Savage Prince (DeSantis Mafia Book 2)

by S. Massery

  “Why did you let him go alone?” I whisper. I immediately shake my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that.”

  He makes a frustrated noise. “Tell me what’s going on. I swear, Gemma, I tried to follow him. He lost me going into Manhattan this morning. Where is he?”

  “He’s dead.” I close my eyes.

  Aiden’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. “Gemma.”

  “Listen to me, Colin. You cannot act out against the DeSantises for this.” I want to reach through the phone and make sure he’s hearing me. First Kai, now Dad. How many hits can our family take? “Let me handle this.”

  “Jameson,” Colin grunts. “That bastard killed our father? Did you see it?”

  I suck my lower lip between my teeth. I refuse to tell him the details—it’ll just incite him.

  Aiden takes the phone from my hand. “Colin, it’s Aiden.”

  He strides away from me before I can even open my mouth to protest.

  “Miss?” One of the guys who had moved Dad’s body comes over with a towel. “Sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. I’m Ford.”

  I nod once.

  “I thought you might like to clean up…” He extends the towel.

  I take it and stare down at my hands. “One towel might not be enough.” I glance up. “Are you with Aiden or the family?”

  “Aiden,” Ford says firmly. “My boys and I don’t see eye to eye with the DeSantises. We leave them to their business.”

  “Then clean up their mess,” I finish.

  His brows draw together. “For what it’s worth, no one’s ever outright targeted Lawrence before—especially not Jameson. We couldn’t have predicted…”

  “Maybe it was because we showed up at Wilder’s funeral.” I scrub at my hands, staining the white fabric pink. “He probably took it as a direct insult. Then my engagement to Aiden… I don’t know. That bastard deserves to die for this.”

  Ford nods.

  Aiden returns and loops his arm around my shoulders, holding me into his side. I go willingly and let him hold some of my body weight.

  “What did you say to Colin?” I ask him.

  “I explained what happened. We’ll go meet him and return your father’s body.”

  I exhale. “He’ll try to kill you.”

  “He won’t. Temporary truce for bereavement.” He kisses my temple. “Come on.”

  He leads me through the kitchen and out the back door, where an SUV idles. He guides me into the passenger seat. I stare straight ahead, and he leans over me, buckling me in, and then closes my door. A moment later, Ford and his partner carry out the plastic-wrapped body. They slide it… him into the backseat. They shake Aiden’s hand and return to the restaurant.

  “Where are we meeting Colin?” My stomach twists.

  “Outside the city.” Aiden buckles and starts the car, the navigates out onto the quiet street. “I know better than to ask how you are, but…”

  “I’m fine.”

  He glances at me.

  It’s a bright, warm afternoon, like New York just wants to send another fuck you to my emotions. I shove everything down and focus on the road ahead of me.

  The DeSantises have taken everything from me—and I suddenly wonder if Aiden wants to finish us off by killing Colin. I grit my teeth against the sudden surge of panic.

  “Don’t hurt my brother,” I say, turning and grabbing Aiden’s leg. “I know you think he killed Wilder, but please. And I know begging doesn’t help anything. It’s pointless—”

  His hand covers mine. “I meant what I said. We have a truce. For the afternoon.”

  I nod shakily and try to withdraw, but his grip tightens. I roll my eyes and stop trying to fight it. He relaxes as soon as I do.

  “How did your mother die?” he asks me.

  I flinch. Dig my fingers into his thigh. “Why are you asking me?”

  “You never talked about it. No one does.” He shrugs. “And I don’t want you retreating into your head.”

  I inhale sharply. It’s exactly what I want, though: to hide away in my mind so I can stop processing this awful week. But instead, I open my mouth and talk. I don’t start with her death. I start with her life with Dad. Me. Colin.

  16

  Aiden

  She sits beside me, her hand on my leg, and tells me stories about her family. I don’t know any other time she’d volunteer this information, but we’ve opened the floodgates, and it all comes pouring out.

