Page 61 of Stolen By The Bratva King

“Yes. Those assholes work for him; they were telling anyone who’d listen, the loose-lipped amateurs. I don’t understand why Dante would run such a risky operation. And why didn’t he skip town when you told him to? Surely he knew what’d happen if you found him hanging around.”

Correct.It doesn’t add up, but this is what happens when I get distracted.

I became obsessed with a sweet, beautiful woman and focused on making her mine. This is the inevitable outcome: chaos, bleeding into my world like ink on blotting paper, blighting the order with a dark, indelible stain.

So Dante Firenzeisbehind all this. I didn’t call it—I figured he was just the kind of idiot who’d sell a boat to those shady Sicilian fucks—but the revelation gives me an excuse to stay close to my wife, whether she likes it or not.

Dante despises me and Emery. A man is dead, and his friends know I’m the enemy; hurting my wife would be a compelling message, not to mention easy to do, given that she’s wandering around unguarded as we speak.

“Viktor, find out where that fucking boat goes.”

I pick up my coat, pulling it over my shoulder. “It must have a regular route or at least a docking schedule, or it wouldn’t be able to do business. And get on with it because, frankly, I’m sick of the whole subject.”

Viktor starts to ask me another question, but I hang up and pocket the phone.

I don’t give a fuck what Emery thinks, not anymore.

There was a time when I didn’t do enough to safeguard the people I loved, and I learned my lesson, so I installed covert tracking on her mobile as soon as I got my hands on it.

My protection is non-negotiable. And that’s why I have to go after her and bring her home, even if she fights me every step of the way.

It’s no surprise when I track Emery to a terraced cafe on The High Line, between 15th and 16th along 10th Avenue. The above-ground park is lush and peaceful, the kind of place I can imagine her going to unwind.

The cafe isn’t particularly busy; the tables are occupied mainly by tourists and couples enjoying matcha lattes, and the overhead patio heaters offset the worst of the chill now that the sun is long gone.

Then I see her.

Sitting low in her chair, a steaming mug in hand, her cheeks red from the cold. She’s lit up by the warm glow of the string lights, and despite her despondent expression, she’s as radiant as ever.

Opposite sits her father, Alec, his face animated as he talks.

I join the back of a small crowd of people queuing for the kiosk, my back to the terrace. A glance confirms that Emery is entirely wrapped up in her dad, her gaze fixed on him as she sips her drink.

I collect my coffee and retreat to a bench on the periphery of the seating area, partially shielded by some shrubbery.

This kind of surveillance is second nature to me, and despite the circumstances, I can’t deny it—watching her again gives me a thrill.

The encroaching darkness is my friend, giving me additional cover, and beyond the coverage of the lights, I’m merely a shadow.

My hand slides to the pistol at my hip. Snub-nosed and quick to draw, needing only economical movement to be ready to fire.

It’s rare for me to face an unknown threat. Fabrizio and his buddies were sloppy, but I can’t assume the whole crew will be.

Dante Firenze has gone from being a wealthy, entitled bully to a totally unpredictable factor. He’s humiliated and angry, yes, but he’s a fool if he thinks he can show his ass on my turf and get away with it.

I fear that he’ll kill Emery purely because he can, then flee before I have a chance to deal out the insane retribution that’ll come to pass if he so much as harms a hair on her head.

I sip my coffee. It’s too hot and burns my tongue, but I barely notice.

The darkness is not justmyfriend; it provides anonymity for any fucker with a nefarious plan. I should know—I’ve been the lurking menace many times.

I’m so fired up that I could end up shooting one of the goddamn servers when they bring the check.

I peer through a gap in the bushes to see Alec take Emery’s hand. She’s speaking, sadness plain on her face.

It looks like Emery and her father are trying to make amends. From what she said, Alec was too bent out of shape by his grief to help shepherd his daughter through hers.

Understandable and all too human; I’ve been there, too.

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