Tipping Point

by Ali Parker

  “I know. I can handle myself. I need to keep pushing forward. Parker deserves more than a sister who gives up as soon as things get a little sticky.”

  “You’ve already done enough for your brother. Besides, he put himself in the fire. He never should have gotten involved with these gangsters, let alone take two million dollars from them and not even spend it. What idiot gets himself killed over something like that?”

  “My brother did,” I said. “And I’m so close to figuring this shit out, I can practically taste it. Just give me a bit more time. A week, maybe two. The family is falling apart from the inside out, and it’s only a matter of time before someone lets something slip that they shouldn’t. I’m exactly where I need to be.”

  Mike’s cheeks puffed out as he sighed dramatically. “All right, Julie. Just don’t do anything fucking stupid, all right? It’s easy to get in over your head when family is involved. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re like a little sister to me.”

  I grinned and shook my head. “Don’t be such a softie, Mike.”

  After finishing up my afternoon meeting with Mike, I drove down to Parker’s apartment. The door was still sealed off with caution tape, despite the investigation being long over.

  My brother’s charred remains had been found in a room at the Moonlight Hotel with a bullet hole in his skull. His apartment had never been the scene of any crime, but the detectives had scoured the place several times to make sure they weren’t missing any important clues. I had done the same.

  Dozens of times.

  I let myself in with the key my brother had given to me years ago and slipped inside. It smelled musky from being sealed up for so long. The beginning of warm spring weather wasn’t helping. I walked around the living room and cracked some windows before beginning to rummage through cabinets and drawers.

  Maybe Parker had spent the two million dollars he was given. Maybe somewhere in his messy apartment, there would be a clue as to what he had done with so much cash.

  I wasn’t all that hopeful, as I’d looked through the place so many times, but I needed to look again for peace of mind.

  By the time I made it to his bedroom, I was angry. Really angry.

  This is what happened to me every single time.

  The smells and his socks littered around the place made his death feel all too recent. I wasn’t able to compartmentalize and block that shit out when I was rummaging through his things.

  Not only did I miss him and hate what had happened to him, but I felt like I was betraying him.

  I was betraying him by falling for the fucking enemy.

  Marcus Blaine had me wrapped around his pinky finger. All he had to do was say my name and I was his.

  Not only that, but my heart had a soft spot for Edward. His gentleness and genuine sweetness toward me had been something I hadn’t experienced since before going undercover to work for Madame Giselle.

  Both men were polar opposites of one another, and my heart longed for both of them. So did my body.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, driving the toe of my boot into the frame of Parker’s bed.

  Something came loose. I heard it fall and land somewhere within the frame under the mattress.

  I froze. It couldn’t be. After all this time, had there been something hiding right under my damn nose?

  I lifted the bottom corner of the mattress and rested it on my shoulder as I bent down to slip my arm down the opening between the bedpost and the frame. My fingers touched something plastic. I grabbed it and lifted it out to find myself holding an old flip phone.

  A burner phone, I was sure.

  I flipped it open and powered it on.

  My mouth was dry, and my heart was pounding. I prayed for answers. I needed new information. Anything would do at this point. Just something to help me put the remaining pieces of my brother’s murder together.

  “Come on,” I growled, tapping my foot impatiently as the logo loaded on the screen.

  When it was finally powered on, I went directly into the text messages. There was only one conversation. I opened it up. The first message made my stomach flip over with nerves.

  “1.9M to Thomas Kallup to get involved. 100K to you, kid. Thanks for the help. Keep the phone. I might need you again.”

  I didn’t recognize the number. It could be anyone. I moved my thumb to hover over the green call button.

  Was it reckless to call the number? If they recognized the number I was calling from as Parker’s phone, I might be getting myself into some hot water.

  On the other hand, it might scare them enough to make a mistake. Mistakes were good. It was how criminals got caught.

  I hit the button and lifted the phone to my ear. After three agonizing rings, a sweet female voice answered the phone. She had a thick Spanish accent and she sounded very familiar.

  “Castaletta residence.”

  Who was that? The maid? What was her name? Maria?

  I swallowed. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t risk her hearing my voice.

  “Hello?” The maid asked. “Who is this?”

  I hung up the phone in a panic and powered it off. Then, in a total scramble, I used the hem of my shirt to rub off any potential fingerprints. I bent down to lift the mattress again and slipped the phone back into the place where I had found it. I dropped the mattress and took a few steps back, pressing my hands to my forehead.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed.

  So my brother had been more involved than even I knew. The call confirmed several things.

  I had to assume Marco had hired Parker to get the Kallups involved, which meant my brother had played a role in the deaths of Vivian and Freddy Castaletta. No wonder he’d gotten himself killed. Stupid kid. He had no idea how big of a shit show this would all turn into.

  “Fucking tapes. If I just would have listened to the fucking things first.” I growled under my breath at the thought that someone had stolen them from my damn car while I slept at Marcus’s place. Probably Marcus.

