Page 3 of Mercy in Betrayal

When the gunfire ceases, my men move toward the fallen and start to lift the lifeless bodies off the floor.

“Let’s talk outside,” I say to Angel, and he nods in agreement.

He joins me as I stride from the room, and I’m once again struck at how comfortable he is. He shows no fear, even with the awareness that I have a weapon, and his hands are empty. At least, that’s how it appears. He hasn’t indicated that he is carrying anything. I’m no fool, though, and neither is Angel Valachi.

“Why did you arrange all this?” I ask.

Angel glances at the flickering light, and a grin coats his lips before he points at it. “I think it’s time for something new. Out with the old.” He lowers his hand. “It’s time, Enzo, for a new generation to lead the mafia, men with loyalty and purpose. That won’t happen with the old advisors stabbing each other in the back. We can’t survive like that anymore.”

He’s right, but I don’t say anything.

“I need men who are loyal like you.”

“You think I will be loyal to you?” I ask.

His laugh is quick. “Of course not. I want you to be loyal to your own. That’s all I seek.”

Angel holds my gaze for a beat even as my men pass by, dragging out the traitors who met their fate. He reaches into his pocket, and I can’t help but reach for my waistband. Angelus smirks and holds up a photograph. I relax my fingers, and he hands over the photograph without a word.

I take the small square of film and flip it over. It takes me a moment to focus on its unlikely subject, a young woman standing in a shipping yard, surrounded by a group of men. Her red hair trails behind her like a flag, lighting my nerves on fire, I clamp down on the instant attraction and hand the photo back to Angelus. “Yeah?”

A little smile crooks the corner of his mouth, and he ignores the photo. “Cassidy O’Rourke hid his little sister on a ship. He was smuggling her out of Ireland.”

I shrug. “So what?” I’m intrigued, but I can’t show my hand.

He flicks the photo. “This isn’t Cassidy smuggling her onto the ship. This is where she landed. I know where she is.”

I shrug again and repeat my words. “So what’s it to me?”

“Her name is Rowan, and she is O’Rourke’s special little treasure. This is a union I would approve, Enzo. This is your new beginning. The power this would give you with her by your side—”

I sneer. “I don’t need a woman to gain power.”

Angel takes a quick look at the image again. “You don’t. It’s not her but the union. She will be yours to do with as you wish.”

Before I can respond, he leans in. “Just think about it.” He presses the photo into my chest, and I accept it as his men appear around him. He tips his chin at me, and with a knowing look turns and leaves, his men parting so he can walk between them like a king.

I don’t move as my men continue to take out the dead bodies.

I glance down at the photo, my fingers trailing over its laminated edges thoughtfully.

Rowan O’Rourke. A pretty little queen for a new king.

Chapter 1

Enzo

The wolves have come out to play. Everyone smiles, talks, and laughs, but behind the smiles is calculation; behind the words is always a double meaning, and as far as the laughter goes, it’s just a shield to conceal what they’re really thinking.

The room is filled with the most dangerous people in the world. If a stranger walked in off the street—not that they could with all the security, but if they did—it would appear a simple gathering of beautiful, rich people, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new year. Silver and burgundy balloons dance in the air above each table, a net holding them in place until it’s time for them to drop down upon us at the stroke of midnight.

How I hate all of this. How I hate these people.

Actors, all of us, politely toasting each other while we wait to slide a knife between the ribs. Most of the time, you never even see the threat coming. You have to be very good at the game in order to survive it.

It’s exhausting.

Laughter from a table a few feet away draws my attention. I noticed Luca and Carina earlier; it’s hard not to, with the large dog that sits erect at Carina’s side. My lip twists wryly. Only my sister could get away with having an animal at her side at a posh society event. He’s alert and trained to protect his owner, but more, I think he’s some kind of service animal.

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