There’s nothing I hate more than working with guys who are shady as hell.
The one in front of me? The shadiest I’m willing to work with.
I know how it seems. Being the leader of an organized crime family myself, I’m not exactly one to talk. However, I have to say, there’s just something about a man who sticks to a moral code.
And, one who doesn’t.
The man I’m waiting for?
He wouldn’t know morals if they bit him in the ass.
Alec hitches his pants up and looks up at the cloudy sky. He rolls his eyes when a muffled clap of thunder rolls towards us. I tug my shirt away from my neck and wonder how long we’ll need to stand around here before I lose my patience.
This is business, and I do not like to get involved with tawdry men.
‘How much longer before you feel the need to hit something?’ Alec grunts.
‘Do not say a word to me, Alec.’
Alec swivels towards me and drags his feet over to the fence. ‘Why do I have a feeling you’re pissed about something entirely different?’
I puff out some air between my tight lips and keep my face turned up to the air that is slowly picking up. I feel it sift through my hair and bend my head gently forward so it sweeps across the back of my neck.
It doesn’t offer me much of a relief.
I blink at the lack of space between us. ‘I have no idea what you mean, and take a step back Alec; you’re not my fucking therapist.’
Alec’s face breaks into a wide grin. ‘You haven’t got a therapist, Xander. And if you did manage to find one, you’d probably need to put a bullet in his ass after one session.’
I laugh because, well, he’s right.
A footstep sounds behind us, and I turn to watch Declan and Knox walk toward us. Declan’s hair is gelled back against his scalp, his suit so stiff I wonder if he has the thing painted against his skin.
‘You’re late,’ I call to the two of them.
‘And yet Mr. Sandro isn’t here.’ He smirks. He doesn’t smile, but Declan’s lips tip up towards his nose like he might’ve in another life. Another reality that wasn’t ours.
Knox is dressed just as badly. Except he’s gone the opposite and is one step away from looking like he’s just stepped out of bed with his latest fling.
I catch him with a harsh look.
‘You could’ve made more of an effort, you know. This is business,” I mutter.
His shoulders move up indifferently. ‘I still look better than all three of you combined.’
With his windblown blonde curls and mother’s green eyes, he’s pretty, and I’ll give him that. He’s the only one among us who takes after her and, by virtue of this, has always been her favorite.
‘I’ll beg to differ on that, Knox. Any less effort, and you’ll look like something the cat dragged in,” Declan breaks in.
‘And I’ll still fare better.’
Ryder clears his throat behind us. ‘Mr. Sandro has been led to the table.’
We all turn together and head towards the room in the tiny house where we have all our business meetings. The place is teeming with our men.
Protection has been drummed tighter with the way things are up in the air at the moment.
We step through the door and walk briskly down the short hallway to the last room. The door has been flung open, and seated in there is Sandro Botticelli. His head wiggles towards the door at our entrance.
‘I’ve been waiting.’
‘You shut the fuck up, Sandro, or you might take a fucking punch to the throat.’
Sandro runs the largest smuggling ring in Chicago, and we need him on our side. But I will punch him if I have to, and I’ll be happy to do it. No one keeps the Amory waiting, not even Sandro Botticelli.
‘Better than watching you gripe all evening.’
I take the chair across from him, and my brothers settle in beside me. At the door, Ryder stands guard, along with who I’m certain is Sandro’s right-hand man.
‘We should get this over with fast. I haven’t got all day,’ I start.
Sandro nods and spreads his hands out, as neither does he. ‘I’ve got the routes mapped out. And the men are ready.’
‘I’m not certain why we don’t go in with our men and sweep up what we can.’ Alec shifts forward on his chair. ‘We’ve got the manpower, certainly the money. It’s a better solution than trying to work our way in or look the other way. They’ll never let anyone in that they can’t do away with.’
Sandro smirks and brings a flask to his lips. I’m certain it’s raw vodka. The man doesn’t drink anything else.
‘They’re not stupid. The Russians know we’re coming for them. They’re not worried. They’re barricaded, and from the news I’ve heard on the fucking grapevine, they’ve got the support of the Cambodians. And that spells doom. It won’t be a fair fight.’
The Cambodians are stealthy and patient. They have a history as violent and colorful as a pirate’s tongue.
The stakes would be considerably higher with them joining the fight. I run my hand over the hilt of the knife in my pocket contemplatively and nod.
‘Can you get us eyes in there?’ Knox asks. He pulls the bottle of whiskey on the table towards himself and pours a shot into one of the tumblers provided. I nod at him, and he prepares one for me.
Sandro shakes his head. ‘With the Russians, maybe. The Cambodians are a whole different story. They don’t play by the same rules. I know a man who knows a man, but that’s the best I can do.’
‘You need a safe route through the streets too. If the Russians start shooting, they’ll get your men too.’ Declan’s face is impassive.
‘Why the fuck else do you think I’m here? Certainly not for you lot,” Sandro growls. He tips the flask to his lips and takes another drink.
Ugh.
This is what I’m talking about when I say that you can be a criminal and have morals.
Sandro has none.
