Page 93 of Lord of Ruin

The details would never be known, Sean’s body never found, his widow sent money to ease her pain. I found it fascinating that the old school ways could work, the group developing a fund they were required to put money into every year in case something like this happened. As my father had always said, you took care of your own. Period. Whether in protection or in becoming judge and jury. He and my uncle had been members of their own similar organization.

Much like the Brotherhood, what happened behind closed doors and throughout the country or world stayed there.

Much like sins in Vegas.

At the least the Brotherhood had evolved, working for the greater good of innocent people and commerce, building on community as well. How things changed. Yet the old ways would always be hiding in the shadows.

I sensed Jenna was asleep and slowly eased my arm from under her, taking my wineglass and the second opened bottle of wine outside to the balcony.

While she preferred the mornings, I preferred the darkness, especially nights when there was no moon. The shadows soothed my soul, keeping me grounded. Phoenix was right. Before I’d known what happened, I’d lost my spirit and verve for life, even though I was damn good at faking it.

The night was cool, but I enjoyed the light breeze tingling my skin.

I’d learned something that could forever alter my relationship with the beautiful woman. Both her parents were Irish, although her father’s background had zero connection to anyone in Italy or to the Irish mob.

But her mother was a different story.

And learning the truth had been unnerving as fuck, which had kept me away from the house for longer than needed.

Sean’s death should bring Madden out into the open. From everything I’d learned about the man, he’d worked even while behind bars to secure a place in the United States. My gut told me he’d maneuvered the situation with Viktor and Sean, somehow managing to pit one against the other.

Viktor’s statement about me killing more than two men finally made sense. My actions had been shadowed by some of Madden’s men, laying a trail of blood that I had nothing to do with. The pieces were all falling together, none of which made it any easier to deal with.

The subterfuge had provided Madden with a golden path to arrive in the United States, becoming the surrogate father for Sean’s younger children, neither one old enough to take over their father’s throne. The bastard had purchased oil rigs in nearly every part of the world, already parlaying his original fifty-million-dollar wealth into a number approaching a billion. And half of that had been done when he’d been behind prison walls.

I had to give the man credit. He’d remained under the radar, slowly building his infrastructure while other mafia leaders had been greedy.

I poured some wine, taking a sip as I thought about the next day. On a last-minute text from Phoenix, several members of the Brotherhood, including my brother were arriving in Santorini for a meeting. The others would be in attendance by Zoom. That meant Madden had been found or he’d made additional threats. Either way, it was time to take action.

Yet something didn’t sit right with me. I was certain all of us were missing something, my brother included. The quiet before the fucking storm of the century.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she purred from behind me.

“You don’t want to know my thoughts.”

She laughed and walked closer, tying her robe as she looked down at the fountain in the courtyard below us. When she revealed she really did have a coin in her hand, the lightheartedness I’d felt before started to return.

“If I’m successful pitching this into the water, then you need to tell me everything that’s on your mind. Do we have a deal?”

I grinned as I looked at the distance, the fountain at least twenty feet away. “You’ll never make it.”

“Bet me.”

“Okay. You have a deal, bad girl.”

I should have learned that underestimating a girl who’d spent time with a rough and rugged uncle in Texas wasn’t the best thing to do. Irish or not, she was an American tomboy through and through.

She eyed the goal, lifted her hand as she planted a smile on her face and without batting an eye, she flicked the coin into the air. There was even a flair to her throw, the coin going several feet over our heads before slowly making its way toward the fountain.

The splash was subtle yet more powerful than she had any idea about.

“I’ll be damned.”

Chuckling from beside me, she took the wineglass into her hand, lifting it in a private toast before licking the rim and taking a sip. “My grampa taught me that little trick.”

I just shook my head. When she placed her hand on my back, I took a deep breath.

“You asked me to trust you enough so you could save my life and you did, three separate times. Now, I’m asking you to trust me enough to share your greatest demon with me.”

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