Page 45 of Petrichor

He went to see two other studios to rent during the week—he didn’t say where he was going, Jo told me—and I sent Carlo toconvincethe owners not to accept Fly’s application. I don’t see why he’s being so stubborn. But I know why I’m insisting.

We finally got some new information about Fly. No record of any family in Boston. He had health problems when he was a kid; we don’t know what kind since the clinic he went to burned down with all the patients’ files in it. He didn’t finish high school but obtained a GED two years later. Worked different small jobs and started his underclothes business only six months ago. But the thing that left me perplexed and suspicious all over again is that he lived in Boston with a woman named Nicole Bailey until she died a couple of years back. Not a relative. But she moved from New York and used to live in our turf. Is he from New York as well?

I search inside my head, but the surname Locke doesn’t ring a bell. Seb told me he will get more info after I told him Fly had a brother, but he’s taking his sweet fucking time with it. I’m suspicious of anybody, especially after what happened with Delia, but this time with Fly is different. There’s something bothering me, something on the back of my mind that keeps poking at me. Something that doesn’t want him to distance himself from me. I find my eyes searching for his lean body and round ass as I cook or smoke, thinking about the way he smiles and tilts his head on the side when he talks to me, how he moans as he swallows my cum.

Just like now. I’m in one of our warehouses, using my gold knuckles on a dick’s face, so why is my mind shifting to Fly?

I sock the dick in the jaw.Sex always complicates things.Another punch.Those damn imploring, pale eyes.And another.And that fucking Hoover-like mouth of his.

I’ve never felt pleasure like this. How can I get it up for amanat thirty-eight? When it never happened before?

My arm is starting to hurt. I stop and look at Luca sitting on the chair near the door, eyes on his phone. He has a muscular body, sharp face, crooked nose, thick eyebrows, long dark brown hair. Nothing. I don’t feel a fucking thing for him. I move my eyes to the other guys standing guard near the metal door. It’s a cemetery inside my pants.

Why only Fly? What I know is that he stands out. Everywhere he goes, he makes people take notice, just like butterflies do. A pretty butterfly. Not a fucking fly.

I grit my teeth against my distracting thoughts and land another hard one. Work. Focus!

The dick, Denny, is our fish company accountant’s assistant—which we use to launder money from our loan shark business. I made him bleed from every hole on his face. The sight doesn’t make me feel better.

“He’s out.” Luca’s voice comes from behind me. “Vented enough?”

“Not even close.” I fucking hate snakes inside our gardens. They remind me of my past mistakes. They need to suffer, agonize under my hands before I take their excuse of a life away.

I slap the guy hard on the cheek, making him blink, dim blue eyeslook blurrily at me. The thick chains around his wrists clink as they keep him hanging from the ceiling.

The warehouse stinks like rotten fish and decayed wood. It’s near the docks, and it’s used daily to store fish before it’s sent to restaurants and shops. The four cold rooms help keep dead bodies chilled as well, before we call a disposer—a professional who’s hired to make bodies disappear.

I grab the dick’s chin and yank his face up. “We know you cooked the books. The strange thing is you didn’t skim money. It would’ve actually been better if you just stole from us.”

“Instead, you altered the company's financial statements and hid some profits and losses.” Luca cuts in. “Overstating revenue, failing to record expenses, and misstating assets and liabilities. All ways to commit accounting fraud.”

“Looks like you were trying to get us investigated by the FBI for corporate fraud.”

“That’s not true, I-I swear.” He whimpers as crocodile tears fall from his swollen eyes.

“You swear?” I shove his face back until it hits the pile of wooden crates behind him. The liar moans. We have fucking proof it was him. “Shut up and tell me why.”

“I don’t—” he sobs.

“Stop wasting my time and talk, or I’ll let Scarface have a go at you.”

I hear Luca’s angry growl—directed at me since he hates that nickname, but it always scares the shit out of people. He appears near me with a knife in his hand. It’s not big, but quite sharp.

“Last chance.” I slap him. “Who do you work for?”

“I can’t. I’m dead if I tell you.”

“You’re dead either way, Denny. The only way you’ll get out of here is with cement shoes.”

He cries out, letting snot come out of his nose while his head falls to the side in defeat. I don’t feel any kind of compassion. We let him inside our family, gave him trust and a good job, and he tried to fuck us over. He’ll pay for his betrayal with his life. He should have known that the Leones don’t fuck around.

“Nothing to say?” I ask him in a bored tone after a few seconds. When he doesn’t reply, I wave at Luca.

“Not your fucking dog!” he hisses at me—who’s touchy now?

He plunges the knife into one of the wooden crates behind Denny, nicking his ear. The dickhead starts shaking, weeping like a baby just born.

The tip of the blade is stuck in the wood as Luca ties his hair in a half ponytail. He hates when strands get into his eyes while he’sworkingon someone.

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