Page 10 of Curse

“What did she take?” Vin’s tone sharpens, no longer amused.

“I’m not sure. Didn’t look like anything important.”

The image of Siena flashes in my mind, bold and unapologetic, arms full of stolen bags, daring me to stop her. There was a defiance in her glare that set my pulse hammering, a defiance betraying a fire that I don’t see often. A fire that demands attention.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Vin’s voice cuts through mythoughts. “You want to fuck her?”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t stop her because drawing attention would’ve blown the job. Plus, it’s unlikely that she took what we need. You and I both know that thing probably got blown up or is at the bottom of the lake. Protecting her was the best option.”

The memory of Siena’s face flickers in my mind like an old film. The way her grief twisted her features, the pain etched so raw it made my chest tighten.

I understand that kind of loss. I live it every damn day. And seeing it mirrored in her? It sparked something primal in me, a need to shield her. To find every bastard who has ever hurt her and make them bleed for it.

Vin chuckles darkly. “Unless she’s married to or blood-tied to one of our guys, she doesn’t get that protection. So what is it, Matti? You protecting her because you want to bend her over? Because you are aware that you can do that and still get the shit back that she took, right?”

“Fuck off,” I mumble, but I can’t help imagining what she’d look like bent over in those tight jeans, her round ass up in the air, her big tits spilling out of her tight sweater and her black lace bra. My cock stiffens at the thought, but I close my eyes and shove the thought away, smothering it like a flame under a blanket of darkness.

“When was the last time you got laid? Have you considered that you might not be such a cranky fuck if you got your dick wet a little more often?”

“I’m fine,” I snap. “I’m a cranky fuck, because you’re an annoying asshole.”

I don’t have an issue finding women to fuck when I feel like it, but it’s not something that Vin would necessarily be aware of. Not that I hide it from him, but I have a strict rule about keeping anyone I fuck far away from work and the Demonio family. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way a long time ago.

And fucking Siena is already off the table, anyway. Complicated doesn’t go with my line of work, and Siena, with her fiery attitude and ties to the family, is definitely complicated.Case in point, I’m already lying to my best friend and partner about her.

“Alright, well, if you don’t locate what we’re looking for, can you find her to get back the shit she stole in case she grabbed it?”

“Yeah. New Jersey plates. She’s probably headed back home.”

Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. This is exactly the problem with women. Thirty seconds of thinking about fucking her and already I’m fucking myself up.

“Bridge and tunnel girl, huh? Wait, didn’t you just tell me you didn’t know if she was local or not? What is up with this female?”

I shrug even though he can’t see me. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Probably bridge and tunnel, yeah, but who knows? I’ll check it out when I get back.”

“Fuck it. What we need is proof that Mikey is dead and you back here ASAP to help me manage the shit storm that the old man is creating up here.”

I hang up the phone with a sigh, turning my attention back to the chaos on the lake.

As I step out of the car, shouts echo from the lake, sharp and urgent against the still morning air. I move closer, my shoes crunching on the gravel, until I have a good view of the commotion near the middle of the water.

The diving team is surfacing, their movements jerky as they struggle with something unwieldy. In the boat, law enforcement is wrangling a massive white contraption that is part sling and part stretcher with gaping holes designed to let water drain out.

Curiosity pulls me forward. I walk down the dock, thewood creaking beneath my steps, as a winch on the boat groans to life. The rope spins over the wheel, straining as the stretcher emerges from the lake. Water cascades off it in sheets, revealing the unmistakable shape of a corpse.

Guys on the dock stop what they are doing and stand beside me, watching. One by one, the men on board the boat pull three bodies from the water with grim efficiency, their faces tight with focus as each one is heaved onto the deck.

A motorboat buzzes up to the dock, its engine slicing through the eerie quiet left in the wake of the shouting. It pulls up beside the South Carolina Emergency Management boat, and Officer Clifton is the first to climb out. His boots thud on the wooden dock, but his eyes don’t meet mine. He looks anywhere but at me, his avoidance so pointed it’s almost a physical gesture. Smart man.

I step forward, planting myself in his path as he heads up the dock toward the parking lot. My body is a wall, blocking his way.

“They get three bodies out of there?” I ask, my voice low, steady.

Officer Clifton pulls his phone out of his pocket and acts like he’s checking something on it. He won’t meet my gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“Any identification yet?” I ask. It’s too much to hope for, I know.

“Not yet.” Clifton stays locked on his phone.

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