Betraying the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 3)

by Kristen Luciani

“I guess he told you about our parents.”

  “A little, but I didn’t ask any questions. He’s got you, and he thinks you’re pretty fucking awesome.”

  “I do the best I can. But he seems to like you, which is pretty odd since he hasn’t really opened up to anyone since he got here. Everyone kind of avoids him now, so I try to be here as much as possible so he’s not alone. But, ah, I’ve got some things going this week, and I’m not gonna be here as much as I want.” He averts his eyes for a second and then looks back at me. “If you want to stop by and keep him company, I think he’d like that.”

  “I can do that. And I won’t bring any more candy.” I smirk and hold out my hand. “I’m Max, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Max.” Tommy grins and shakes it. “And if you see your hot nurse friend Sloane, tell her to come by so we can thank her for sending you.”

  “Will do,” I reply in a strained voice. I’m gonna have to let him know that my hot nurse friend Sloane isn’t up for grabs by anyone but me. I watch Tommy walk back to Eli’s room, but this time, he doesn’t close the door. He leaves it open. Interesting. Maybe they’re finally ready to open up a little.

  Because of me.

  Fucking A. Who’d have guessed that I’d ever be the voice of reason?

  Sloane

  Ping!

  I jump about ten feet into the air when I hear an incoming text. I glance at the clock on my nightstand and peer at my reflection in the mirror before grabbing my phone. My hair falls around my face in loose waves and my makeup is flawless thanks to Shaye’s heavy hand. It’s way more than I’d ever agree to wear…ever…but tonight is a really special night and I want to look perfect. I even let her put on fake eyelashes which feel hella weird on my eyes, but wow, do they pop.

  I feel like a princess, and I can’t wait to see my handsome prince.

  I swipe my finger across the screen to see what Jules sent and my eyes widen as an image of my dark prince fills the screen. He stands out like a sore thumb in the hallway of flowers.

  Her caption?

  Sex on a stick showed up today, and damn I wanna lick him up and down.

  I bite my lower lip. Sex on a stick indeed. But why was he even there? I type a quick reply.

  Did he visit any of the kids?

  A second passes. Eli. I think I’m gonna have to find an excuse to spend more time with him even though he’s a little prick.

  I roll my eyes. Come on, he’s not a prick. You have the worst bedside manner ever.

  You’d better believe it’s gonna change real quick if that guy keeps showing up!

  I snicker and toss the phone on my bed. I’ll just tell her later. I want to see the look on her face when I show up with him to the benefit.

  I open my closet and pull out a form-fitting red dress. The color matches my lipstick perfectly and compliments my dark hair. Nude heels complete my look, and I douse myself with some perfume before leaving my room to wait for my chariot to arrive in the form of Max’s Ford Raptor.

  I can’t walk very fast in these heels. The tips of my feet already feel pinched. How am I going to last for hours wearing them? How the heck does anyone? Shoes like these need to come with a surgeon general’s warning, for Pete’s sake.

  I move gingerly, hoping that if I don’t clip clop on the floor, my toes won’t burn so much. I eye my black flats and hear Shaye’s voice berating me in my head.

  Don’t even think about it. They are the antithesis of glamour, and I didn’t work on your face for hours so you could kick off those heels and destroy your look with flats!

  She’s right. She did work hard on my face.

  A little pain is good for the soul, right?

  I practice walking up and down my hallway and forget about my burning toes when I hear a knock at the door. Clack, clack, clack go my heels against the hardwood floor, the smile spreading across my face in anticipation of seeing Max in a tux. Just the thought makes me think about tearing him out of it later…

  I yank open the door, ready to fling myself into his arms when I recoil. “Daddy! What are you doing here?”

  My father shifts on the stoop, dressed in a navy blue suit. “You didn’t think I’d miss your big night, did you?”

  “I’m so glad you decided to come.” Tears fill my eyes as I wrap my arms around him. “You’re the best dad in the world, do you know that?”

  He squeezes me tight. “Your mom would have been so proud of you,” he says in a gruff voice. “All of the work you’ve done in her memory. She’d have loved it.”

