Page 81 of SINS & Temptation

I look up at the ref. “I need more time.”

“Too late. A debt has been called. That trumps your little spar. We need the cage.” He kicks Kreshnik’s lifeless form. “He’s dead. It’s over.”

I should be rejoicing over one less flesh peddler, but unease settles over me like tar.

Two of Andre’s men, both naming me as the puppet master with their dying breath. And I need to know who’s pulling the strings.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Dante hands me a scotch and collapses onto the seat beside me, defeated.

I toss back the glass of scotch, hoping to numb the gnawing dread that my uncle has the upper hand. I know it doesn’t work when a second later, I send the glass flying across the jet with enough force to shatter and bust a hole in the panel.

I can feel Dante’s glare without looking at him. “First, you buy a jet with my Black Card, and then you destroy it?”

My lips twist into a grin. Yeah, I feel a little bad about that.

When I ignore him, Dante punches me in the arm—the one I was previously shot in. I suck in a wince. “Your rib next,” he threatens. “Talk.”

I blow out a breath. “Uncle Andre’s setting me up.”

“How do you know?”

“The dance school is a front. I’ve cleaned it up, but there are dozens of fronts with my name on them. So, I’ve been taking them over. Cleaning them, then holding them. But I doubt I’ve accounted for all of them. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m at half.”

“Why would Andre do that?”

“Because I’m his biggest threat. He doesn’t want me dead; otherwise, he wouldn’t have had me shot in the arm. I run D’Angelo Holdings. To the world, I’m at the helm. If I’m under his thumb, he owns it, too.”

Dante leans back, considering. “Fine. You step down. One of us takes over.”

The weight of the idea has merit. But between targeting me or one of my brothers, I’d rather be his target practice. “Not yet.” I say it to placate him, avoiding a long, drawn-out argument.

Dante switches the monitor from a soccer game to a FaceTime call. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

When Smoke, Dillon, and Mateo’s faces light up the screen, I roll my eyes.

“You found him,” Smoke says. “And alive. Which means Dillon owes me twenty bucks.”

“You bet on whether I was dead or alive? For twenty bucks?” I snap, offended.

Smoke shrugs. “At least I bet you’d stay alive.”

“What?” Dillon retorts, pointing at me. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if you were me.”

Point taken.

“You look like hell, man.” Mateo smirks, taking in my disheveled state. “Lady troubles? I’ve got a bottle of blue pills with your name on it.”

“Keep them, bro. With that, you’ve got a marginal shot at actually satisfying women. Two-inch dick and all.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” Smoke grumbles. “Because I’ve got shit to do.”

Dante elbows me hard in the arm—ow—and I huff out a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Kennedy is being targeted by Andre. But I know what he really wants—me. I need to take him down before he takes me down.”

“Correction,” Dante interjects with his usual quit fucking around voice. “We need to take him down.”

I shake my head, the weight of involving my brothers pressing on me like a hot iron. “I’m only telling you this because you need to shield yourselves. Keep your distance from me, and, as a favor to me, protect my wife.”

None of them hesitates, but Smoke is the first to speak. “You’re an idiot.”

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