  Family trips, the way her mother and father would swing her as they went down the sidewalk, riding horses through Central Park. They got as close to normal as a Mafia family could get, it sounded like. She lived carefree until the day I came along.

  After that, everything changed. I can hear it in her voice.

  No more spur-of-the-moment outings. Guards followed them through Central Park, accompanied them on trips. They moved Gemma to their Manhattan home and homeschooled her. She was the vulnerable one, she guessed. While Colin got to learn how to shoot and fight—her cousin, Kai, taking him under his wing—she was pushed toward academia.

  And probably, eventually, marriage.

  I didn’t expect to care—I didn’t expect to be hanging on her words. I wanted her to talk so she wouldn’t slip into a numb shock—talking keeps her present. But it’s grounded me in the present, too. Here we are, driving toward Hillshire County, and I want to know everything. I crave it.

  “You don’t want to hear about her death,” she says quietly.

  “I do.”

  It was eighteen months ago. She was already gone and buried by the time the newspapers got wind of it. A nice little tribute in the New York Times, a professional photo of her from her wedding. It gathered a lot of sympathy around the city. Even if she wasn’t very well known, she was a West.

  Her impact was clear by her last name alone.

  Faith West just had something about her.

  “I met her once, before the feud between our families got out of control,” I tell her.

  Gemma stares blankly ahead. Maybe she knows this already, or maybe she’s trying to hide her surprise.

  “I was pretty young. I don’t know why my parents insisted on bringing Wilder and I to a charity dinner. She caught me drawing on the underside of a table with a permanent marker.” I chuckle at the memory of her lifting the tablecloth, trying to suppress her grin. “She treated me with kindness.”

  “She had an aneurysm,” Gemma says. “Doctors said she was born with it, and it was a ticking time bomb in her head waiting to go off. I was with my tutor, and Colin was out. I don’t know where Dad was. By the time we realized it wasn’t just a migraine she could sleep off, it was too late.”

  She quickly brushes a tear from her cheek.

  “It wouldn’t have been my play to take away your remaining parent.” I feel… agonized over it. And I don’t know why. Lawrence West has been a thorn in our family’s side for years. His family loves to cause trouble. Yet the guilt rides through me in steady waves.

  “You just sat there.” Her voice is barely audible. “You sat there and let Jameson hold a knife to my throat, then a gun. A gun, and you had one on the table. You threatened him with it, and he still did exactly what he wanted.”

  She twists to face me.

  “Would you have killed him?”

  I grit my teeth. “I should’ve killed him.”

  “You should have.”

  “He won’t lay a finger on you again.” I will her to believe me. I managed to keep a lid on my anger—it wouldn’t have done any good in that room. But now, it seems to flash through my blood like lightning.

  He threatened me, too. Shot at me.

  The worst part? I couldn’t tell if he was serious. If my own father would kill me just to spite Gemma or Lawrence. If she had chosen her father, he might’ve killed me and then her, just to make the Wests suffer.

  I pull onto a narrow road. It leads to one of the forests surroun
ding Hillshire County. We pass the main parking area for hikers and campers. Soon, it turns to gravel. Then just a two-track path through the grass.

  We park on the side, and I kill the engine, tipping my head back. I tilt so I can see her. “Can I ask you something?”

  She huffs, but I take it for a yes.

  “Will you go back with Colin?”

  I’ve surprised her. She yanks her hand off my leg and curls into herself. Her reaction isn’t what I expect—I guess this, too, is a test.

  “You’d let me?”

  I scowl. “No.”

  “Then, no,” she answers. “I’m not stupid.”

  I highly doubt it’s stupidity keeping her with me. She knows we’ve still been searching for Colin—who has remained elusive over the past two months. I never lied to her about stopping.

  Something else keeps her at my side.

  Another car coming up behind us catches my attention. I watch it in the mirror until it stops next to us, and Colin rolls down the passenger window. He doesn’t even spare me a glance, just leans forward to see Gemma.

