A single question remained.
How the fuck did the man find out Sierra was in my possession? There were only a handful of trusted individuals who knew, including the consigliere. While it had been mentioned at dinner, obviously that didn’t matter. Then there were my soldiers, including Justin and Drake, who’d been recommended by Dante. Maybe I’d been too careless in my actions. That was going to stop right now. I would stop at nothing to find out what the fuck had occurred.
The entire evening played like a bad C-rated movie in my mind, my thoughts drifting to the goddamn FBI who’d been tipped off. The man leading the investigation? None other than David Fox. The way the aging drone of the department had stared at my injured father had pissed me off. I’d almost snapped his neck. Only Dante had been able to stop me. I knew Mr. Fox would sniff in every dark alley in a perverse attempt to pin the entire massacre on my family.
At least I had a reason to keep him on ice. I’d pay a visit to the man later in the day to help him understand the situation. First things first. I needed to send a series of messages to Axel, further fueling the battle that had been started. Once news hit the streets, there would be a certain level of chaos among our dealers. We couldn’t afford to take any additional hits. Our profits were down, our control slipping. Goddamn it, I was furious.
I’d been forced to fork out some large bills to a couple of officers on our payroll in order to keep the attack quiet, but I knew the shit would be leaked to the press. At least there were no pictures of the blood and gore, a clear sign of weakness.
Still, the rumors would fly soon enough if they hadn’t begun already.
We’d lost two good men, Vincenzo still in the hospital with a serious but non-life-threatening wound to the abdomen. Fortunately, Angelo had already regrouped, making certain Vincenzo’s men remained on schedule. There was far too much at stake to allow the attack to hinder us in any manner. At least my father was resting comfortably in the hospital and under heavy guard, where I’d make certain he stayed for the time being. My gut told me that he hadn’t been the actual target. If he had been, my father would be dead.
That left me as the intended target. Fucking assholes had come in through the back door leading to the alley, muscling in through the line cooks. Fucking split second timing had thwarted their plans.
Then there was my brother.
I sighed, turning my hands over several times, still able to see Stefan’s blood covering them. Every fucking person in the Movino clan would pay for what they did. My entire body was shaking from the rage rushing through me. I had to think straight and to shove aside my anger in order to determine a plan of action. Perhaps it was time for blood to rain in the streets again. At least the gods had been with me. I’d located the third asshole. The message had been sent back to Axel.
Fuck with me and you and every member of your organization will pay.
Instead of making good on my threat immediately, what had I done? Returned and fucked the woman I’d sworn to protect instead of getting her the hell out of town.
Jesus.
And still, the need for her burned deep within, a swirling electrified desire of sadistic hunger I’d never before experienced. Sure, the time I’d spent with her years ago had been enticing, but my longing for her bridged another level entirely. Her words stuck in my mind, a realization of the kind of man I’d become.
Cold and indifferent.
At least I could give her the kind of respect she deserved by being truthful with her. Then I’d follow through with the only thing that made sense, locking her down in another location. The only man in my employ that I trusted implicitly at this point was Dante. He’d come up through the ranks. He’d taken his share of bullets for me. He would die in order to protect her.
I snarled, realizing that I had very little trust left for anyone.
Sighing, I turned off the DVD player, the television reverting back to regular programming and the early morning news.
The red bulletin on the bottom of the screen was enough to grab my attention.
FBI Investigating Mafia Connection
“Fuck.”
I jerked to my feet as the leading morning report was on the murder of the senator’s son, implications regarding my family’s involvement the follow-up to the blasphemous bullshit. My hand was still wrapped around the remote, issuing enough pressure I heard the crunch of the cheap plastic. Bristling, I turned up the volume, realizing that someone was playing a vicious game.
The police had obviously provided enough information about the heinous crime that the reporter was eating up the untruths like candy. When that occurred, it usually meant the boys in blue were fishing, their assumptions that my organization had been involved fascinating.
Or perhaps telling.
Given the political status of the victim’s father, the FBI had naturally been called in. I rubbed my jaw, musing over the possibilities.
The vivid pictures of Senator Spalding and his wife grieving as they were hounded by scores of local and national reporters was disgusting. And the few words he’d muttered while glaring at the cameras pushed a new level of resolve into my system.
“I will personally hunt down the man who killed my son and bring him to justice,” William Spalding bellowed.
I had the distinct feeling he was talking to me. There was no love lost between the senator and my family, although my father had taken the time years ago to engage in a limited friendship when the man had been the district attorney. Hell, our family had certainly been a huge help when it had come time for his reelection campaign. But I wasn’t my father, the deal made between the two of them.
As the scene cut to the actual alley where the murder had been committed, the local reporter mentioning the possibility of a witness, I was floored. What the fuck kind of game did they think they were playing?
With the implications that had been tossed out, it was only a matter of time before the FBI was breathing down my neck. Maybe I’d take the bull by the horns and challenge David Fox first.
He owed me one, although he didn’t know it yet. I’d decided not to play the ace of spades almost two years before when I found out about his certain proclivities.
Perhaps it was time for me to be the one to shuffle the deck.
I didn’t bother retrieving my clothes. I had to get to her. I had to explain a certain portion of what I was thinking.
Hell, maybe even what I was feeling.
I’d never believed in love. There was no place for it in my world, but I’d left Cancun asking myself what if. The fact fate had brought us back together was both exciting and damning. However, my feelings needed to be on hold until the end of this war.
“Sierra!” My voice bellowed in the stairway as I climbed the stairs. She’d closed the door to her bedroom. Hers. Hell, why the fuck had I positioned her anywhere away from me? I bristled, hissing under my breath. She was the only person possible of breaking through my tight level of control. I threw open the door, taking several exaggerated but necessary breaths as I stormed inside.
“Just leave me alone, Lorenzo. I mean nothing to you. That’s obvious,” Sierra spouted, cowering away from me against the wall, desperately tying the sash on her robe. I could tell her lower lip was quivering, her eyes wild with… fear. The woman was still terrified of me. Hell, I’m not certain I blamed her.
My actions were inconsistent, my emotions all over the fucking place. I wasn’t a man capable of having any kind of normal relationship. What did I have to compare it to? My father? Hell, he’d had more mistresses in his lifetime than enemies. How my mother had been able to tolerate his philandering was beyond me, yet she’d been compliant and sweet always, refusing to say anything bad about her own husband. For all who knew our family, we appeared happy, even normal to some.
I knew better.
My father was brutal, demanding total obedience from his wife and children. That’s all I knew, a training ground of sorts, and he was the only role model. My mother had been far too sweet but unable to counteract my father’s iron fist. Even Armando’s presence had been like an old boy’s club, both men frequenting BDSM clubs to satisfy their penchant for sadism. Fuck. Me. I’d turned out just like my father. Only Stefan seemed free of my father’s oppressive thumb.