Page 21 of Vicious Savage

He rules Seattle with a fair but iron fist, and he’s taken his business to such heights that he has every organization worth its weight under his thumb. By the time Attila stops talking, I’m in awe of the enigmatic man who seems more legend than human.

And this is entirely why I am floored when the plane touches down and the man himself walks off the plane. I know without being told that it’s him by the way he carries himself and the way the air shifts around him. Almost like it’s parting to make way for him. It’s easy to understand why so many have joined the Dante Accardi fan club. The man breathes power. Then he exhales it like a dragon does fire. He’s larger than life as he steps off the plane and walks easily down the stairs, his suit jacket flapping in the breeze. He’s flanked by several men, who stay an arm’s length distance away from him. There’s a casual yet reserved air about him as he walks toward us and shakes Attila’s hand then takes mine as we are introduced.

“You’re the man who saved my brother’s life,” he says, smiling, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I hear that’s reserved only for his significant other.

“By default,” I correct.

“Yes, I heard that, too. But you saved his life nonetheless, and I’m grateful.”

Dante and Caleph grew up together. And when Caleph’s parents were murdered, by Castillo, no less, Durian Accardi took Caleph under his wing and made him the best version of himself before he allowed him to go out into the big wide world on his own. This is how Dante and Caleph came to refer to each other as brothers.

I nod in acknowledgement, but I’m humbled. That a great man such as himself should be thanking me. A former construction manager who found himself on the wrong side of the law after his wife was murdered.

It’s Attila who breaks the moment, stepping forward as he directs his words toward Dante.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, and he’s almost defensive about Dante’s presence. Almost as though he feels like Dante was sent to babysit him so he doesn’t get into any more trouble.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, don’t,” Dante warns. “Caleph doesn’t know I’m here, and you know I’d rather not leave Kingsley’s side. But it would break Caleph if anything happened to you. That’s why I’m here.”

Attila relents, sighing slowly then looking up at the sky as dark clouds start rolling in.

“We’d better go if we’re to make any headway,” Dante says, turning back toward the plane. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

* * *

Dante owns an army.And I mean that in every sense of the word. Every man on that plane has been meticulously selected and looks like he belongs with the Navy Seals or the military. They are all built like tanks, their hair shaved low and their bodies tense yet ready for attack.

When he takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of his seat, I see the holster he’s strapped over his shirt. It’s a double holster that criss crosses his chest and then against his back, allowing him four handguns at any given time; two across his chest and one on either hip. The back of his pants bulges at the waistband and I know he’s got a fifth gun there. I won’t even hazard a guess as to how many he has tucked against his legs. As I hear it, he’s been shot several times, but he’s like a cat with nine lives. Every time he gets slayed, he gets right back up again. I don’t doubt that the amount of lead he’s carrying around has saved him on more than one occasion. The man grins when he sees me looking at his armor.

“Gifts from my wife,” he explains. “Because she’s threatened if I get myself killed, she’ll drag me out of hell to kill me again.”

22

ATTILA

Caleph and I became friends when we were fourteen. We’d gone to the same school since kindergarten, but our paths had never had occasion to cross. It was only as I was standing at my parent’s gravesite, and he was standing at his, that we both looked up and watched each other across the graveyard. I stood by the grave on my own; he was surrounded by a few men in suits.

We lost our parents on the same day. Mine had died in a car accident. His parents had been brutally murdered, and there were whispers that they’d been embroiled in a mafia turf war. I didn’t care either way. All I knew was that my parents were now gone and I was on my own. Completely alone. Whilst Caleph, although the last remaining member of his family and also alone, was safe under the wings of his father’s old friend, Durian Accardi, who insisted he go and stay with him.

I was introduced to the Accardis by extension of Caleph’s relationship with Dante Accardi, who had become like a brother to him. And the three of us were always up to some sort of mischief or other, forming an unbreakable bond that we still shared to this day. When Caleph opened his first munitions factory, I was right there beside him serving as his right hand. And during the expansion, I was still there; I’d always been there in some capacity of another. Even now, I was somehow intrinsically entwined in all of Caleph’s assets, after investing the bulk of my small inheritance in his ventures. Some were more mine than his, but munitions would always be his baby.

“So bring me up to speed on the situation,” Dante says, as he sits in the chair opposite me. I rattle off all the facts to date, noting the way his brows rise in surprise when we tell him about the tracker.

“You don’t want her family to find that tracker,” he says, and it’s also the one fear I’ve had throughout this entire ordeal.

“They won’t,” The Jekyll pipes up.

“How can you know that?”

“The girl is smart. We spoke about what she should do if there was even the remotest possibility that the tracker could be found.”

“Which is?”

I turn to The Jekyll, fix him with a curious look. And for some reason, I’m fuming. When did he even get the time to have a whole conversation with her? I’m suddenly jealous of this time he had with her.

Luna’s face flashes before me. Her dark blond hair with its sun kissed highlights and almond eyes as she set her assessing gaze on me, lighting me up from the inside out. That brief interlude when she scorched my skin with her fingers; the one time in my life when I aimed for casual yet now gulped back my regret.

“When the fuck did you have the time to discuss all this with her?” I ask angrily. Just knowing that he had a private conversation with her is making my blood thicken with anger. Dante clicks his tongue and his eyebrows rise in surprise at my sudden outburst.

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