  His face pales.

  Yeah, there’s still a good amount of blood on her dress. Her face and neck are covered in spatter, too. She cleaned her hands off, but sometimes blood just sticks.

  “You okay, Gem?”

  She nods and shoves her door open. Colin meets her in the front of our cars, wrapping her in a hug. She tucks her head to his chest.

  I unholster my gun and keep it low. If he so much as moves back toward his car with her…

  But then he releases her and looks her up and down.

  I step out of the car, slamming my door.

  Colin West and I have a lot more in common than he might think. Both not entirely sure we were meant to run our families, but suddenly having that thrust upon us. Because I have no doubt he’s going to return home and pull his family up by the straps.

  And then they’ll come for us—harder than they’ve already been. The attacks my father has been keeping under wraps will explode into the daylight. No more one-offs. We’re trucking toward a fully fledged war, and honestly? I’m not sure if the Wests will survive it.

  My father is ruthless. And he has a plan.

  He always has a plan.

  Colin eyes my gun and laughs. “Really, DeSantis? Don’t trust me?”

  “Just making sure you don’t manhandle my girl.” I narrow my eyes.

  His gaze swings between me and Gemma. “Your girl?”

  “She’s mine,” I affirm. I try to keep the growl from my voice, but it’s damn near impossible. I don’t bother telling him the only reason we’re both alive is because she picked me over her father—some things should be kept to ourselves. But I file away that information for later, in case he turns out to be a bigger dick than Lawrence.

  Colin sighs. “Fine. I hoped…”

  “He’d still come after you,” she whispers. “Dad didn’t kill Wilder. We both know that. He was just waiting for a moment to murder him.”

  I grip my gun tighter. She’s right—he didn’t kill Wilder. My brother’s murderer stands right in front of me. But what did my father gain from Lawrence’s death? That’s the question I need to chase down.

  Because he has a plan, and it will backfire on Gemma and me if we’re not careful.

  Gemma steps in front of him and walks toward me. I glare over her shoulder at her brother, tempted as hell to just… get it over with. Pull the trigger. It would be no less than the vengeance my brother deserves.

  She puts her hand on my wrist.

  “Trust me.” She keeps tugging until I meet her gaze. “We’re just going to keep shedding blood until there’s no one left. Stop this.”

  Her side has seen two deaths inside a week, more, if the situation on the street is as bad as I’m starting to think. There’s pain in her eyes, and I’ve never wanted to be a DeSantis less than I do right now.

  I nod and holster my firearm. “Wait in the car, princess.”

  She heaves a sigh. This is the part where Colin and I do the dirty work. We can’t make him disappear, but Colin can deliver his body to the morgue. Everything can be done quietly. No fuss. No disaster. Some money will change hands, but the police won’t be called. Just like when Faith, Gemma’s mom, died and the hospital staff was bribed to keep things quiet for a month.

  Gemma sits rigidly in the front seat as Colin and I get his trunk open, laying down another layer of protective plastic. Then we lift Lawrence’s body out of the car and carry him the short distance, sliding him inside.

  Colin and I pause next to each other, staring down at the body.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer. It’s the only apology he’ll get from me, because the rest of them? I don’t feel remorse. Not for killing his cousin or whoever else has crossed our path since I learned how to shoot. I wanted the apology to lessen the guilt. Gemma was completely right: I didn’t stop it. I couldn’t.

  The family would turn on me if I killed Jameson without a good reason—and saving Lawrence West would not have been a good reason. I grit my teeth and force myself to keep a straight face. I should just drive south and not stop.

  Abandon ship.

  “Get my sister out of here,” he says, like a mind reader. “It’s the least you can do. Remove her from the line of fire—because it’s coming for you.”

  I nod. “I’ll consider it.”

  He eyes me. “I’m going to say goodbye to her.”

  “Okay.”

  He steps around me.

