Page 23 of Savage Mafia King

He shoots me a look, clearly not impressed with my suggestion, but I promise to pay him extra for his time. That seems to be all it takes, and he heads out toward the lecture hall I'm supposed to be sitting in later. Sure, it doesn't start for another hour or so, but it's better than sitting around here and trying to pretend that I can handle the mess of emotions that's flooding through me right now. I don't want any of my sisters to see me like this—lost and hung up on a guy.

I need to protect my reputation. Because what happens next with Marcus could dictate how the rest of my life is going to unfold.

And I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

Chapter Eleven—Marcus

"You're sure?"

Giovanni holds the cold compress to his jaw, wincing as it comes into contact with the swollen wound on his chin. He nods.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It was him. I'd recognize him anywhere. It was James."

I suck in a sharp breath. I can't fucking believe this. James? Our uncle? Working with the Castellanos? I don't know what to make of it, but I believe Giovanni completely. What good would it do for him to lie to me?

Valentina is pacing back and forth across the floor of the living room in their mansion, her head down, her lips moving slightly as though she's trying her best to understand something. The sound of her footsteps is grinding deep into my head, but I figure she needs some way to blow off the steam after what just happened.

Gio gave me a rundown of the story when I got here. He was walking back from the bar last night when he was jumped by a handful of men, one of them with a Castellano patch on his jacket. He managed to just about fight them off, but when they made a break for it, he noticed that they were fleeing to a car that carried someone he recognized—our uncle, James.

James has never exactly been close to the family, living in another city most of his life. I always figured it was because he didn't want anything to do with the criminal shit that we're involved in, but now, it's obvious he's willing to get his hands dirty.

"You think he's working with them?" Valentina demands, her voice taut.

I know she's worried about her brother but about herself, too. She's not exactly free from any danger here. She's the one who convinced Giovanni to call me about this, worried that if we let it slide for too long, our uncle might make a more violent move against us.

"I don't see any other reason he'd be in that car, ready to speed them off after they attacked me," Giovanni spits out.

"But why would our own uncle want to kill you?"

"He didn't want to kill him," I cut in. "It was a message. They're making sure that we're scared and running. They want us doubting ourselves. And I would guess that they wanted us to see James as part of this, too."

"But why?" Giovanni asks, shaking his head. "Why would they want us to know about him?"

"Because it gets us doubting each other," I reply. "If a member of our own family would turn against us like that, then there's nobody we can trust."

A heavy silence falls over the room, and the three of us glance around at each other. I know what they're all thinking. They're wondering if we really can trust one another. I'm pretty sure that Gio and Valentina have always been on the same side as me, but shit, life isn't always as clear as that. Maybe...

No. No fucking doubts. James is the one who's betrayed us. And I'm not going to let myself get pulled into the bullshit of wondering whether someone else might be working against us.

"I'm going to find him," I tell them as I head for the door. "What kind of car did you see, Giovanni?"

"Black, looked like a Merc," he replies quickly. "There were a few numbers I saw on the plate, L, 6, and 9."

That should be enough to go on. I pull on my coat and stalk out before either of them can say anything to me. They want this resolved just as much as I do, and I'm not going to wait around for him to make another strike against us.

After climbing into the car, I start to search the city, looking for a vehicle that matches the description of the one Gio saw our uncle in. My mind is reeling as I drive. Why would he do this? Does it have something to do with the death of their parents? He was their mother's brother, as far as I know, but he barely even knew them. He didn't even come to the funeral. What would he be doing here now?

I grip the wheel tight as I skim my eyes back and forth, looking for this Merc that he's driving. I start with all the best hotels in the city, figuring that he would have gone for something expensive—or that the Castellanos would have put him up somewhere like that, to show him that they can be trusted. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of any member of our family working against us like this, but that's what they want. They want to sow dissent in our ranks, and I'm not going to let that happen. Not a fucking chance.

Finally, as I turn the corner and cruise past the parking lot of the Royal Hotel on Henshaw Avenue, I spot it, a car that looks just like the one Gio described. I screech to a halt and peer at the plate. The numbers and letters match what he told me. It has to be him. No way would someone else be staying here and driving a car like that just by coincidence.

And sure enough, as I'm about to throw open the door and dart outside, I see him—James. My heart drops. Some part of me hoped that all of this was some kind of mistake, that nobody who shared our blood could have done something as heinous as this.

But the grit in his jaw and the anger in his eyes, I can tell that he's out for blood. Whose, I don't know exactly. But I'm going to find out.

I stride toward him, intercepting him before he can get to his car. I don't care if he's alone, I don't care if anyone sees me. Blind rage takes over, and all that matters is making him pay for what he did.

"James, you fucking bastard!" I grab him by the lapels and slam him against the car.

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