  Marco had to have betrayed Joe Castaletta and used my brother as a scapegoat. Bastard. All of my years in the FBI, and that was the only answer that made sense. My brother was the errand boy for a big deal with the Kallups. Almost two million dollars to bring the trashy Kallups into the mix and fry everyone’s brains while Marco tore down the Castaletta palace one body at a time.

  But why?

  Grabbing my purse from where I had left it on the sofa in the living room, I slung it over my shoulder as I walked around and closed all the windows. Then I ducked out of the apartment and hurried down to my car.

  One thing was for sure. I needed to calm the fuck down. I wasn’t going to be able to keep my cool in the face of a single Castaletta now that I knew the truth. They’d see right through me, and I couldn’t afford to fuck things up when I was so close to solving my brother’s murder.

  I needed Marcus. I needed his cock, his hands, and whatever he was willing to give me.

  Then I could come back refreshed in the morning and sort this shit out.

  And if I took Marcus down with the rest of them? So fucking be it.

  There were always casualties in war.

  9

  Demetri

  I woke to the sounds of banging pans in my kitchen over half an hour ago but hadn’t found the will to actually get up. Instead, I stayed in bed, running over the events of the previous night in my head.

  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the sound of Izzy’s scream.

  I rolled onto my back and stared up at my ceiling of wooden rafters. My fan was lazily spinning above the bed. The room was wrapped in pleasant darkness; the dark drapes hanging in front of my window above the bed prevented most of the sunlight from getting in, save for the little crack that shone up out of the top above the curtains.

  I knew I needed to get up. There was shit that needed to be done.

  But God damn it, I didn’t want to face anyone.

  My ear was still a swol
len, disgusting mess. Drake had helped me wrap it before I fell into bed and passed out. I could feel my pulse in the wound, but it didn’t hurt as much anymore. Not as much as my heart, anyway.

  I wondered what Izzy was doing. Probably being held by Edward.

  I’d practically chased her right into his fucking arms.

  “Goddamn it,” I mumbled and ran my hand down my stomach to cup myself. I needed to be the one holding her, fucking her, making her life whatever I could make it. Me denying that I loved her with every cell in my body wasn’t doing either one of us a favor.

  A knock on my bedroom door had me jerking my hand off my half-erect cock. I sat up, groaning with self loathing, and padded barefoot to the door in nothing but my boxers. I yanked it open and had to look down at the short, curvy, dark-haired girl in front of me.

  Sicily, Drake’s new wife, was staring at me. The tiny little dark-haired woman had more energy and umph in her step than I’d seen in anyone in a long time. She was perfect for my brother.

  “Uh,” she said shyly as her cheeks started to burn. She tore her eyes away from my stomach, chest, and the swell beneath the thin fabric of my boxers and held up a plate of cookies to me. “I baked these.”

  The smell of the cookies wafted up to my nose. “They smell amazing.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed together as I took the plate from her. She clasped her hands in front of her. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I just… I wanted to thank you for letting Drake and I stay, and the best way I know how to do that is through baking goodies.”

  I forced a smile. “A wise woman. I bet my brother will soon be pudgy again, thanks to you.”

  “No. He refuses to eat most of the stuff I cook.” She laughed and took her time looking me in the eye. “How is your ear?”

  “Better.”

  “If you’d like, I can take a look at it later. Make sure there’s no risk for infection or anything like that.”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little self over it,” I said, leaning sideways to place the plate of cookies on top of my dresser. I leaned up against the doorframe and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Sicily was the epitome of innocence. She hadn’t seen the shit Drake and I had seen—and done. She was a step removed from the violence of our life, and I felt like shit for pulling her right into the thick of it. Drake had worked hard to build a life he deserved, and after getting to know Sicily, I had come to see that she deserved the same thing.

  Happiness. Peace. Love.

  All the things life in the syndicate took away from a person.

  “It’s all right, Sicily. It’s healing up nicely. Come on, let me walk you back to your room. I’ve gotta take a shower and head to the Castaletta mansion.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, stepping back as I joined her in the hall. We walked to the bedroom door of the room I had put her and Drake up in. She faced me again and smiled sweetly. “Thanks.”

  I nodded, and she slipped back inside. When the door opened, I could hear Drake snoring softly.

  The bastard had always liked his lazy mornings if he wasn’t busy trying to rule the world of fitness. Why he’d turned to owning gyms with all of his talents was beyond me. Maybe the desire to stay in shape? I smiled at the remembrance of him pudgy and so damn self-conscious about it.

  I went back to my room and stripped out of my boxers. I started up the shower in my bathroom off my bedroom and stepped under the water.

  My hard-on was still stiff as fuck. Poor Sicily. She’d seen too much of me.

  I’d had dreams about Izzy all night long.

  Izzy with her legs wrapped around me, her tongue in my mouth, her pussy around my cock, and her fingers tightening in my hair as I made her come.

  I gripped my shaft and began working myself over. I needed a release. Izzy may never give herself to me again, and that thought was crippling, but I could hold the memory and the taste of her in my mind for all eternity. If this was all I could ever have of her, then so fucking be it.

