Betraying the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 3)

by Kristen Luciani

Crack!

  Sloane

  I shouldn’t be here. I should get back into my car and drive home where I can drown my misery in rum-soaked tiramisu.

  But I can’t seem to convince my feet that they’re going in the wrong direction.

  The frigid cold slithers through me as I walk. It’s been two hours since I left my dad’s house and my family’s Thanksgiving celebration. But I couldn’t eat another bite. I couldn’t make idle chit-chat for another second. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t completely devastated.

  I finally got in touch with Shaye after driving around aimlessly, hoping for Max to respond to all of my texts and calls.

  But the response never came.

  I called the hospital to make sure he hadn’t been admitted.

  I called the police station to see if there had been any accidents in our area.

  Not that he bothered to check in on me.

  So when I finally found out that Max wasn’t laying mangled in some wreck on the side of one of these icy roads and that he was actually at his house…his house, not mine…an unparalleled fury squelched the anxiety and panic that plagued me for the better part of the night. And I found myself sitting in front of his place not ten minutes later, ready to unleash it all.

  For the last goddamn time.

  My heart thuds with each jump I make over the slush puddles covering most of the driveway. He didn’t text me back. He didn’t bother to call. And the fact that his car is sitting here is just another hint that he didn’t care to make the effort.

  The rubber sole of my Ugg boots skids on a patch of black ice and I stumble, grabbing onto the railing before I face-plant in the snow. Anger courses through me as I stomp up the steps. He’s not hurt. He’s not dead along some road somewhere. He’s just a self-centered dickhead who doesn’t give a shit about anything but himself.

  He definitely doesn’t care a bit about me.

  So again, I ask myself why the hell I’m here?

  I know the answer, of course. But it obviously isn’t mutual since he’s here and not at my dad’s house right now.

  I try to steady my breathing before I stab the doorbell. It doesn’t work, and my teeth begin to chatter from the cold and the rage that grabbed hold of my body when I pulled up a minute ago and found Max’s car taunting me from the driveway.

  He doesn’t care about me at all.

  I press the doorbell, my fingertip borderline numb right now. I could actually poke his eyes out and not feel anything.

  The door finally opens, and Max steps back, waving me inside. I clench my fists. Why does he have to be so goddamned sexy, standing around in low-slung jeans? Shirtless? Good God, those abs look airbrushed—

  Argh, focus, Sloane!

  He looks at me with those deep dark eyes…the ones that remind me of melted chocolate, the ones I could blissfully float away in if I allowed myself to be that stupid girl yet again. “Happy Thanks—”

  “Fuck you!” I scream. “I thought you were in some horrible accident! I texted you, oh, I don’t know, maybe twenty times in the past couple of hours? And you couldn’t take a second to just text me back once?” I swallow hard, blinking back tears. “I made everyone wait for you. I didn’t want to start dessert without you. But you didn’t care that you made me wait, did you? You never care about anything except you!”

  “Is everything okay?”

  My head darts away from Max, and I see her coming out of his bedroom…knockout brunette, huge boobs so perky they’re practically defying gravity by sitting on her throat, and long, lean legs I’d give my right arm for.

  I am such an idiot.

  “Layla, I told you to stay back there,” Max grumbles, tugging at his hair, his gorgeous messed up, sexed-up hair. I flex my fingers. Not so numb anymore. Whatever. They’re so ready to gouge out his eyeballs right now.

  I force a high-pitched laugh. “Don’t be silly, Max. Why should she stay hidden? At least someone has the courtesy to let me know where I rate. Note to self, I’m way below the trashy whore.” I turn back to the girl whose lips are pursed. “Thank you for being so clear with me. I guess I had a difficult time figuring it out on my own. Shame on me for being incredibly dense.”

  I blink back the tears. This is ridiculous. I’m about to lose it over something I never even had. This doesn’t get more pathetic.

  “Sloane, it’s not what you think. Layla just needed my help tonight, and she didn’t want to be alone afterward.”