  “We’re getting married in three days.” I guess I can’t let him have the last word. Or… I’m trying to lessen the guilt. Again.

  He freezes. His shoulders bunch up, like he’s trying to contain himself.

  “So declared by my father,” I finish.

  He whirls around. “You hurt her, I’ll make it my mission to end you.”

  I roll my eyes, but I don’t bother to make promises. This sort of life is destined to hurt us one way or another.

  “I expect nothing less, West.” At least someone is looking out for Gemma’s best interests. Because it definitely isn’t anyone in my family.

  He goes to say goodbye to Gemma, and I slam his trunk closed.

  “Rest in peace, old man.”

  17

  Gemma

  Cat waits for us outside Aiden’s apartment. Her eyes widen when she sees us step off the elevator. My legs buckled on the way in, and Aiden has yet to put me down. I study her but don’t lift my head from his chest.

  This day has been bone-crushingly exhausting, and it’s catching up to me. Eventually, my numbness will break and all I’ll be able to do is feel. I’m dreading that moment.

  Aiden tosses Cat his key, and she unlocks the door for us.

  She follows us inside. “Gemma, I—”

  “This is really not a good time,” Aiden says.

  I sigh. We’re due a conversation, and it may as well be now. “Put me down, please.”

  His gaze meets mine, and all I can see in his eyes is concern. Little broken Gemma. Still, he sets me on my feet and stands so close behind me, I can feel his body heat. He winds his arms around my waist and pulls me against him.

  I guess this will happen in front of him.

  “I’m sorry,” Cat blurts out.

  “Me, too.” I step out of his embrace and grab her hands. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve just been there for you. It’s fucked-up what happened, and I… I let myself just fall back on how I was raised. But it isn’t right.” Her gaze rises and drills into Aiden. “Can you give us a minute?”

  “Fine.” He strides upstairs.

  We don’t speak again until the bedroom door swings shut.

  “I shouldn’t have said Kai was a soldier,” she whispers.

  Following her lead, I keep my voice hushed, too. “It gets worse.”

  She leads me over to the kitchen and wets one of the dish towels. “I take it your lunch was… not pl
easant, judging from the blood on your face.”

  My gaze hardens. “Jameson killed my father in front of Aiden and me.”

  She drops the towel. When she bends down to retrieve it, she stays down. I crouch beside her and grip her arm.

  “Cat.”

  “This family is so fucked-up.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Please tell me your father… he did something to deserve it, right? Attacked Aiden? Tried to take you back?”

  My laugh is hollow. “No.”

  “Sam told me Aiden was the one who killed your cousin,” she whispers. “And I just feel so much worse about everything. How are you still standing?”

  “I don’t know.” I choke on a laugh, sliding backward to sit on the floor beside her. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  “What?”

  “After you left yesterday, I went up to the roof. I guess someone in the family wasn’t thrilled that I was around, because he tried to drown me.”

  Cat grabs my hands. “I… don’t understand. You haven’t done anything.”

  “I exist.” I lift my chin and meet Aiden’s gaze over her shoulder. I didn’t hear him come down, but his presence is enough to prickle awareness across my skin “Sometimes existing is enough of an offense.”

  “I thought it was,” Aiden says. “But it isn’t.”

  He comes over and helps me to my feet, then Cat.

  She hands him the damp towel and steps back. “I’m going to go. But tomorrow, or maybe the day after—you and me, okay?”

  I nod. Now that we’re back on the same page, some of my guilt eases. She makes a hasty exit, and I turn carefully in Aiden’s arms.

  “You’re a mess.” He runs his hands down my arms.

  “That’s harsh.”

  He finds the hidden zipper under my arm and drags it down, pushing the blue fabric off my shoulders. It slips past my hips and pools at my feet. My breath hitches when he lifts me onto the counter.

  “It’s not harsh when you’re covered in blood,” he says quietly.

  “This is just becoming our new thing.”

  He cracks a smile. “Well, glad to see you’re adjusting to Mafia life.”