  I clenched my teeth and braced myself against the wall of the shower as my muscles tightened and my body prepared to give in. My breath whispered out between my teeth as I closed my eyes and pictured Izzy naked beneath me.

  Her breasts, full and begging to be sucked on. Her long, powerful legs and tanned smooth skin. Her flat stomach, chiseled with a single line from her ribs to her navel. Her pussy, tight and wet and always ready.

  “Fuck,” I grated, my orgasm rolling through me viciously.

  When it passed, I was left feeling emptier than I had when I woke up.

  I pulled up to the mansion just after ten that morning. Timothy was working the front door still, and he gave me a nod in greeting when I got out of the car and pocketed my keys. When I went to pass by him, he held a hand out in front of my chest.

  “Gun policy is back in place,” he said. His tone suggested he was asking my permission more than telling me to give him my gun.

  About fucking time. I smirked and grabbed the pistol tucked into the back of my jeans and handed it over. “All good, Nate. Just doing your job. Nobody wants a repeat of last night.”

  Timothy smiled, relief written plainly across his face. “Go on in. Joe is waiting for you on the patio off the dining room.”

  I cut straight to the back of the house. I could hear Maria humming in the kitchen and knew she was probably hard at work cleaning up after breakfast. I was in no mood for chit chat, so I ducked past the open door and hurried to the back of the house.

  I stepped out through the open doors and emerged on the back patio that overlooked the swimming pool. Birds chirped in the gardens to my left and right, and the shade was disappearing as the sun crept higher.

  Joe sat in one of the patio chairs. His back was to me, and he was looking out across the pool. I took the open chair beside him.

  Neither of us said anything for a while. We sat in comfortable silence until he finally broke it some fifteen minutes after I arrived.

  “Thank you for coming, D.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  Joe chuckled deep in his chest and looked over at me out of the corner of his eyes. “My daughter’s bedroom, perhaps?”

  I broke away from his stare.

  “I’m fucking with you, son.” Joe reached out and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you were here last night. And I’m sorry Izzy nearly fucked up your face. Good thing she missed, hey?”

  “Good thing she chose to miss,” I amended.

  “She is loyal to you and this family. Of course she chose.” Joe lowered his hand from my shoulder and let it rest in his lap. “Last night took a toll on her.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  I nodded, and my heart tightened in my chest. I knew that would be the answer, but I wished it hadn’t been. I wished a lot of things.

  “What the fuck is happening, Don Castaletta?” I asked.

  Joe didn’t look at me as he answered. “Marco must want the power of the Castalettas for the Coopers. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He gave up his position as Underboss to you all those years ago so he could work under the radar. The little shit played me like a fool.”

  “He played all of us.”

  “It is different when you raise a boy and he stabs you in the back,” Joe growled. “He’s not blood, but he was mine. And all this time, he was plotting to ruin me. To ruin us. What he put Izabella through…” Joe shook his head.

  “So what’s our next step?” I asked as I sat up a little straighter. “Find him and kill him? Just tell me what you fucking want, Joe, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “I know you will.”

  “So tell me to go kill him.”

  Joe turned his head lazily to the side to regard me with cool curiosity. “Izzy will go after him, D. There is too much work for you to do here.”

  “You think she can handle that? After Vivian and Freddy, you’re willing to ask her to kill her brother?”

  Jo
e shook his head. “I didn’t ask her.”

  He didn’t need to explain. Izzy had requested to follow through with the hit herself. I should have known. She wouldn’t stop until she could taste vengeance, and the only way she was getting that was when Marco stopped breathing.

  “All right,” I said, running my hand down my face. The stubble along my jaw whispered against my palm. I needed to shave. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to run the syndicate. I need some time to sort through all of this shit. I’m not in a place to be making weighty decisions. You understand?”

  I nodded. He’d just lost half of his family.

  “You’ll run the syndicate, and you’ll prime Drake for me. Let’s get him in a place where he can take over for Marco.”

  “To take over for Marco?” I asked, twisting around in my chair to face the Don more directly. His gaze was calculating as I rested one hand on the arm rest. “He should be the next Castaletta Don. He’s your son. You can still have your own blood ascend to the title.”

  Joe chuckled. “Drake does not see me as his father, and I will not push him into a position he doesn’t want. I already pushed too hard once, and that led me down a dark road. I thought he was dead. I won’t make the same mistake twice. If I want him to stay, it won’t be as Don. That’s your fate, D. Always has been.” Joe reached out and patted my knee. It was more affection than I was used to receiving from him. “You’ll take my position when the time comes, and you’ll run this syndicate until my grandson is grown and ready to take over.”

  Grandson? I lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say the word.

  Joe knew what I was thinking. He chuckled again and got to his feet. He adjusted the jacket he had on and looked down at me knowingly. “Yours and Izzy’s son, I should say.”

  My mind went back to the cemetery, to when Joe had told me to stay the fuck away from his baby girl. He’d reminded me of my role in this syndicate and made it very clear that my priorities and my obligations to the Castaletta name were more important than the burning desire between his daughter and me.