Page 27 of The Devil In Disguise

Before I get a chance to protest, the container is in his hand and he’s already going in the direction of the open field. Following behind with Ace, we stay at a distance, watching.

He wasn’t lying; most of them are dismissing him like they did me, but two of them finally listen to him and take a slice each. Their reactions are enough to leave a satisfying smile on my face as they start talking amongst each other while Marco comes back.

“They can be stubborn, but I guarantee they won’t be turning down what you bake anymore,” he says on the walk back to the woods.

“That looked way easier when you did it. Where did you even come from?”

“I’ve always worked for the Kincaid syndicate, but they moved me over here to replace one of the soldiers that got taken out.”

As the words processed, my feet stopped moving. “Syndicate?”

He furrows his brows. “Yes. I don’t think I remember the last time I met someone who didn’t know about them, much less someone living on their property.”

While I try to dig into the blocked parts of my brain, I stare down into the grass and continue walking. “Maybe I did know. Kylo is letting me stay here while I get...better. I was in an accident and have some type of amnesia,” I say sheepishly.

Of course, everything makes much more sense—especially all the soldiers and security I’ve seen. Looking back on it, he does carry himself like a made man. I wonder what he actually does, though—I have a good idea, yet my curiosity still runs rampant.

When I don’t hear a response, I turn to a confused-looking Marco. “I have questions, but I don’t wanna pry,” he says. Luckily, he changes the subject when I shake my head. “Well, how about that training session? We can go easy or we can spar or shoot.”

“I don’t think I have ever shot a gun.”

This time it’s Marco who stops walking. Once I notice he catches up to me.

“That’s what we’re doing today, come with me.” He leads us deeper into the woods where some of the trees have targets painted on. “You are the only female I’ve seen here who isn’t a worker and most of these men are God awful. Now, are you left-handed or right-handed?”

After directing me on where to stand, he pulls out a gun from a holster on his calf—that I didn’t notice until now—he says it’ll be easier for me to learn with a Glock 9.

“Right hand on the grip. Keep your last three fingers on the front strap with a tight grip, not so tight that you’re shaking, though. Keep your finger off the trigger unless you’re going to shoot so we avoid you getting trigger-happy and causing an accident.” He gives me a side-eye. “The magazine is fully loaded, so pop it in there and give it a firm pat on the bottom. Just like that, perfect. Now, since you’re starting out, keep your other hand on the gun, too.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, but make sure to keep your thumbs down so it doesn’t cut you when it cocks back.”

He shows me how to line up the gun with my line of sight and how to aim. I won’t be the next John Wick, but I did way better than I expected to do. The whole time he was easy-going and actually listened to what I said without judgment or frustration.

This is the first time I have gone deeper into the woods. I’m surprised to find out that they aren’t too deep, but they lead to a high cliff with a breathtaking view. Marco, Ace, and I sit near the ledge and I ask him how he ended up being a soldier. His body goes rigid for a split second then he visibly relaxes and speaks.

“I witnessed a man murder both of my parents right in front of me when I was ten.”

That was not what I was expecting, but I let him continue.

“He didn’t know I was there, but I saw everything. My dad kept a gun in his bedside drawer so I grabbed it and shot the man. I missed the first shot so I closed my eyes and kept shooting until there were no more bullets left. When I opened them,” he grimaces, “it looked like a bloodbath. I could already hear the sirens coming. I ran with the gun until my legs gave out. That’s when Luciano found me, sitting near a dumpster. He took me in that night and trained me under him. He was only twenty at the time, but he gave me food, a home, a purpose. Ever since then, I have been loyal to him. I owe him my life.”

Despite his eyes having a faraway look, he told the story impassively as if it wasn’t something important, or traumatizing at that.

“You were just a boy,” I whisper, but he holds a hand up.

“I won’t downplay it, but that’s in the past. All I have control over now is the present.”

Sensing he doesn’t want to go down that route, I veer the conversation in a different direction. “So Luciano was twenty and what? Boss of the mafia?”

He chuckles. “He was already settled into his role as capo, which he still is now. Renato is the don.”

“How old would that make you guys now?”

“I’m twenty-two but Luc is turning thirty-three soon. It’s a good thing he isn’t the don or else he would need to start looking for a wife.” At my puzzled expression, he adds, “They have weird rules here, but basically, he would need an heir and he doesn’t really believe in marriage.”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t drown himself in different girls every night,” I think out loud with a snort.

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