Page 1 of Unlawful Seduction

CHAPTER 1

Michaelangelo

If there was one thing worse than a rat, it was a thief.

Boom!

I kicked in the door, smashing a portion of the wood into slivers. The sharp scream was cut off the moment I stormed inside. I’d been ordered to kill someone who’d openly betrayed the Valenti Crime Syndicate. A fucking drug addict who’d stolen both money and close to one hundred thousand dollars’ worth of heroin from the stash.

That wasn’t acceptable and Don Lucian Valenti had ordered her killed.

He trusted me as he’d done for years to handle the situation. I relished the thought, damn good at what I did.

While I wasn’t into killing women, from what I’d been told, she’d sold her own child for a fix. That made me disgusted. As of today, Teresa Markum would no longer exist. The only difference inhow I handled her was I’d make it quick instead of enjoying myself as I normally did in my capacity as the mafia’s enforcer.

And soon to be given the high honor of becoming the Underboss. One step away from accepting the promised throne.

“You remind me of myself at your age,” Lucian said as he offered me a scotch. “Bold. Without a conscience. Ruthless. And fucking smart. You’re going to be a great leader when I retire.”

The thought of leading such a powerful group of men and some women in the heart of New York was thrilling. However, that meant I also had a target on my back. There were plenty of soldiers eager to snuff out my life for a chance at fame and fortune. I chuckled from the thought as I advanced.

I wasn’t certain what I’d expected in seeing the house, but the neat, cozy feeling of the place was the first red flag that the information I’d been provided was wrong. Trap houses, homes partaking in the sale of drugs, were never neat and tidy. They stunk to high heaven of piss and shit, vomit and body odor. They were dirty and disorganized.

Not bright and welcoming.

Almost everything had a place, the feeling of a cozy and loved home apparent in every picture on the wall and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon in the air.

The street where she lived was a known drug hotspot, most houses ripped apart, pieces of copper and appliances sold for a quick fix.

But this house was lived in, a true home.

I moved toward the woman, expecting her to scream again. She stood in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter. The aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the tiny room. There was a box of noodles ready for the water that was boiling on the stove, a loaf of freshly baked bread on the counter.

She was in a pair of jeans and a nice tee shirt. There was no sign of drug paraphernalia anywhere that I’d seen.

Her eyes were wide open and she was staring directly at the handgun I had placed in both hands, the barrel pointed at her head. When those same eyes darted to the refrigerator, I allow my gaze to follow.

What the fuck?

There were pictures on the sides of the fridge under magnets, all drawn with crayon by a talented but very young child.

“Please. Don’t hurt my baby. I beg you. I don’t know who you are, but he’s all I have. I’ll do anything.”

An icy feeling swept through my veins. I’d been lied to.

That second we both heard little feet racing into the room and she threw out her arm in another attempt to plead for his safety. I shoved the weapon behind my back with one hand while placing a finger across my lips and nodding.

“Mama. I’m hungwy. Can we eat?” The little boy couldn’t have been more than three or four.

She swallowed, trying to smile, constantly flicking her gaze from her son back to me. “Hey, baby. Mommy has some company. Can you go back to your room for me and play for just a few more minutes?”

The little boy turned toward me, standing straight and walking with total purpose toward me. When he stuck out his little hand, a moment of rage tore through me. “I’m Jake. I’m twee years old and Mama calls me her wittle man.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” I said as I accepted his handshake as I bent over more to his level. His hand felt so tiny in mine. “I’m sure your mother is happy you take care of her.”

He nodded emphatically before giggling and pulling his hand away. He blew his mother a kiss and turned, running full speed back to his room.

When I shifted my attention back to the woman, I noticed a picture on the tiny credenza. I stormed toward it, jerking the frame into my hand.

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