“There are other women, Vincenzo.”
His bitter voice bottomed out my stomach.
I blurted the first thing that came to mind—“Nico, she’s pregnant.”
Eleven
Liana
Three days passed, but the memory of Vinn’s mouth ghosted mine in the shower, pressed into me at work, and swirled my head with doubt. The intimacy of those kisses burned me. As did the ache when I pulled away. Whenever I replayed his flicking tongue and that initial jolt of surprise, sparks flooded my cheeks and spread everywhere.
He'd kissed me like he’d waited his entire life for a taste, and that poked a splinter of hope into my pessimism. Maybe he had feelings for me. People's opinions changed, didn’t they? Michael had clashed with Carmela before falling for her.
I needed to stop thinking about Vinn.
I had to reorient myself and find the level-headedness that had severed him from my life, but I couldn’t think about dating without wondering if I’d recapture the dreamlike intensity of that kiss.
I clocked in from my lunch break, returning to the glass-walled cafe. It faced Bourton University's limestone buildings, the grandness a harsh reminder that I’d never afford the tuition. Luckily, Michael footed the bill, but I used as little of his money as possible.
Working as a barista was all right. Occasionally, I dealt with frazzled grad students crying over their thesis papers between wiping tables, steaming milk, and drowning shots of espresso in flavored syrups. The summer job distracted me from my brother’s death, Mom’s chain-smoking, and the danger on the streets. Without it, I spent too much time cooped up in my apartment.
Staying busy was the antidote to a troubled mind. I only wanted to worry about whether I should take Chemistry or Physics to satisfy my physical science requirement.
Someone rapped on the counter.
I beamed at the customer, a lithe man in his thirties who carried himself in a way that said that he’d made it. My gaze slipped over his Adam’s apple to a wide jaw and full lips, which pulled into a thick smirk when I met his sparkling blue eyes.
I studied his tattooed, muscled arms and leather cut. My heart thundered as I read the small white patch—president and Legion MC. A ball throbbed low in my throat.
Not a coincidence.
“Mister President.”
“I don't know about mister. Seems overly formal.” He leaned over and offered me a hand. “Killian.”
“Liana.” I shook it, my eyes dry from not blinking. “Nice to meet you.”
His powerful grip swallowed mine. Everything about Killian was too much, starting from the sensual flame in his smile, to his friendly touch. I gave him a pointed look, and he released me.
I stopped myself from wiping my hands on the nearest towel.
“You're cute in the apron,” he murmured. “But I would’ve thought Michael treated his sister better.”
My chest tightened. “I chose this job.”
“So you want to earn minimum wage?” Killian’s lips twitched as his voice took on an oily quality. “Boy, your brother should get a refund on that pricey Ivy League tuition. What are they teaching you?”
Ice touched my spine. “How do you know that?”
“I'm familiar with everybody, Liana. Especially you. I’ve watched you for a while. You run the treadmill every morning at eight in your Allston-Brighton flat. Your favorite pizza joint is around the block. You like hanging out with your friend Queenie. You’re single, and, rumor has it, untouched.”
My creep radar shot to the stratosphere. His hungry stare landed on intimate places. I shivered as though stripped naked.
“I was going to kill you,” he confessed, stunning me. “You were supposed to be retribution for the six guys your brother killed a year ago. I had you in my sights. Almost pulled the trigger.”
I snapped to attention.
All that registered in m
y brain was the jaunty French music breezing from the speakers, which dissolved into a saxophone cover of “La Vie En Rose.”
“What stopped you?” I said.
“That's an excellent question. I'm still figuring that out.”
He’d scared me with the dossier of information, the stalking, and watching me through windows. I needed to buy curtains—fuck curtains—I’d move to a high rise like Vinn’s.
This had to be a joke.
“Did you get it out of your system?”
His eyebrows knitted and he pulled back his head.
“Scaring the shit out of me,” I added for clarification. “Order a coffee, or I’m calling the police.”
Not like they’d do anything.
He glanced at the menu and lowered his voice. “I’ll have a steamy twelve-ounce of Italian roast. Don’t need any sugar, but you can kiss the cup for me.”
“Buddy, ask for her number and leave,” a heavyset customer hollered. “Let’s go!”
Killian’s eyes flashed with a deadly arrogance as he glanced at the growing line behind him. His lips yanked over a wolfish smile as he flipped off the man, who cringed, turned tail, and jogged toward the exit.
When Killian swiveled back, his jacket drifted over his waist, revealing a gun.
Shit.
A lump swelled in my throat. My thoughts staggered in a thousand different directions. “Look. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Well, that makes two of us. Meet me there and bring me something sweet.” He slid away, winking. “Besides yourself, I mean.”
The fuck?
He strolled to the tables where he sat, his leather and jeans looking out of place among the students tapping on laptops. Nobody paid him any attention as he lounged there, bumping his knee to the happy music.
What should I do?
Vinn’s warning pitted my gut with dread, because this guy was nuts, and not leaving without me. Beyond the glass walls, chrome winked on the sidewalk. My bodyguard was gone—probably held at gunpoint—crap. I reached for the panic button, hesitating. Calling the police would create more problems than it’d solve.
Faked: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 8
