“Stop fidgeting,” Nico reprimands, tapping my gloved hands. I let go of the sewn edges, settling my hands onto my lap like a scolded eight-year-old little boy again.
“Apologies, Zio.” I lean back in the town car, sinking into the warmed seats and the scent of Nico’s aftershave. Letting the small things ease my discomfort.
Nico coughs, a broken sound that has my heart hurting. He cuts me a glare as I try to help him. “Nervous?”
“To meet my future bride?” I snort, reclining. “No.”
I’m not. I’ve met my future bride, twice now, and both times have been intriguing to say the least.
Will I get the sex kitten from the bar, who hides her sorrow behind a daring smile and a flirtatious attitude? Will I get the intelligent, fierce woman who sees more than most, deducing logic quicker than the smartest men in my outfit?
Will I get to see that spark that flares behind those uncut emeralds? I pray I do.
I pride myself on my control, on my forethought. But Sloane breaks that control, turning me into a transfixed puppy, waiting for her next move, lapping up whatever she’ll give me.
The billboard made me laugh. I expected some kind of rebuttal from Ferguson’s youngest daughter, some kind of spiteful display of her defiance. But to come after my manhood in full view of the public? It was daring, ballsy, and just the tad bit adorable.
A normal man might be turned off by it. Others would have their egos hurt. Not me. If she has the backbone to come after an heir, she’s exactly the kind of woman I need by my side.
“You’re nervous about something. It’s natural.” Nico shifts, resting the cane between his legs. “When I met your zia, I was sweating so badly, I soaked my shirt. Had to change before the dinner.”
I smile fondly. “Mama told me. She thought Zia Maria would eat you for breakfast.”
Nico coughs. “Your mother was a wise woman. She never trusted me with her little sister. Knew who I was, what I was destined to do.” Zio sighs, voice rumbling through him. “We were arranged too, Lex. She didn’t approve. It took some convincing, mind you. As much as she was your zia’s big sister, she eventually became mine as well.” Soft brown eyes, the color of the dirt of our homeland swirl with remorse. The only time I’ve ever seen the emotion in my strong uncle.
Remorse for not being able to save her. To save my baby sister.
I bite down on my tongue to keep the grief away. Now isn’t the time.
“When you marry into a family, that’s in this kind of life…” Nico struggles, searching for the words. I wait, listening intently, watching the scenery pass by. “The marriage is important, Lex. Yes, we need the contract to be honored, but the marriage is important too.”
I make a mental note to promise Nico that no matter what Sloane throws at me, I won’t let her hinder this arrangement. I might not have all the details but it’s important to Nico.
“Most men in this world don’t honor their wives.” He waves it away like a bad smell. “Not with us. Sloane will be your wife, but your partner as well. She’ll be who you look for at the end of bad days and who will want to share things with at the end of good ones.”
“I know, Zio.”
“But above that? You need to understand her family. They’re not too different than ours, yeah? Ace wants Sloane protected and we have to do that if we want the contract—this alliance to be a success.”
“And you think she’ll be safe with us? That I’ll be able to protect her?” I’m to be the next Capo of a large organization in Boston. Sloane will never truly be safe, not from my enemies.
Nico bites his bottom lip, rubbing his jaw. “You’ll need to, piccolo. Otherwise, this whole agreement fails.”
The car pulls up to O’Brien manor and it’s an effort not to gape.
The massive stone estate looks like a castle from the fairytales my zia read to me as a child. Lush thick green boxwood bushes, sprawling red roses on white trellises, with a massive wooden front door. Clearly, it’s reinforced and bullet resistant, the glass thick with the sounds inside muted out here in the night.
Ferguson liked classical architecture, but he knew the risks of this life.
Two soldiers stand by the door, the frame easily twice their size. The thick windows reflects the glow of warmth inside. The air smells crisp out here, not dingy and sour like Boston. A true reprieve from the bustling city.
As we get closer, the door opens and a man in a black jacket walks out. Dark jeans. Black combat boots. Broad shouldered, he’s lean and muscular with an air of death that seems to surround him. Tattoos cut into his neck and knuckles, catching the light behind him.
I know exactly who he is. Killian Linwood.
“Fuck,” Nico curses, stealing a cigarette from his suit jacket. I would have berated him if not for how I’m digging for the same, inhaling the nicotine to calm my nerves.
Killian Linwood is the best hitman in the Northeast, arguably the best period. He has more confirmed kills under his belt and next to no whispers of involvement. He’s more ghost than person, slipping into his target homes or businesses, disposing of the bodies where no one can find them. People all but beg for his services, but only he chooses who he’ll work with.
Ferguson employed him exclusively. How he wrangled such an elusive killer, I’ll never know.
“Nico,” Killian greets, lips quirking into a slight smile as he stops before us.
Smile is a relative term. Whatever this is, reminds me of the grace of a reaper coming to collect a soul.
Instantly, my fingers twitch to pull my gun. We might be on Maeve’s territory, but Killian doesn’t follow anyone’s rules. He’s a cold-blooded killer, unpredictable and dangerous.
“Ah, and the heir apparent.” Killian slips his hands into his pockets. “Come to meet your new bride?”
“I assume you only know about it because Maeve employs you. Just like her father.”
Killian’s almond black, soulless eyes jump from me to Nico and back, calculating something in our faces. “Actually, Maeve doesn’t employ me. She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Unlike Ferguson, Maeve’s killer enough for this clan.”
Is that pride in his voice?
“I’m here to make sure you remember the agreement.” Killian faces my uncle, and I have the sudden urge to jump between them as a shield.
He’s a wildcard and that puts me on high alert whenever he’s near. I can’t control him.
“I remember.” Nico coughs, holding his cane firm, not bothered by the reaper. “I don’t need someone like you reminding me of my business, Linwood.”
“I would never be so bold, Nico.” He winks, but it’s fake. “Just a friendly reminder between two associates. I’ll let you enjoy your meal.”
He doesn’t bother to say goodbye, just turns toward the gravel parking lot behind the home. Before he’s completely out of sight, he looks back at us, narrowing his gaze on me like the heavy caress of a ghoul.
“I don’t think I need to remind you of your goal here, heir.”
I scoff, showing more bravery than I feel. “Or what, Linwood? You’ll come find me?” How does he know about the contract if he isn’t involved?
That smile again flashes, dipped in poison. “I won’t have to. Maeve will.”
As he disappears, Nico inhales sharply from the butt of his cigarette.
“Let me give you some advice, Lex,” Zio begins, chewing on his cheek. The smoke curls around his nose as the crush of stones under tires sounds in the distance. “Don’t alienate Linwood.”
I snort, flicking the ashes away. “Really, Zio? That man is not to be trusted.”
“Trusted? No,” he agrees. “But he can be a true asset if you know how to control him.”
“Nobody can control Linwood.” I scoff. “Just like no one can truly know how a viper will strike, no one can truly know what Killian Linwood will do.”
“He’s dangerous, piccolo, but he’s skilled.” He stubs out the cigarette onto his heel, leaning on the cane for support. “And even though you cannot control Linwood, there are others who can.”
I follow him to the stairs, confusion etching my brow. “Care to explain?”
Nico sighs tiredly. “When you’re older, Lex. When you’re older.”