  “It makes me feel closer to her, you know?” I whisper, blinking fast to keep the tears in check. “Come on in. Max should be here any minute.”

  He visibly bristles when I mention Max’s name and my brow furrows. “I’ll take my own car.”

  I fold my arms. “Daddy, what’s the problem with Max? You’ve known him forever. Why are you so opposed to me spending time with him?”

  My dad paces the floor, running a hand over his bald head. “Sloane, he’s not good for you. He can’t give you the kind of life you deserve. Why can’t you just find a nice, stable doctor at the hospital?”

  The corners of my lips curl upward. “You don’t think Max is stable?”

  Dad frowns at me. “He’s a loose cannon. He was always a troublemaker as a kid, and now he’s on to bigger things. Worse things. Things that you shouldn’t be around.”

  “Dad, he’s grown up. He’s not the same kid you remember.”

  “Yeah, now he’s an adult. Still an asshole.”

  I put my hands on his shoulders and look at him. “He’s a good guy, Daddy. You have to trust my judgment, okay? Besides, I…” I look down at my shoes. “I really care about him. He won’t hurt me.”

  “Again, you mean?” My dad cocks an eyebrow.

  My shoulders droop. “Things didn’t work out before. And I’m not a hundred percent sure they’ll work out this time, but I want to try. I’m not naïve, Daddy. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about him and what he does, but should I hold that against him? He makes me really happy, so should I just forget all of the good things and just focus on the bad stuff that I can’t even confirm, by the way? Isn’t it possible that he can change?”

  My father’s face twists into a grimace. “Maybe. But his isn’t the kind of life you can just walk away from. There are rules, Sloane. And you can’t pick and choose which ones you want to follow.”

  A shiver runs through me.

  The code. It’s written all over his body.

  But I can’t read it. I don’t know what it says. I have to trust him for that.

  “I know,” I murmur, glancing at the clock on the end table. Max should be here any minute, and I really don’t want him to walk into this conversation. This is supposed to be a perfect night, and bad blood between him and my dad will turn it into a nightmare.

  “You know, but yet you’re still moving forward with this whole thing.”

  “Dad, I’m a big girl. I can’t hold his choices against him if he’s trying to put the past where it belongs. How would that be fair to him? Or to me?”

  “That’s just the thing, Sloane. Guys like Max can never really escape their past. Things always come back to haunt them. And no matter what he tells you, he’ll always show up for the fight.”

  Max

  I step out of the flower shop a few blocks from Sloane’s place and stare at the bunch of star gazer lilies in my hand. I had to ask Shaye what kind of flowers Sloane likes, and now I’m clutching a bundle of them. They’re different, classic, not the usual.

  I’m not surprised they’re her favorite. There’s nothing typical about Sloane Camarena.

  I look up and down the street. The sky is already dark, which I really hate. It sucks to be plunged in to darkness at four-thirty in the afternoon. Thanks, Daylight Savings Time.

  There aren’t any cars around either. This shop is nestled into a wooded corner, and it’s surrounded by trees and bushes, so sometimes, I think pe
ople pass it right by without even knowing it’s there. But I happen to know it’s Sloane’s favorite shop…another tidbit I picked up from Shaye…so I’m going to make sure I visit the place often.

  As long as I can hold myself together and make her see that I’m in this for real.

  A gust of wind rushes over me and I pull the edges of my tuxedo jacket together to brace me from the cold. I walk down around the side of the shop to where I parked my car, avoiding puddles of slush that are now iced over. I’d like to not land on my ass, but these damn shoes are slippery as hell.

  My foot catches a patch of black ice and skids out in front of me, but I grab the side of a tree trunk to balance myself. “Fuck,” I mutter, sidestepping the ice and continuing on my way. I finally make it to the clearing in the back and see another car parked next to mine. Weird. There wasn’t anyone else in the shop. And it doesn’t seem like the owner would drive a blacked-out Ford F-150.

  Instinctively, my hand slides under my jacket and over the waistband where my gun normally sits, but tonight, there’s just fabric. No metal against my skin.

