Page 1 of Entangled in Them

Chapter One

Dillon

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THE FIST FLEW TOWARD my face, and I didn’t even bother to duck. Hard knuckles and an even harder solid gold ring connected with my cheekbone and sent me staggering back. Pain exploded through the side of my head, and my vision went black, stars dancing in the darkness. I managed to keep my balance and didn’t go down on the hard, concrete floor of the industrial warehouse where the meeting point had been arranged.

“You’ll take whatever they’re willing to give you,” the man who’d hit me spat. “Men like you need to know their place.”

I was in trouble with the Capello brothers, two of the most dangerous men in New York, and they both stood by and watched this altercation with barely a change of expression.

Both men were older than my twenty-five years. Francesco—or Frankie, as he was more commonly known—was in his forties, and his younger brother, Manuel, was in his late thirties. They were well known and respected in the city, both with families and kids, though their families didn’t seem to weaken them at all. Both were smartly dressed in similar outfits of dark gray suits, with black shirts underneath. Their similarities didn’t end with their clothes, as their hair and eyes marked them as brothers, though the older of the two, Frankie, was on the heavier side, his dark hair now approaching gray.

In Frankie Capello’s hand was the manila envelope containing the forged passports I’d created for him.

The guy with the swinging fists worked for the brothers. The Capellos stood to one side and gave orders—they didn’t get their hands dirty themselves.

There was no point in fighting back, even though I itched to launch myself back at the goon who’d hit me and repay him for the blow with several of my own. Bare knuckle fighting was something I’d done as entertainment when I was a teenager growing up in Ireland, and I was more than comfortable with using my fists.

I’d turned up at this meeting expecting a payment of fifty grand after I’d handed over three brand-new passports with brand-new names. I was supposed to have been paid in full, but it seemed my clients had different ideas.

Perhaps I should be thankful I was being threatened with fists instead of guns. It could go either way in this city. And with the company I was keeping right now, I was sure they were all carrying—the Capello brothers, for sure. I had my own gun, but I hadn’t brought it with me. Seemed to me, you were more likely to get shot in this city if you were armed as well. Perhaps that was just the difference in our cultures showing. I’d been living in America since my teens, but I couldn’t shake the idea the streets were more dangerous if everyone was armed. Ryan and Kodee would tell me I was being dumb, and I’d made a mistake by not bringing a gun myself, but I was trusting my instincts. The Capello brothers wanted to let me know who was boss, but they didn’t want me dead. I was worth too much for them to kill me—for the moment, anyway.

The others would go fucking nuts if they learned I’d come here alone. That wasn’t how we did things, the three of us. We were supposed to have each other’s backs—and we did, for the most part—but I’d screwed up, and I didn’t want them to have to deal with the fallout.

I rubbed my aching cheekbone. I was outnumbered five to one. If I started fighting back, there was a good chance they’d shoot me. I had to behave myself and just take what I had coming. It wasn’t a good idea to mess with the Capellos. Ryan and Kodee had already reminded me of that. They were going to be seriously pissed when they found out what I’d done. We’d needed the money, and it had seemed worth the risk at the time, but the Capellos had a name for themselves for screwing other people over, and it seemed I was going to be another in their list.

Fuck.

I still had to try.

“If you can’t afford it, I can always take installments.” I couldn’t help my cheeky tone, even though I was bruised and in a dangerous spot.

Frankie Capello smirked. “You get paid based on the quality of your work.”

“So, you’re saying the quality isn’t good enough?” I replied. “You won’t be back for more, then?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “If we want more, you make more.”

Ah, bollocks. This was exactly why the others had told me not to get involved. I’d put us on the Capellos’ radar, and now they were going to make us their bitches. I was going to be in a boat load of trouble.

People heard my accent and assumed I was green. My parents had moved here over ten years ago, and even though they were both long dead, I’d never rid myself of the Irish accent. It was in the differences in how I said my ‘th’s’ or how my ‘i’s’ sounded like ‘o.’ Everyone pretended they liked the Irish, especially if it happened to be around St. Paddy’s day, but the reality was that it made me stand out. I was different, and they knew it.

I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. Unless I get paid, there won’t be any more work from me.” I had to stand my ground.

“Shall I hit him again, boss?” asked the goon who’d punched me.

But Frankie Capello lifted his hand to stop him.

“We’ll bring you your payment.”

The sudden change of heart surprised me, but I straightened my shoulders. I didn’t know what I’d said or done to make them change their minds, but it was good news. I needed that money.

“Good to hear it.” I could hardly believe I’d gotten them to see sense.

The corner of his lips curled in a smirk. “We know where you live.”

There was cold menace in those words, and any relief I’d experienced at the thought that all of this hadn’t gone completely tits-up faded away.

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