Page 15 of Her Dark Salvation

“Neither do you.”

Also true. And why Vito Balistreri was my consigliere.

I wanted that property. Bad. That end of the city was a cash cow waiting to be milked, and I’d be damned before I let the Irish get their hands on it. A few clerks we had on payroll down at city hall tipped us off that someone from Shaughnessy’s crew had been poking around, asking questions. Word on the street was the Irish were looking to expand their gambling rackets. No gang had set foot in that part of the city. Not yet. I was determined to turn the financial district into an Italian stronghold. But I couldn’t do it without the capital to make the multi-million-dollar deal.

“We need to find out if they’re behind that leak. If they’ve got someone on the inside. If we’ve got a fucking snake.”

“That’s why you hired the expert, boss. Patience.”

My phone vibrated. I glanced at the illuminated screen. A new encrypted email from my cybersecurity officer, a paranoid recluse Jeff found for me after the guy’d gotten himself kicked out of MIT for hacking their records database.

Anna Barone Dossier

I didn’t like being caught off guard, and finding out Dr. Barone was a woman had caught me off guard.

Aside from the cybersecurity position, Jeff took care of my contracts himself. He understood the importance of discretion and anonymity in my line of business. Not to mention he owed me no small debt for past favors. I trusted Jeff, and Jeff trusted her. That went a long way, but not far enough. I’d ordered the workup as soon as he’d informed me he was bringing in an expert.

Better late than never.

Advanced degrees. Awards. I scrolled through pages of publications, guest lectures. A single headshot used for papers, conferences, and… her department website? A tenured professor at MIT’s Sloan School?

Pictures from what looked like Jeff and Michael’s wedding. A recent photo with an older couple in Rome. Her parents?

At first glance, accomplished and under the radar. No red flags. Perfect.

Strange, though. No marriages, no children, not so much as a single picture with a boyfriend.

She was an attractive woman. Straight, chestnut hair cascaded past her shoulders. Its rich, silky sheen reached her mid-back. Thick eyelashes accented the almond shape of her light brown eyes. The softness of her Mediterranean complexion was blessed with two beauty marks on her right cheekbone, and wisdom was etched in lines across her forehead and around the bow of her full, rosy lips.

Petite with delicious curves, the red sweater she’d worn had barely contained the swell of her breasts, and her tight skirt had stretched around a plump ass. My hand fisted.

I put the phone back in my pocket and glanced out the window. I’d waited too long. I needed to feed. Or fuck. Probably both. I stretched my neck from side to side.

We rumbled down a cobbled side street on the outskirts of the North End. The flicker of poorly maintained streetlights hid the sidewalks in shadow. A few pedestrians walked with their heads down, hands shoved into pockets against the cold.

At the intersection, the hurried movement of silhouettes caught my eye. I narrowed my focus to an alcove dimly lit by the stoplight’s red glow, and through the steam rising from a nearby sewer grate, shadows solidified into men. They grappled between the two buildings, one noticeably larger than the other. The big guy slammed the little guy into the side of a building and landed a fist in his gut. The little guy slid down the brick until he sat slumped, dazed or unconscious—I couldn’t be sure. A gust of wind cleared the steam long enough for me to see Big Guy rifling through Little Guy’s coat.

“Goddammit,” I muttered under my breath.

The stoplight turned green, and Vito pulled forward.

“Stop the car!”

I was halfway out the door when Vito hit the brakes. Anger propelled me forward, and my eyes flared to life. I lowered the brim of my hat to mask their demonic glow. Luckily, the two men hadn’t noticed the devil approaching.

The attacker’s arms bulged against his puffy coat, and a tight knit cap made his head look like a cue ball, tiny atop a thick neck. He dragged the victim to his feet, pushed him into the wall, and went for his back pocket.

Little Guy grunted, his swollen, bloodied face flat against the red brick. I lifted my head, and his hooded eyes widened when they met mine. He slammed them shut, and my fangs descended to their full length in an angry sneer.

I tore the mugger off his victim and tossed him across the alcove. He hit the brick wall with a grunt, and I positioned myself between him and Little Guy. Little Guy tried to stumble toward the street but failed. He slumped against the building and spewed his guts onto the sidewalk.

Big Guy cracked his neck, flexed his hands, and launched off the building, coming at me like a linebacker. His shoulder rammed into my middle and knocked the wind out of me. He was a big fucker, I’d give him that, but for every ounce of muscle he had, he was short a few brain cells. He wrapped his arms around my torso, leaving my arms free. Big mistake.

I drove my fist into the side of his meaty head. It was an odd angle, but I had more than twice the strength of an average human, and even with his thick skull, that had to hurt. He released me and staggered back, unsteady, and I took the opportunity to catch my breath.

He recovered quicker than I’d anticipated, and his ruddy face was twisted with hatred. Not too smart, he came at me again, this time with his fists up.

My eyes flared, eager for a fight.

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