  Because why in the fuck would I need a gun at a hospital benefit?

  Tiny hairs prickle on the back of my neck. Snowflakes begin to fall, and I pick up the pace since I left my coat in the car. Chills slither through my insides with each step I take closer to my truck. My eyes shift left and right and every few seconds, I make a sharp twist backward to make sure nobody is lurking behind me. I jog the last few feet, pulling out my keys from my pants pocket and click to unlock the doors. I keep my head down and grip the driver’s side door handle, pulling it open.

  “Ahh!” I jump backward, falling to my knees, my breath completely knocked out. “What the fuck!”

  Jesus Christ. I rub my eyes and peer inside. It’s dim, but not completely black. I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Two fucking severed, bloody fingers sit in the driver’s seat of my truck.

  Whose fucking fingers are they?

  My pulse throbs in my throat, and I fumble around in my pocket for my phone. I have to call Nico. Or Rocco. Or fucking someone.

  A loud creak behind me sends me flying against the door, and I spin around to see Mikey Bonnaro jump out of the F-150 next to me. His feet land on the concrete with a thud and he doubles over in laughter. My blood boils, coursing through my veins like liquid flames. Just seeing that dipshit smirk of his makes me want to shoot it right off his ugly ass face.

  “Maximo! I didn’t know a little blood would make you scream like such a bitch! Christ, I’m glad we went with the fingers instead of the whole head! You might’ve had a fucking heart attack and dropped dead on the spot! And that would’ve ruined all the fun.”

  I straighten up, trying to catch my breath and shove him backward against his truck. “Whose fucking fingers are these, you asshole?”

  He inches toward me, a sick, sinister smile toying with the corners of his lips. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise, Max. I’m sure it’ll make much more of an impact when you find out for yourself.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I have to say, I’m kinda surprised at your reaction, considering you’ve sawed off more than just a few fingers before. I’d have thought you had a stronger stomach. But then again, I guess sitting around behind a desk at some strip mall construction site will make those memories fade away.” He leans closer. “Yeah, that kind of work makes the killer instinct soft, just like a limp cock, you know what I’m sayin’?”

  I swallow hard, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me who the fuck you did this to.”

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to make any demands, Oriani.” Three other doors of the truck pop open, and a few more enormous and tattooed guys with nose rings, eye rings, and other metal parts poking out of their faces, ears, and necks jump onto the ground, surrounding me. I hear a lot of grunting, but no actual words are formed.

  Mikey musta gotten these guys pretty cheap.

  I eye them all, knowing that I could easily get my ass kicked to China and back in seconds, but Christ, what a fucking bunch of circus freaks. “Fuck you, Mikey. Tell me now!”

  Mikey’s eyes take on a rabid look, one that chills me way more than the frigid air since I’ve seen it before and know exactly what comes next. Like a crazed animal, he pounces on me. He launches a fist at my jaw, and I swing away from it, but he manages to follow it up with a shot to my midsection that has me doubled-over, clenching my teeth because I feel like he punched a hole through my lung and it fucking hurts.

  “You don’t ask me questions, dickhead,” he hisses, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. “And if by some miracle, you manage to knock me and the rest of my guys out, how will you find out whose fingers they are, huh? So typical of you, Oriani. Always ready to throw punches, never thinking about the consequences.”

  I shrug out of his grip but only because he wants me to. He may plan to pound me into oblivion, but he’s not out to kill me.

  Not tonight, anyway.

  If he wanted me dead, I’d already be face-down on the cracked, wet concrete.

  I raise my fists to my face, creeping toward him. I’m not fucking going down easy, that’s for shit sure. The group of goons eye me, circling around my truck like predators, daring me to throw down with Mikey so they can tear me apart, limb by limb.

  But Mikey just chuckles. He doesn’t even pull a gun on me. He doesn’t need to. He knows I’m not armed, and he also knows I want information…information only he can deliver. He narrows his eyes. “I told you not too long ago that I was back to take my rightful place, Oriani. You and your father fucked shit up for me and my brother, and now it’s time to take what’s ours.” He chuckles. “I’m thinkin’ that when all is said and done, you’re gonna wish you had stabbed Gianni with that fork after all.”

