Page 39 of Risky Vows

"This sleazeball of a renter owes them two hundred grants in back rent. With Alonzo out of the picture and the rumors about Enzo's headspace swirling, they didn't care. Ugo's threats weren't enough to make them pay."

I grab my jacket and leave. The cut we're getting from the Montefiores is good, but work has kept me busy. Amara has mentioned she'd love to go on a real honeymoon with me, but every time we check, we're both booked for the next few months.She's also got a lot going with her nonprofit launching in a few weeks.

I'm proud of her. She spearheaded the project every step of the way. For someone so sheltered by her parents, she's showing good business skills and vision. Maybe her good deeds will spill over to me, and I'll get a shorter stay in hell after I die.

The thought amuses me.

I get into the car with Tom at the wheel, and we drive through a rougher part of Chicago. I'd usually send people instead of myself, but since I've taken over the Montefiore turfs, I like to be seen a few times before I delegate orders. I show my face and let people know who they're dealing with.

Tom parks at the curb, and I slide out of the car. Two extra bodyguards pop out of the car and follow behind me. I'm taking no chances.

I barge into the building, striding to the second door to the left. I see a man standing by the door. He recognizes me and nods.

He opens the door for me, and I scan the room. A half-naked woman snorts coke off a table in the poorly lit corner. The man in the large room cocks his head.

Tony Short. The name suits him. He’s five foot five of douchery.

"I see you have some debt, Tony."

Tony stands and offers his hand, but I decline. His eyes are bugged like he recently snorted a line, and his mousy brown hair is due a cut. "Mr. Gallo. What an honor. I would have cleaned up if I knew you were coming." He gestures for me to sit, but I remain standing.

I jam my hand in my pocket. "No need. I just want my money."

He lifts his hands in a silent plea for patience. "It's coming, sir. It's been an eventful month."

I erase the distance between us. The man smells gross—a mix of body odor and too much cologne. "I understand Mr. Montefiore was sick and became a little lax when collecting the money you owe. But I assure you my strategy is not the same. If you want to keep all your limbs, you'll pay."

He nods violently, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Of course. Give me two weeks. I'll pay."

I frown. This scumbag has been on a free ride for months, carrying on illegal activities in this place that could easily land him in jail. Does he think I'm stupid? I catch him by the collar and slam him against the wall. "Why the hell would I be so generous?"

He gasps, his eyes widen, and full-on despair crosses his face. He knows I could end him in under a minute. "Because… I have some information that may hold you over, sir."

"What kind?" I ask without letting go of his collar. Good lord, his breath stinks almost as bad as he smells. That's his biggest weapon, for sure. In the wild, some animals avoid predators with their scent alone.

He moves his arms nervously. "This lady I was seeing. She worked as a maid at the Montefiore's. Was fired a couple of weeks ago when she was caught stealing."

I loosen my hold on him, interested in where he's going with this. "Reliable source. Go on."

"Well, she was pissed, and a few nights ago, she told me that the son, Alonzo, woke up from the coma.”

I let go of him and step back. If this loser wants to shock me, he has. A chilling sensation spills into my stomach. How could this be? Amara would have mentioned it to me. "Are you sure? He’s been in a coma for a while," I say calmly.

"He's woken up from the coma. I guarantee you."

I swallow. "What?"

"Yes. The staff was told to keep it under wraps. The dude was taken to a place in New York to recover. She thinks he's returning to care for his father's stuff. And if he does, I want to be in a good spot with you, Mr. Gallo."

I pop my knuckles, anger rising inside me. I know what this loser is doing—sharing information to buy himself more time or a discount on his debt. What bothers me is the information he's sharing with so much confidence.

My guts twist in knots that not even a skilled Marine could untangle.

Amara lied to me. All those times she's talked to her mom on the phone or visited her family home… it's been a lie. Betrayal.

She's been keeping her brother's recovery a secret. She's been helping her family—after all they've done to her. I thought our marriage was going well despite the circumstances that caused it. But I've been played… the whole fucking time.

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