Page 82 of Owen (Storm Enterprises)

“You did,” he confirms in a monotone voice that leads me to believe he barely cares about the memory card. This piques my interest, and I sit forward.

“What is it you want? You never asked me if I made a copy of the files on there.”

He appears completely unperturbed. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Annoyance rumbles in my chest at the game he’s playing. “Okay? You don’t care about the fucking memory card, so why are we here?”

He sits back lazily in his chair and diverts his gaze toward the desk, no longer looking at me. “I need you to deliver a package.”

My head rears back. “A package?”

“That’s what I fucking said,” he snaps, and it startles Romeo, causing him to whimper, and I ball my hands into fists while gritting my teeth.

My nostrils flare as I struggle to rein in my temper, yet Azrael appears completely stoic.

“I need you to deliver a package for me,” he repeats, slower this time.

“You caused all this for a fucking package?” I keep my tone measured and wave my hand toward my son as irritation coats my skin.

Azrael’s eyes hold mine, and realization hits me.

He’s into the skin trade.

“A person. You want me to traffic a human?” Nausea creeps up my throat, and I stroke over my jaw to push away the discomforting feeling of wanting to vomit.

“Not traffic a human. I said deliver a package.” The vein on his neck pulsates, and his arm tightens around my son. In that moment, I realize Azrael Carrera has a weakness.

“A girl?”

Awareness flashes in his eyes, and I know I hit the nail on the head.

“I need you to keep her secure.” His dark eyes remain latched on mine as he allows me to see beyond the mask he portrays to the world. “I need you to use your contacts.”

He knows I have links within the Mafia world, and he wants me to keep her safe using those links.

“Okay.” I relent with ease.

“Okay? Just like that?” He tilts his head, as if analyzing me.

A humorless laugh leaves me. “You hold my son’s life in your arms, Azrael, and my girl’s. I’d do anything for them.” I lean forward. “One day you might do the same.” He cocks his head, and I go on. “A deal with the devil for a chance of happiness.”

He swallows. “I just did.” His words are barley a whisper, but I didn’t miss them, nor do I have a chance to analyze them because he pushes back in his chair and stands. Then he holds my son out toward me, and I’ve never felt anything like it when I lift him into my arms.

I bury my head into his soft hair and breathe him in. “You’re safe, buddy.” His little heart beats against mine, and the comfort from that has me wanting to break down and cry, but instead, I clear my throat and just hold him tighter. “Daddy’s here.”

Azrael’s right-hand man opens the door, and I step out into the warehouse, only now noticing the lifeless body of Brynn lying in a pool of blood.

“Oh, my God!” Laya screeches, and I lift my head to face my girl rushing toward me, and when her arms wrap around my waist, I embrace it with the knowledge that the Carrera family have a war on their hands, and not one involving me.

I’m about to do a deal with the devil himself, but I do so willingly, prepared to do anything for my family.

FORTY-ONE

OWEN

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