Page 37 of Falling for the Enemy

I drop my hand, and he sucks in a needed breath, the rage and determination erupting inside him visible on his face. He isn’t going to let this go. I can see it now. He’s going to risk death to go after what he thinks he may want.

Sweet with just a hint of spice.

“Well, shit-fire!”

I look over my shoulder, finding Grandmama standing feet away, her head swiveling from Benito to Jade, then back to Benito.

“I’ll tell you what, even I couldn’t have seen this one coming!” Ignoring the death glare Carmen is shooting my right-hand man and the growl that emits from my chest, she continues. “And lemme tell you, James Cole is gonna have himself a dad-blasted stroke!” She nods. “Why yes, yes, he is!”

Having heard enough, I grasp Benito’s arm and shove him toward the driver’s side of the SUV. “Get in.”

Exhaling, I turn to face my sister.

For a moment, I worry my actions have upset her. But one look at the murderous expression she’s wearing, and I know that isn’t the case. Fierce and protective like Mamá had been, if I don’t get Benito in line, she may handle him herself.

“Princesa, I’ll call you.”

I don’t wait for her response.

The darkness that lives in my chest has risen, swirling beneath my skin. Close to breaking free, I need to get away from here before I go back on my word and show her more of my demons than I mistakenly already have.

With my head pounding, I round the car and jump in, slamming the door shut behind me. My stare pierces the side of Benito’s face, burning holes into his cheek. “Fucking drive!”

Wisely, he does as I demand.

* * *

“La Famiglia is set to strike against the Kings.”

My pulse quickens as I stare down at the cracked iPhone Christian handed me seconds ago, the words he’s just spoken adding fuel to the mental fire Benito set ablaze back at Carmen’s.

I care little about the Fallen Kings’ soldiers, their deaths would be of little consequence to me, but a strike against the Russians equates to a strike against Arianna herself.

That’s something I won’t allow.

Considering she’s my enemy and just as likely to drive a knife into my heart as Stefano, I shouldn’t care what happens to her. Especially not when her demise would lead to one less issue on my already overflowing plate.

The problem is, I do care.

Over my dead body will anyone harm her.

“When and where?”

Christian nods to the phone, one that belonged to the Italian I captured in Toluca a week ago. It seems Luis breaking into the device, somehow bypassing the security key, revealed more information than I’d been able to torture out of the nameless fuck.

“According to the Italian’s texts, Stefano’s planning on taking a shot at your girlfriend”—the cabrón smirks—“while she attends some charity event in downtown Charleston.”

I frown, my forehead wrinkling. “You and Luis got all that from text messages?”

How fucking estúpido can La Famiglia be?

Texting strategies to one another?

The phone isn’t even a burner.

“Si. And like a good little soldier”—his smirk grows— “I went ahead and found the location of the event for you.” After pulling his own phone from his pocket, he swipes his finger across the screen then hands it to me, a picture of The Carriage Inn, a glitzy center city hotel staring back at me. “Hope you brought a tux, Jefe, because it’s black-tie only.”

“When?” I repeat.

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