  “I’m sure you made her feel very comfortable here, Max. So comfortable that she figured she’d throw on your AC/DC t-shirt.” The t-shirt I gave you for your birthday, you asshole!

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make it tonight, but it’s not because I didn’t want to be there with you,” he murmurs, reaching out to me. “I just had to take care of something. I didn’t have a choice.”

  I recoil, my eyes flickering in Layla’s direction. She fires a glare at me and then at Max, arms folded over her chest, making her boobs inch closer to her chin. “Yeah, you did, Max. And you made it. Now I’m making a choice to never bother with you again.” I let out a shaky breath. “I thought we were friends. But you don’t know the first thing about being a friend. You only know how to hurt feelings and take advantage of people, namely me. I’m tired of it, tired of making myself available to you whenever you want to kill time until some better offer comes along.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

  “Maybe that’s because you never tell me anything! You’ve never been honest with me. What kind of fucked-up friendship is that?” I clench my fists and slam them against my legs. “Is it because I’m not part of that top secret ‘life’ of yours? Is that why I don’t rate? Is it the reason why I’m only good enough to be a video game partner but not your girlfriend?”

  Oh, shit. That wasn’t supposed to slip out…

  I press my hands to my temples, a hot flush creeping up my neck. This can’t possibly get any worse, right?

  “I don’t deserve to have you in my life.” Max’s expression darkens. “You can’t count on me, Sloane. You never could.”

  “At least we agree on that.” My stomach rolls, and if I stand here for another second, I think I might just spew tiramisu all over the front door. I spin on my heel, gripping the railing on the side of the stairs, desperate to get the hell away from here…from him…from them.

  “I never meant to hurt you.” His voice. Dammit, as cold as it is outside, that low, gravelly rumbling sound never fails to quake my insides and melt them just as quickly.

  I turn back around one last time. “You’re a fucking asshole, Max. And, just so we’re clear, I meant for that to hurt you.”

  Max

  “Why the fuck do I even bother with you?” Nico barrels into my front hall and pokes a finger at my chest. My spine stiffens. “You should have called me, you asshole! How could you think that going in there by yourself was a good move?”

  I swing a hand at his finger, knocking it away. “Layla was in trouble. I did what I had to do.”

  “Really.” Nico narrows his eyes at me. “Because the way I see it, if you’d have done what you had to do, Gabe might still be alive right now instead of lying in your fucking trunk with half his head blown off!”

  “I didn’t ask him to come,” I grumble, my chest tight. The guilt eats away at my insides. This was my play, my move to get back some of the respect I lost. Helping Nico plug Cappodamo last year helped, but I needed to do something on my own. So, great. I saved Layla, but at what cost? “I didn’t need anyone’s help!”

  “You’re never going to get the respect from this family if you keep doing stupid reckless shit like this. Bonnaro can’t touch us. He has nothing now that Cappodamo is dead.”

  “Don’t you get it? That’s what makes him such a crazy motherfucker! You know how Cappodamo worked. He wanted to put us out of business so he could take over our drug territories. The Salesi family was a threat to him, and he knew it! Mikey was
about to move up in that family, and we stole that away from him. He’s not gonna stop until he gets his payback, Nico.”

  “Then the head of the Salesi family should make the call about how to handle unrest. Not fucking you! My father will put you through a wall when he finds out!”

  “You know what?” I grit my teeth, pushing my chest against Nico’s. “Layla is safe. That’s the important thing. If I’d have told you, you would have drawn the whole thing out to next week, and she’d probably be floating somewhere in the East fucking River by the time you actually made a move!”

  Nico shoves me backward, and I leap at him, grabbing the sides of his jacket. “Don’t you lay another finger on me, Nico. I did what I thought was right. I owe her father.”

  “You should think twice about who you should be loyal to, Max.”

  “Antonio was the only one who gave me a job that didn’t require me to fire a fucking gun!”

