Page 1 of Burning Bridges

Chapter 1

LEO

Ilightupasmoke, blowing a puff out the window of my Mercedes AMG G 63, as my eyes leisurely roam down her body. She’s scorching hot in a tight little black pencil skirt and button-down blouse that shows off all her assets. She has always been the most attractive girl around. Too bad for me, she was born into one of the deadliest mafia families this side of LA and has always been totally unattainable.

Piper Acevedo isn’t a shy little wallflower like her daddy always hoped she would be. The perfect little housewife for the man of his choosing, like her mother. No. She’s a fierce powerhouse who holds herself with confidence and a sense of self-satisfaction as she works the floor of her hair and nail salon. Her staff admire her, while her clients feel reassured that they have secured an appointment at one of California’s most prestigious salons. Piper herself is known as one of the top color specialists in the country. I guess it’s her way of being creative. I always thought she would be an artist or pianist, but those professions probably didn’t align with her father’s vision for her life.

Yes, Piper is a very successful businesswoman, as well as one of the most magnificent creatures on the planet. She is also an Acevedo. That name alone is enough to make my fingers twitch with the desire to spill blood. She might not notice me, but our two families have been mortal enemies since the day her father destroyed my life.

Her salon sits alongside our town’s exclusive high-end boutiques and patisseries. With their sleek modern design in marble and gold trim, they give off that look-but-don’t-touch vibe, and so they should. This part of town isn’t for just your average Joe Blow looking to improve their appearance. You need a certain type of status to even set foot on this strip, one you can only get from being born into the right family. And luckily for her, she was.

Growing up, she had it all. Daddy’s money and the popularity that came with it. She was one of the blessed few. She didn't have any idea about the reality of what life was really like for kids who grew up like me. Kids who lived on the other side of Main Street in the rundown houses, their parents slaving away just to make ends meet. Like my father did. He worked as a supervisor in the old factory run by her father and the Stones.

We are polar opposites, me and this girl I can’t take my eyes off.

She takes a call and grabs her jacket, then struts out the front of her salon, pocketing her cell before looking up the street then back down toward Antonio’s, the Italian restaurant her family used to own. I sit back in my seat so I’m not as obvious. The street is busy, but my car is big enough that it sticks out like a sore thumb. If she looked hard enough, she would know I was here, but I’m not overly concerned about her seeing me today. I don’t have to be. As usual, I’m invisible to her. Just another black SUV in a line-up of cars parked along the street, and her eyes don’t give me the time of day. I’m nothing to her. Nothing worth noticing, anyway. Even though in her current situation, I should be the only thing she's worried about.

I narrow my eyes as I watch her move quickly down the street, turning the corner down an alley. Slipping out of my car, I follow her, standing far enough away that I’m not obvious but close enough I can see the way the stretchy fabric of her skirt clings to her ass as she walks in her heeled boots.

As a teenager, I was fixated on every little detail about her, from the way she looked to the way she moved, talked with friends, ate her lunch, the list could go on. She was the princess of the underworld—and the most perfect girl I had ever laid eyes on. I used to be obsessed with her, watching her from afar as she consumed my every thought. I couldn't get enough of her, even though I knew she could never be mine. I wanted her more than anything in life.

That was until the night of the fire, when my father died and cured me of my unfortunate fixation with her.

Now, I still watch her from the shadows, but not because of a silly teenage crush on an unattainable girl. We're at war, and I know she can't be trusted. She's smarter and more calculating than her brother ever gave her credit for, and I'm certain she's biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike and take back what she thinks she deserves. Then she'll destroy me, just as I destroyed her family. Unlike her, though, I'll be ready. I'm at the top now, and I won't give it up for anyone, no matter how cute they look in black stilettos.