  My eyes widen. Fuck!

  “Whose fucking fingers are these, Mikey?” I yell. My head is spinning like a top and I can’t stop it. I’m scared shitless of what else I’m gonna find when he finally gives me the location I want, and I can’t for the life of me figure out his plan. If he’s not killing me, then…oh, Christ…

  “I can see the light,” Mikey hisses. “It’s fucking dim, but at least it’s on. You’re getting there, aren’t you? You have an idea of who you’re gonna find, but you don’t know where to look. And you don’t know what’s coming next, either. That pisses you off more than anything.” Mikey leans back against his truck. “The thing is, if you were just a little smarter, you’d already be where you need to be. But let’s face it. Your fists were always more powerful than your brain. That’s why you’re still up Nico’s ass, trying to figure out how to do shit on your own. Nobody trusts you with anything big. In fact, I’ll bet your pal Nico knows a hell of a lot more than he’s telling you. Know why? He’s a smart guy. He can figure shit out pretty quick. Remember that night at the construction site? The scene you made, trying to prove to your piss ant crew that you’re not a fucking pussy? That was nothing, bitch. That was just a warning.” His smirk deepens. “You still haven’t connected those dots, have you? Well, guess what, dipshit? I bet your pal Nico has. And is it really so surprising he hasn’t told you what’s about to happen? It’s not like you can stop it anyway. Not like any of you assholes can stop it.”

  I swing back my arm and crush my fist against Mikey’s eye. “Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again!”

  He stumbles back against the car, holding a hand to his now-bloody eye. But the bastard still doesn’t stop smiling. “Did that make you feel better? Like more of a man, you know, the way you used to be before they slapped a fucking vagina in place of your dick!”

  A deep roar emerges from my throat, and I leap on top of him, pounding my fists against him—his face, his chest, any target close enough for attack. Lucky for him, I’m only able to land a few good punches before his goons pull me off of him and throw me on the ground. I kick my legs around before they take me down to the pavement and manage to knock out a few teeth along the way.
I cover my head, trying to protect my face and throat, but it doesn’t matter. There’s too much exposed, and I don’t even wanna think about how busted up my insides will be when Mikey finally calls them off of me.

  After a few seconds, he shocks the shit out of me and yells at them to stop…just like I did when my guys were beating the fuck out of his errand boy at the job site that night. Don’t kill the messenger…yet. He serves a purpose. Once he does what we want, then we’ll gut him.

  I know the drill. Been there, done that, got the fucking t-shirt.

  Mikey bends down to where I lay, clutching my side and assessing my injuries. One of my eyes is almost swollen shut, and I’m pretty sure I have at least one cracked rib. Since I can still breathe, it probably hasn’t punctured a lung.

  I’d say I fared pretty damn well considering the pack of thugs that was using me as a crash test dummy for their fists a few minutes ago.

  He ruffles my slicked-back hair and snickers, the cocksucker that he is. “Sorry to mess up your outfit. And you looked so pretty, too.”

  I shove him away with one hand, but he only laughs. “This is fucking great, Max. I almost feel like we’re getting close to being even. I just need to fuck your shit up a few thousand more times. Wait for it because it’s coming. Fast.”

  Blood pools in my mouth, and I spit it at his feet. “Give me what I asked for!”

  “And then what? Are you gonna swoop in to save the day? You’re such a fucking Boy Scout now, huh? Always trying to do the right thing, always trying to save someone from their fate. But you couldn’t save Gabe, could you? Someone always ends up getting shanked on your watch.” He fists my hair, his lips right against my ear. “Who’s it gonna be this time? Wanna take a stab at it?” He lets out a sinister chuckle and shoves my head backward, my back slamming against the frozen concrete. “Whose blood will be on your hands tonight, Max?”

  You don’t want to miss the ending to this story!

  Click here to preorder Slaying the Mob, Book Two of the Max & Sloane Duet, on Amazon now!