Page 47 of City of Wind and Lies

Maybe that’s what kept me from settling down all this time; the thought of a life void of my sadistic thrills. I'm self-aware enough to know that I use sex to flex the muscle of violence that lives inside of me. But with Wren, it’s different. She's different. Her words ring in my ears that she's not afraid, that she wants this, wants me, even after all that she's seen.

Cazzo, I want it all, with her.

As I finish off my coffee, my mind feels lighter, but my bladder now carries the burden. I stalk off down the hall to the restroom to take a piss. I hear the whine of the back door's hinges and the snick of the latch, followed by clips of dress shoes against the tile while I wash my hands. Pulling open the wooden door, I step out into the hall to see Rocco sliding his sunglasses into his shirt pocket as he lifts his chin in my direction.

"Ciao," I greet, tipping my head towards my office. "What's the word?"

"Allen hasn't come home," Rocco states flatly, entering the office and taking a seat on the leather sofa. "One of Dallas' men swept the house. He didn't see anything that showed a rushed departure."

I take my place behind my desk, steepling my hands on the lacquered surface as I listen.

Rocco drapes an arm across the back of the sofa. "Did you know Allen had a gambling problem?"

To be perfectly honest, I don't know much about the man. Before he started skimming money from me, he'd been a model employee. He’d been at Vento Ventures for two years, and aside from work related matters, we never really talked, and before the reporting issues he'd never given me a reason to look past the surface.

"What makes you say that?" I ask carefully.

"There were betting receipts from Hawthorne's on the table, and by the looks of it he wasn't any good at it."

“Hmm.” If he owed a bookie money, his theft makes more sense. I lean back, idly stroking my chin in consideration, "Ask around. I want to know if he took a loan from our outfit, he could’ve used a fake name if he’d wised up to who I am."

Rocco nods. "Is it possible that he's not only hiding from you, but who he owed the money to?"

I grunt in irritation, weighing his words. I suppose skimming money from me would make sense, if he thought a loan shark was after him. But that would also mean he didn't know as much about me as he thought, because if he knew, he wouldn’t have risked my wrath. Right?

"Would he invite peril into his pathetic life if he knew your position, just to bide time with another?" Rocco asks as if he's reading my thoughts.

"No," I affirm. “Only an idiot with a death wish would knowingly involve themselves with two facets of the mafia.” The dots are starting to connect the more I verbalize it. "Which means he borrowed from someone who he thinks runs this city, someone he's been made to fear-"

"Belluci," we say in unison.

Shifting in my seat, I pull my phone out of my slacks pocket and type out a message to O'Ryan, asking for a meeting tonight at the silos.

"I'll get with O'Ryan, see if he can dig up more on Allen using that confidential case cover. In the meantime, I want all our guys across the city to know his face. If anyone encounters him, they grab, nab, follow, bribe or whatever to get that shit stain out to the hangar. But," I rock forward, resting my elbows on the desk and pinning Rocco with a hard look. "They don't hurt him in the slightest, not a single fucking hair on his sleazy head. His screams, his pain, every last whimper or beg that man has in him, is mine. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Boss," Rocco replies, pulling his own phone out and tapping away at the screen.

I drum my fingers across the desktop, eyes darting to my phone vibrating next to the stack of reports that still need my attention. The message on the screen confirms my meetup with O'Ryan. Even though I scheduled this, it still sends a jolt of annoyance through my system. This day is going to be longer than I anticipated, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the afternoon with Wren.

"What's got you twisted?" Rocco asks, pushing up from his spot on the sofa and heading towards the bar.

Pressing to my feet, I cross the room to join him. "You're getting better at reading me, cousin."

"You can thank Isa for that," he chuckles, grabbing two lowball glasses and setting them beside the bottle of whiskey I got out earlier.

"Oh yeah?" I lift an eyebrow at him, pulling out one of the tawny leather barstools and taking a seat as he pours us each a couple of fingers of the amber liquor. "Why's that?"

He slides a glass in my direction, sitting back on the stool beside me as his face splits in a grin. "Because with women, especially with one as complicated as Isa, you've got to learn to decipher every word and little flicker of expression they offer you."

I swirl the liquid around in my glass, thinking about his words and how they don't seem to quite reflect what I've seen of Wren.

"You see, women are like beautiful bullets." He pauses, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a gulp before continuing. "Sleek, shiny, and powerful. The outside can be perfect, not a single flaw, and you add it to the magazine thinking nothing could go wrong with such a pristine component. So you cock the gun, slide your finger to the trigger, take your aim… and when you pull back, BAM!" he shouts, slamming his glass to the table, whiskey sloshing out over the rim. "That bullet was hot, too much propellant and the barrel of your piece is gone along with a chunk of your flesh."

I tip back my own glass, the liquor burning down my throat as I try to figure out what the fuck Rocco is trying to say. My face must show my bemusement, because he's quick to keep going.

"What I'm saying is that, if you'd taken the time to notice the weight of the bullets you always used compared to that of the new one, you'd have been able to avoid the catastrophe. Women are the same, they have little tells that show you what they’re really feeling, no matter how perfect the outside looks."

Reaching for the bottle, I refill my glass and shoot him a questioning look. He nods and I top off his as well. "Okay, if you are so wise with women, then help me with my own."

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