I step in before it gets out of hand. This is our second meeting discussing the Russians, and I’m ready to come to some more final solutions. They’re important, sure, but they’re certainly not the only ones I need to keep a lookout for.
Time to be done with this.
‘We’ll back you up on this. Split the profits fifty percent down the middle,” I announce.
‘Fifty percent? I’m risking my men and my name,’ Sandro’s body nearly bristles with anger suddenly, as though he feels insulted by the very words.
Alec is smiling, as is Declan and Knox. We’ve got him where we need him.
Sandro is a perfect solution to keep the Russians occupied. Enough to buy me time to deal with them on my own, just after the wedding.
The wedding.
It holds a place in my mind, like a chapter. There’s before the wedding, then there’s after. I don’t question why the wedding is suddenly a timeline for all my actions lately, since it’s pretty clear to me where I’m coming from.
The wedding means a woman who has no idea what her insertion into my life is costing.
‘As are we. You will, after all, be hoisting your flag in our name. And our authority will pave the way for your men.’
Sandro licks his lips greedily. Fifty percent suddenly sounds good. He would be making almost double of his regular gain with an affiliation to the Amory name. It’s a sweet deal on both ends. The money is good, sure. But the endorsement of my name?
That’s even better.
Amory is, after all, synonymous with control and authority. It could keep alive and kill just as easily. It had before. It always would.
‘And for how long does this last?’ His beady gaze eyes me.
‘Until we get rid of the Russians,’ Alec replies in my stead.
‘And you aren’t even the Capo. Yet. Can’t wait to see what you do with that position.’ Sandro sucks air between his teeth and shoves his hand through the air towards me. I watch him with a threat in my eyes, then slap my hand into his.
He and his men leave the room, and I pick up my glass finally, hurl the whole drink down my throat, and groan when it burns like fire down my chest.
‘You’re buying time you don’t need,’ Knox says.
‘I’m preventing a war I can’t afford,’ I grunt.
‘Is this about Mel?’ Declan is watching me with a careful appraisal in his steely grey eyes.
‘Why the fuck would this be about her?’ But I don’t meet his eyes either.
Alec’s tone is withering, and he smirks. ‘You’re hedging your bets. Not giving your best. And for once, business wasn’t the first on your mind. Fifty-fifty? When have the Amorys ever done that? You’re selling Sandro to the Russians for a flat fee.’
A twinge of disgust at myself sizzles over me. Scraping my insides raw. I’m back to the man I was while I was with her. Already making her a priority when she’s done nothing herself to prove she’s worth the trouble.
I have to do something to stabilize. ‘He’s a greedy fucker. And he kept me waiting. He’ll survive.’
‘And after the wedding, how bad will this get?’ Knox drags his glass across the table, drawing patterns with his fingers on it.
‘Are you doubting me?’ I question, my voice sleek and dangerous. He’s my brother, but he’s not above the law. And in my father’s absence, I’m the law in this room.
He holds his hands up in the air. ‘Not a shred. Just worried. Last time, things with Mel didn’t exactly go as planned. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she’s nothing like us. How certain are you that she’ll stay put this time?’
Just the thought of her away from me has a growl building in my chest.
‘She doesn’t have a fucking choice. No one ever leaves a mafia marriage. Not without their body in a fucking bag.’
Declan breaks in. ‘And will you be able to put her in it?’
I jerk my chair back suddenly and bang my hands against the table. ‘This conversation is over. No one is discussing my wife’s death before I have her hitched to me in the first place. I’m fucking insulted. Does no one think I can take care of my fucking family?” I’m snarling at this point.
Fuck this. “I’m leaving.’
I nearly jog out of the room, my head on fire, in a daze. I feel rubbery, and Ryder joins me at the door, following quietly like he’s supposed to, unlike my dimwit brothers.
I ignore the greetings of my men on the property, heading over to the meandering stream of water that makes a small lake at the back of the property. I need a moment to myself before heading home.
Ryder takes a stand a few feet away from me, and I let myself sink to the floor, close my eyes, and let my thoughts wander.
The last time with Mel had been a roller coaster ride. We’d fallen in love clear-eyed and young. She’d been like a ray of bold sunshine lighting up and filling the cold, dank places of my heart.
I’d never felt so alive as when she’d been snuggled up to me or when she’d leaned into me when we were with company, seeking my warmth like a plant after light. Or sunk into her, riding wave after wave of pleasure with her wrapped tight like a vice around my cock.
And I’d been just as dead when she’d decided she just wasn’t capable of watching my life as it was turning out to be. As it had been groomed from birth to be. It had been a spiral of drink and women after.
Even worse when she’d left the country with her sister Gianna. I’d done my best to keep track, but she’d seemed to disappear into thin air. And by then, the pressure of taking up after Father had dug in.
The very reason she’d left me had become the only way I could stay sane. That and the fucking feud between our families.
Sedric and Father haven’t always seen eye to eye. In fact, it is much easier to say they hate each other.
And deep inside, I was frozen.
One cold, tender bit at a time, the darkness took over the light she’d planted until I was, again, the monster she had worried I would become.
And now, we are back down to where we had left off. And I don’t know if I want her to thaw me again.