  “Yeah, until he needed you to collect his bets for him! Why do you think he wanted to take you on as a partner? He knew you’d get his fucking money so he wouldn’t have to!”

  I take a sharp breath. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” Nico fixes his jacket and narrows his eyes. “Did you really think you were going to be one of the guys sitting at the head table? Sure, he may have roped you in with that promise, but don’t fucking think for a second that he wasn’t going to put you on the streets as his collector. He was a fucking slimy piece of shit who never wanted to get his hands dirty. He used you, Max. So stop fucking telling me that you owe him, especially now that he’s dead! It’s goddamn insulting, especially since I gave you a job at my club to help you get back on your feet after all that shit went down with Rocco. Then you fucking spit in my face with this shit!”

  Adrenaline courses through my veins, my breathing labored because my pulse is throbbing so hard against my damn throat. One punch…just one…

  Christ, I feel like a crack addict looking for my next fix. My fists clench tight, still stuck to my sides. Blood rushes between my temples, drowning out the protests my mind is screaming. Don’t do it, Max. Keep fighting. You’ll never go anywhere if you keep giving in to it. You’ll never get what you want. Rage bubbles under my skin. I fight it…I’m always fighting…but the urge is so fucking strong. It’s the only way I can grab back control, the only way I can mute the voices that torment me every day.

  Nico’s lips stretch into a straight line. “You wanna do it. It’s written all over your face. Just take the fucking punch, Max. Get me right in the fucking jaw! That’s what you’re good at! Fucking do it!”

  Sloane

  “I know you’re still upset about that whole thing with Max. Believe me, I’m furious too.” My best friend Shaye twists her ponytail around her finger. “But you can’t let that stop you from coming. Please? It’s been weeks since everything happened. Besides, I didn’t get to party with you on your twenty-first birthday because you’re two years older! This will be the first time we can really celebrate together!”

  “You know I’ve been working doubles all week, right? Besides, I took you out for your birthday, and we had wine. That counts as a celebration.” I poke around at the wires in one of the curtained-off areas in the Emergency Room at Holy Name Hospital where I work as a trauma nurse. What started out as a place to get experience turned into my home away from home, and now I can’t even think about leaving to go to another hospital because I love it so much. “This party is for Nico’s crowd, and I don’t really feel comfortable around them. The guys are dirtbags with nice cars and clothes, and the girls are super slutty and bitchy.” I snicker. “Except you, of course.”

  Shaye huffs and folds her arms over her chest as I reattach some of the wires to the respirator in the makeshift room and pick up the stack of patient charts I’d set on the foot of the bed.

  “I know they’re not the easiest group to mingle with, but you’ll have me! I am asking you to come because I miss you! You’ve been working crazy hours, and you need a break. And maybe a shower too,” she says, pointing at the messy and greasy bun sitting on top of my head.

  I roll my eyes and hug the charts to my chest before leaving the room and heading to the nurses’ station down the hall. It’s unusually quiet for a Sunday morning. Last night must have been pretty uneventful. The waiting room is usually filled with local, college-aged kids who enjoyed their Saturday nights a little too much, but save for the couple of co-eds who needed their stomachs pumped because they downed a few too many Alabama Slammers, it’s been an easy shift for me. I slide the charts into their respective slots and pick up a couple of new cases to be triaged with Shaye still hot on my heels. I glance at my watch. I also have a meeting with one of the hospital administrators to discuss some plans for the charity I run, The Buddy System. The program pairs up kids suffering from cancer with ‘buddies’ who come visit them and basically hold their hands through the treatment and recovery process. It gives the kids hope, peace, and something to look forward to during a really dark time for them. It’s been a massive success since we implemented it, and I hope I’ll get some money from the hospital to grow the program even more this year.

  “You’re not listening to me,” she whines.

  “You’re right.” I wink at her. “And thank you very much for noticing my hair. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Sloane,” she grabs my wrist. “Please come with us. I promise I’m not trying to set you up with anyone. I just want to spend time with you.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Really.”

