Page 2 of Burning Bridges

Why this fucker thought he could show up at our establishment is beyond me, but I guess he was also brazen enough to think he could talk to Piper in broad daylight and not get caught. "Gator, how nice of you to drop by our fine establishment today." I scrutinize every little detail of his now bleeding face, wondering why he thought he could get away with doing anything behind our backs and then show up here to what? Confess his sins before we hunted him down? Or was he really stupid enough to think we wouldn't know what he was up to today and he was just here for a drink?

"I... Jett... You—" he chokes out.

"You might want to speak up, man," Jett snarls, up in his face. "We can't understand you when you're mumbling. Remember, we already learned that lesson the hard way." Jett grabs the front of his shirt, lifting him so he's forced to look at me. Jett's not big on talking, and it looks like he has taken it upon himself to communicate the only way he knows how—with his fists.

"How about I get you started. You're here to confess, aren't you? Because you respect the Riveras' new rules, and you want to keep your job with us. So tell me, why were you meeting Ms. Acevedo today?" I ask.

His worried eyes flick to me, then back to Jett. "She needed help," he mutters quickly, licking the blood from his freshly split lip.

I narrow my eyes on him. He's a disgrace of a man really, red-faced and overweight from years of beer drinking, with a wiry beard and shifty eyes that give him away as the liar he is. He's the type of guy who has gotten by leeching off the success of others, and I know if he was meeting with her today, it wasn't because she needed something from him. "And you, being the stellar guy you are, wanted to be a knight in shining armor for the princess, did you?"

I arch an eyebrow sardonically, indicating that I don't believe a word that comes out of Gator's mouth. Even when Ace was alive, this guy was nothing but a plebe ordered to watch the door of his infamous nightclub, Queen of Hearts. If Piper had even bothered to look in his direction before today, I would be surprised. He would hardly be the person she would go to if she needed help.

"No, that's why I was there, to tell her I can't help. I have enough financial problems of my own. I'm not hiding anything from you guys. I came down here on my own, didn't I?" Gator responds.

"She was after money?" I reply, feigning surprise. Anyone with half a brain would know she's dealing with a financial nightmare since the way her brother left things for the Acevedo empire. This isn't new information, but I am curious to know why it's the angle he's going with.

"She said she's about to lose the family house. She thought I could help because I knew her brother," Gator says, but I know he must be lying. There is no way she would be asking for financial help from the likes of him. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Why did she think she could come to you?" I ask, making Gator shift uncomfortably as he tries to come up with a lie to save himself.

"She's done it before," he admits. "Before Ace died, I helped her out a couple of times. But things are different now," he adds quickly. I'm not sure if he means because we put a stop to the lucrative drug operation he was helping Ace run or if it's because he has been told what happens to anyone who even talks to her.

"If Ms. Acevedo is really in as much trouble as she tells you, she knows where to come for help," I say, indicating that she should come to me. She hates it, but she knows I'm the only one with the power to help her these days. And I would be more than happy to add it to what she already owes me. What's a little more debt when you already owe so much?

I glare in Gator's direction, wondering what I should do with this piece of shit. I'm not going to learn anything new from him today, and I could let Jett work his magic and ease it out of him slowly the best way he knows how, but I have a feeling Gator is better off back out on the streets leading us to the truth. Scum like this always are.

"Don't get caught talking to her again, or you'll get more than a warning," I say to Gator, motioning for Jett to kick him out. I'm sick of the sight of him. I make eye contact with Jett, letting him know I want him tracked from now on.

Jett removes him from the room, and I sit down at my desk, running a quick search of Gator's name. He's a nobody. I can't for the life of me understand why she would be meeting with him, but from what I could see, it was a planned meeting, or she wouldn't have been waiting in the alleyway. I'll get Jett to do a more in-depth search when he's back. He's our computer genius, able to hack just about anything he likes with the click of a finger. If you're hiding something from us, we will work out what it is. And Gator is hiding something from us. He might have come in here looking for me with his tail between his legs, but there is no way his story was 100 percent legit. I could see it in his eyes.

The search yields the usual information, a few personal details, but nothing substantial to work with.

Jett slams the door shut. “That guy is sketchy as hell.”

“I agree.” I rise from my seat, allowing him to take over the desk. I have other matters to attend to today before I return for the pinnacle of my week: collecting rent from the princess herself. “Do your thing. I want every bit of intel you can find on him and why he was truly meeting with Piper today. Also, try to determine the extent of her financial troubles while you're at it.”

He sits down, already engrossed in his virtual world, typing away on the keyboard. “Got it. I'll let you know if I uncover anything noteworthy.”

I leave him to it.

I may have the support of influential families like the Stones, the Harpers, and the Rivera boys under my command, but the one person I desire control over the most, Princess Piper, is still playing her own game. And currently, she is up to something.

Chapter 2

PIPER

AsIpullmyfather's old den apart, crazy thoughts race through my head. Dark, disturbed, sinister plans of how I can get myself out of the latest trouble my brother left me to deal with. I'm starting to lose control, I can feel it, my body trembling with frustration. How is this my life? Dust fills the air, causing me to sneeze. This space has remained untouched for years, out of respect for my father. God only knows why he deserves mine or anyone else's admiration. But even in death, he has us all scared. Until today, that is, when my desperation hit a new peak.

This morning, I thought I had my issue sorted, thought I had a solution to get us through at least the next few weeks, but instead, it turned out to be one of the most stupid things I think I have ever done. I made us even more vulnerable when I turned to an old friend of my father's. But when even the slimy lowlife crooks won't help you out in your time of need—unless of course, you plan on selling them your soul in return—you realize how truly fucked you are. And I am fucked.

The bookshelves have been cleared, and the desk drawers are tipped upside down, their contents scattered all over the Persian rug. Next, I kick everything aside and go for the rug, pulling it back to reveal a dark stain. My stomach rolls, knowing what that stain is from. "You fucking piece of shit, Tony," I curse my brother again.

I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. I loved him, but Tony, my older brother by two years, was a prick of a human at the best of times. Despite that, until he died two years ago, he was also the person I was closest to. The only other person who understood what torment I went through growing up with our father, the head of this area's underworld dealings. A family where power and money were the only important commodities, and the concept of love was for the delusional, like my poor mother. Today, more than ever, I wish Tony was here to help me. He would know what to do; he always did.

He is also the reason I'm now so well and truly screwed that I'm about to turn up to my worst enemy, the man with the power to end me today, short on the cash I owe him.

"Is everything okay?" I hear my mother's slurred words. She stands in the doorway, using the frame to prop up her frail body. She hasn't bothered to get dressed today and is in the same silk robe she had on when I left for work this morning. She's also clinging onto a half-empty glass of white wine like her life depends on it.

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