She stops walking at the end of the alleyway and waits impatiently, tapping her boot on the pavement. Her arms are folded over her chest, and her pretty features are hardened with a glare that can only mean one thing: someone has made her angry. A Kawasaki Vulcan slowly pulls into the alley from the other end, not far from where she waits. I take a photo of the license plate so my brother Jett, who heads our organization's security, can run it for me later. He's a whiz on the internet and also happens to be one of the best MMA fighters in America.

The familiar older man, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, removes his helmet and moves quickly across the alleyway toward her. I clench my fist, wondering if he's someone I'll need to sort out. Not that Piper can't take care of herself — a few years back, I witnessed her knock a guy on his ass just for asking if he could buy her a drink. He should have known better. Bike guy looks over his shoulder, scanning his periphery for any onlookers. He looks twitchy as hell, and that alone tells me he's up to no good. Finding no one, he returns his attention to her.

I praise my ability to hide so well in the shadows. If I don't want to be seen, I won't be, especially not from greasy old fuckers like Gator—because that's who this motherfucking asshole is. An ex-Acevedo gang member. What the fuck is he doing talking to her? Every past member who's still alive and now works for our organization has been warned to stay the hell away from Piper Acevedo if they want to keep their limbs attached. But that memo must have slipped past this particular fuckwit.

Heated words are exchanged between the two of them, followed by her slapping him sharply across the face. He stands there and takes her verbal abuse as she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, screaming in his face, something about her not being able to trust anyone, including friends of her father’s.

When she turns and storms away from him and back toward her salon, the look on her face is murderous. Gator doesn't follow her, just watches her walk away with a shake of his head and a scowl. He pulls on his helmet, speeding off down the road, his tires screeching as he takes the corner faster than he should. Maybe he's smarter than I gave him credit for. If he had tried to retaliate in any way, I wouldn’t be leaving it to my brother to deal with him. I would have made sure he never spoke to Piper or anyone else again.

She might be my enemy, but she is also mine to protect. She just doesn't know it.

She straightens out her tight pencil skirt and runs her hands over her seamlessly constructed high ponytail. There isn’t a hair out of place, like I would expect from her. She's a perfectionist in everything she does, and that extends to her appearance. A moment is all it takes for her to compose herself, then she's back through the front door, calling instructions to the girls who work for her.

There aren't many people, men or women, who would take on Piper when she's in a rotten mood, and for good reason. She might have been a sweet girl when I first officially met her at age fifteen, all innocent, with big brown doe eyes, and caring for those around her. But she grew into her family name, just like the men in her family. Now she is cold and calculating, and she would do whatever it takes to claw her way back up. Yeah, I know I'm on the top of Piper's hit list. It's another good reason to keep a tight leash on her whereabouts at all times. It also has an unfortunate side effect. The more I see of her, the more my fascination intensifies, a fixation I had a hold on until her brother Tony conveniently killed himself, leaving her alone to fend for herself. It forced me to get involved earlier than I planned to take my place at the top.

I hop back into my car and call my brother Jett. "Need you to pick someone up for me. Gator, he's on a Kawasaki Vulcan heading south from Piper’s Beauty Retreat."

"Sure. What's he done?"

"Met with Piper in a back alley down from her salon."

"Do you think she's trying to get the ex-Acevedos to turn on us? We knew it was only a matter of time before she tried something. I'm surprised it's taken her this long."

"I don't know, that's why I want to have a chat with him."

"You won't have to wait long to find out. Guess who just walked into The Joker." He laughs.

"I'll be there in ten. Keep him there." I hang up, turn my key in the ignition, and speed up the road.

That was convenient. A little too much so. What the hell is this guy playing at?

I arrive at our bar and park in the back. As I walk through the swinging door, I feel the energy of the room shift toward me. It's midday and the usual crowd is hanging around, shooting the shit and drinking beer. I'm used to the attention my new role brings me. I don't bother making eye contact with any of them, just head straight through to the back office. Gator is in the middle of the room, perched on a bar stool. Jett leans with his hip against the desk, leering at him in disgust. He raises his brow when he sees me enter, amused at how easy his job has been today.

---