  Shaye lets out a deep sigh, averting her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my brother. Nico laid into him pretty hard that night, and—”

  “What does Nico care?” I furrow my brow. “Max stood me up.”

  “Oh, well, yeah, but it was still wrong…” She nibbles one of her fingernails.

  “I didn’t realize Nico was such a big fan of mine.”

  Shaye shrugs, still staring at her nail polish. “I think everyone wants to see Max settle down.”

  A tiny pang jolts my heart. A couple of months ago, I thought maybe there was a shot, maybe his feelings about me had changed…

  My spine stiffens and I let out a deep breath. “We were just friends. It was never going to happen for us. Max is a great guy. He just doesn’t seem to have room in his life for anyone but himself.” There. That was diplomatic, right?

  Although, if I really wanted to be honest, I’d have chosen one of the other comments flying through my mind at this moment. Because even though we were friends, I’d wanted more…so much more that he clearly was incapable of giving.

  Max is a complete, self-centered prick, and I hope his dick shrivels up and falls off when he’s trying to ram some whorey girl who is too stupid to realize he doesn’t even know her name because he was too busy on his phone to listen when she said it the first fifty times he asked!

  Hmm, bitter much, Sloane?

  I decide against shouting my real feelings about Max to Shaye since it’s not her fault he’s such a douchebag. I’m a big girl, and I’m done with giving said douchebag any more opportunities to blow me off.

  I flash a sweet smile at my best friend, lowering my voice. “I love you and Nico. But Max can go and fuck himself.”

  Shaye snickers. “How about if I tell him not to come? I’d rather hang out with you anyway. He’s been so edgy these days. Definitely not his usual ultra-charming self.”

  If that isn’t the laugh of the century. Max is the polar opposite of what you’d consider a charmer, and yet, here I am, still weak in the knees recalling our last encounter…that body, those eyes…

  I grit my teeth. What he said doesn’t matter. It’s what he did…with that trampy whore.

  That’s why I refuse to get caught up in his sexy and smoldering trap ever again.

  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…well, we know how that goes.

  But what happens when it’s the
third time? Whose fault is it then?

  Max

  I push open the door of the Toyota Prius, say goodbye to my Uber driver, and step onto the sidewalk in front of Culaccino, Nico’s private club. Tonight, the underground sex den is closed to the public in celebration of my sister Shaye’s twenty-first birthday.

  Drinks. I need many.

  It’s been two weeks since Thanksgiving night, and the memory is still as vivid as if I was staring at Gabe’s body right now.

  Senseless. Fucking senseless.

  The guy was young, enthusiastic, always willing to help, and funny as hell. The loss plagues me every damn day. Knowing I let him die makes me even more determined to find out what the fuck Mikey is up to, because it sure as shit ain’t knocking over trucks and stealing hot Chanel sunglasses and Louis Vuitton purses to sell for a quick buck.

  He’s a ruthless fuck who only cares about money. He’d do anything Cappodamo needed, and now that Cap is gone, he’s trying to figure out how the hell to keep his control since that family pretty much imploded this past year. It’s what happens when all the bosses are taken out…thanks to us.

  He’s trying to flex his dick now, and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And what he wants is to destroy us.

  “Max, how many times am I going to have to bail you out before someone puts a bullet in your goddamned skull?”

  I let out a sigh. “Grandpa Vito, I was only trying to—”

  “Stop.” Vito Salesi, the patriarch of the family, frowns at me. “If you want to move up in this organization, you need to find a way to beat that anger. I know it’s always there, but it’s going to get you killed if you don’t watch your step.” He walks around his desk and sits on the edge of it. Christ, I hate disappointing Nico’s grandfather, a man who’s been more of a father figure to me than my own deadbeat dad. “You have to control it, or you’ll end up in some dumpster somewhere. I won’t be around forever to save your ass, you hear me?”

  Yeah, I heard him. I hear him repeat those words pretty damn often, actually.