28

Callahan
“He’ll be pissed but I don’t care. I want men riding with my uncle and Portia. How many are on property?”
“Thirteen, sir. I’m seeing if I can get some on the roof without raising eyebrows,” Dante says. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered. If it becomes more than a threat, well take care of it.”
“And get her out. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I disconnect the call and dial my uncle. I’m on my way to the event location but am later than I hoped. I had two things to do when I left Portia after lunch. First, pick up the rings. Wedding bands. Simple.
That’s what I should have stuck to, at least.
But for some fucking reason and by some stupidity, I’d brought my mother’s engagement ring with me and had it resized for her.
I touch my pocket now, feel the velvet box and I’m not sure what the fuck is wrong with me when it comes to this woman. Why the fuck am I giving her this particular engagement ring when what she’ll want to do is use the stones to carve out my eyes as soon as she hears what will be expected of her.
“Callahan,” my uncle says, picking up on the fourth ring. “We didn’t need the goddamned detail. I have my own security.”
“I’m not taking any chances. She’s with you?”
A pause. “Yes.”
“Can she hear us?”
“Of course not. What’s going on?”
“Something’s going down tonight.”
“You’re sure? I haven’t heard anything from my sources. ”
“Where’s Alec?”
“Riding with my men.”
“I told him not to leave her side.”
“It gets a little cramped in the limo.”
“Fine. Don’t mention anything to her. I don’t want her worried.”
“I wouldn’t. Where did you go anyway?”
“Picking up a ring,” I leave the rest out.
“All afternoon? Aren’t you the romantic?”
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I disconnect the call and tuck it into my pocket, thinking about my second task this afternoon which was dropping by Diamente’s to give him those names.
I’ve been giving him the names I write in my ledger. The ones that just didn’t feel right to me. I told him the first time I brought them to him to dig up as much dirt as he could. Maybe it’s a way of alleviating my conscience. If I know they’re bad people, it will make what I did a little more okay.
Without concrete evidence of their involvement in my family’s murders, things just don’t sit right sometimes.
And I know my uncle won’t always have concrete evidence.
I won’t tell him about giving Diamente the names for a couple of reasons. First, Diamente and my uncle do not like each other. They’re civil when they need to be, but something happened between them years ago, must be fifteen years now, and neither of them has moved on from it.
Second, I know my uncle would find it weak that I need to do this. That I need to clear my conscience.
The driver pulls through the gates of the mansion where the party is being hosted. It’s a private home and I can’t march in with a detail of security guards without raising the alarm that I’m back in business. The Scarfoni Mafia restored; all nefarious activities resumed. That wouldn’t look good for the charity.
The moment I step out of the vehicle the two women from the charity appear to accompany me inside. I smile and go along, not hiding the fact that I’m checking my watch.
The first person I see when I step inside is Heathcliff Esmeralda. It turns my already dark mood black.
“Excuse me,” I tell the ladies and unlink my arms.
Heathcliff smiles, turning to say something to the bartender, so just when I reach him, a whiskey is set on the counter for me.
“I had your preferred brand stocked.” he says.
“What are you doing here?” I take the whiskey, thank the bartender. Not this asshole.
“Since I’m leaving the business, I thought it would be good to rub elbows with this… um… better class of people.”
I swallow some of the whiskey. “There is no better class of people, Heathcliff. I thought you’d know that by now.”
“Where’s my niece?”
The way he calls her my niece bugs me. Why not just call her Portia?”
“On her way.”
“Did you tell her the good news yet?”
I open my mouth to answer when his gaze shifts to the door. I swear the air around me shifts and sparks like it’s electric. Alive and humming.
She’s here. I feel it.
But something in Heathcliff’s expression has caught my attention. His jaw is tight, body stiffening. There’s something not right about the way he’s looking at her. At his fucking niece.
I blink, turn my head and the instant I see her from across the huge room, my breath catches.
Every man in the place has stopped to look at her and I want to punch every single one of them. I can’t blame them, however, can I?
She’s fucking beautiful.
Portia is standing just inside the entrance, my uncle at her side.
She’s looking around the room, lips slightly parted wearing a gown the color of her name. Silk hugs her curves, breasts lifted, nipples poking against the fabric, the slit that splits the dress exposing a toned, slender thigh. It’s just this side of modest.
I’d send the boutique owner a bonus if I hadn’t already seen the charge on my card.
She finally spots me, the dark, smoky liner making her eyes a soft gold. Like sand. The color of the beach on the island when the summer sun hits it.
Her lips are painted to match the dress and her hair is piled on top on her head. I know every man in here has a hard-on for her and every woman wants to be her.
That or kill her.
They’d have to get in line. My Little Kitten has more enemies than she knows.
My phone buzzes in my breast pocket. My uncle puts his hand on her elbow and she abruptly tugs it away. I’m glad. I don’t want him touching her.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Heathcliff asks beside me.
I turn to find him studying me with a smirk on his face, looking more relaxed than I’ve probably ever seen him.
“Shame what her brothers did to her.”
He’s baiting me. I know it. But I bite alright. “What do you mean?”
“Oh,” he says, trying too hard for casual as he gives a shake of his head. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, Heathcliff. You clearly want to tell me something.”
He smiles. It’s not a kind smile. “Making a whore out of her like they did.” When his eyes fall on Portia again, there’s a leering look inside them. It makes my skin crawl. I’m about to grab this asshole and shake him, smash his face into the bar.
Maybe stab his perverted eyes out with an ice pick.
But I need to keep calm.
“What do you mean?” I ask again, swallowing some whiskey to occupy my mouth before I give anything away.
“Fernando wanted a taste. They were smart though. I have to give them that.” He turns to the man behind the bar. “Bartender. Another for me and my friend.”
I can’t help myself. I grab hold of his collar because in my periphery I see my uncle leading her toward us and I want to know what the fuck this son-of-a-bitch is talking about.
“Spit it out, Heathcliff. What the fuck are you trying to tell me?”
He looks down at my hand and it takes me a minute, but I release him.
“Fernando wanted Portia from the beginning. Had a thing for her. The brothers thought if he fucked her, he wouldn’t marry her. But without the marriage, their position would be weakened. Having a look, however, well, that seemed to satisfy his lust. Building anticipation until the wedding night I guess.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He turns to look at her, expression hardening, “Let’s just say that pig knows every inch of her.” He returns his gaze to me. “It was good for her pride, though. As you probably know, she’s prideful, my niece. The night her brothers sold her virginity in exchange for the marriage of the two families brought her down a notch. Several.”
Rage beats against my ears, my chest, my fingernails digging into my palms. It’s alarming how much effect she’s come to have on me for just a few days. How much I’ve come to love her, to want to protect her.
“How do you know this?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I was there. And really, that was all assuming she was a virgin at all. I was around when she was growing up. I remember how she pranced around in her tight little shorts when she was just a girl.”
What the fuck is this asshole saying?
“Always putting on a show for any man who walked by.”
He turns to me, must see the rage building inside me because he clears his throat. “I tried to help her, of course.”
I turn just as Portia is within earshot. “I’m sure you tried to help her,” I say under my breath, vowing then to kill this pervert. Not even caring about the cartel and what that would do to my relationship with them.
I will kill Heathcliff Esmeralda. I mean it in every sense of the word. Either I drive a knight through his heart, or I put a bullet into his goddamn skull.
I will kill him.
I must.