Page 3 of Murder & Mayhem

I can see it in Cain’s eyes—the raw truth. That’s precisely what he thinks, and when I turn to scowl at Oliver, I find a similar hesitance in his gaze.What the fuck, seriously?Gritting my teeth, I snarl out, “Why the fuck did you offer me the job if you didn’t think I could do it?”

“That’s not it—” Oliver begins, but I hold my hand up in a silent gesture to shut the fuck up.

“Tough shit.” I jump to my feet, glowering at both of them. “You gave me the job, it’s mine. Now sit back like good little boys and watch me do it.”

Without waiting for them to pick their jaws up off the floor, I stomp out of the office, more determined than ever to prove them wrong. I amnotto be underestimated, and little do they know, I already have a plan in mind… I just need to get in touch with a lying Antonelli asshole that I’d rather have forgotten existed.

Chapter 2

I stare at the phone in my hand, although God only knows why. She’s been ignoring my texts ever since the explosion at G&T when I told her who I really was. I saw the look in her eye—the betrayal; the distrust. I tried to reschedule, but I should have known she’d be difficult about it. It’s her nature, which is why I showed up anyway, knowing the risk. The fear that had flooded my system when she walked through that door. God, I could have wrung her pretty little neck. It was all I could do to get her out of there ASAP before Giovanni’s men showed up. I should have known that shit wouldn’t fly, though. She’s too smart, too good at reading people for that. In all the years we’ve had this little arrangement, she’s always been so fucking eager to get away from me, while I’ve always craved one second longer with her. For once, I’d hoped she would have been all for a quick in-and-out job, but of course, my change in behavior set off alarm bells in her head, igniting that fiery temper of hers.

She’s always pushed back, always stood up to me, and toed the line between cautious and daring. It’s why I’ve kept her close all these years. To the Antonellis, I may as well be a nobody. A measly bodyguard who’s generally ignored, yet to the rest of the city, I represent their worst nightmares. The second I step onto the street, my presence strikes fear into their hearts, even though I’ve never personally done anything to them. But with her, it was different. She brought to life a part of me that I thought was long dead. Her boldness intrigued me, and so did her willingness to do anything for her brother.

Ever since that night eight years ago, when Dante sent me after her to make sure she didn’t nark on what she witnessed in the alleyway, I haven’t been able to stay away. I followed her back to the shelter she was staying at and watched her closely for the next few days. I saw how she took care of her brother and the things she did for him. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to the other kids or to even take on grown men who chanced their luck. Even at that young age, she was a spitfire. The more I saw of the conditions she had to live in and the things she had to do just to survive, the more I wanted to help. I knew I shouldn’t. If anyone found out, it would only put her in more danger, but I couldn’t just walk away and forget about her, and I couldn’t continue to stand on the sidelines and simply watch… so I intervened. I made up some bullshit excuse to help her out, pretending I wanted intel on the gang that was running the part of town she lived in at the time in exchange for money. It wasn’t as much money as I’d have liked to give her, but anything more than what I offered would have raised alarm bells, and she was too smart for that, even back then.

Since then, we have met once a month. Of course, I keep tabs on her in between our visits. I know where she works, where she lives, and what school her brother goes to. I even know her secret identity. And yet, I don’t feel like I know her at all. It infuriates me that she won’t open up to me. She’s gotten cynical and suspicious—as she rightfully should—as she has gotten older, which led to her putting up more walls around herself.

I’ve been pulling my hair out for years, trying to break through them, but every time I open my goddamn mouth, I just seem to erect another barrier between us. Then, of course, I made sure to reinforce those walls with fucking concrete, basically ensuring she wouldnevertrust me, by telling her who I am. She would have worked it out anyway. She probably already had her suspicions. I could see it in her eyes. My words simply confirmed what she already suspected.

Shaking my head in defeat, I let out a long, hopeless sigh as I stare down at the blank screen of my phone. Icouldjust show up at her door, but I don’t think that will win me any brownie points. I’ve messaged her twice since that day. Once a few days after the explosion to ask if we could meet to talk about what happened—which she ignored—and five minutes ago to see if we’re still on for this month's meeting, which is meant to be tomorrow.

I know the only reason she agrees to meet me is for the money, and I’m hoping it’s enough of an incentive for her to continue with our arrangement. Except her prolonged silence is saying otherwise.

Unable to stare at the blank screen for a second longer, I collapse back against the couch cushions and stare up at the ceiling, which is where Dante finds me when he enters the apartment. It’s technicallyhisapartment—one of the few that are actually occupied in this building. Only Dante, Giovanni, and his second in command, along with a couple of other higher-ups, live in this building. Of course, if you were down on the street, looking up, you wouldn’t know that. All of the vacant apartments have lights set on timers, so they automatically come on at various times after it gets dark, giving the appearance that they are being lived in. The apartment block is locked up better than Fort Knox, though. It has the best security money can buy, and only a small handful of people even know that this is home to the major players in the Famiglia. Placed right in the middle of this part of the city, it’s only a few blocks from the casino, Belle Donne, and even the fucking cathedral, making it the perfect place to call home. Especially since it enabled Giovanni to build underground tunnels from each of his businesses, right into the bowels of the apartment building. He even had a handful of extra tunnels built which link to decoy buildings a block or two away. So long as we sporadically enter and leave via the front door—giving the appearance that it’s just the same as any other building—it is next to impossible for someone to track us back here.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dante asks, pulling my focus back to him.

I lift my head off the back of the sofa to look at him. “Nothing.” Dante doesn’t know anything about my little low-key obsession with Sawyer. I’m not entirely sure what he would think about it, especially since he’s harboring his own little preoccupation with her. Other than when I confirmed she hadn’t spilled a word of that night to anyone, we’ve never spoken of her, but he’s mumbled something about blue eyes enough times in his sleep for me to know whom he’s referring to. The fact that he let her go that night was telling enough of her effect on him. Nobody and nothing affects Dante. He’s a frozen tundra—harsh, glacial, deadly—and until that day, he’d never once hesitated in his duty to his family. The only time he’s ever gone against his father’s demands was when he continued to be friends with me, and even then, that was back when we were kids. If Dante was apathetic as a child, it’s nothing compared to the man he’s grown up to become—the man his father has molded him into.

He shrugs a shoulder, moving over to the bar cart and grabbing the decanter of whiskey, pouring two glasses. Walking over, he hands me one before claiming the seat opposite me.

“What’s on the agenda for tonight?” I ask, needing the distraction.

“Alex has been helping himself to an extra slice of Belle Donne profits.”

My eyebrows hitch. It baffles me how some of these men can be so stupid. Is a few extra grand really worth risking your life for? Apparently so, in Alex’s case.Dumb fuck.

“Shame, he was excellent at cooking the books.”

“I know,” Dante groans, sounding much more annoyed about having to find a new accountant than about the fact that he’s going to have to kill Alex. It is surprisingly difficult to find a reliable accountant who won’t go blabbing his mouth to every Tom, Dick, and Harry and is actually good at his job, despite the hefty wage we pay. Alex was excellent at his job. Saved the Famiglia a fucking fortune over the years and successfully siphoned all of our illegal earnings through our legal businesses. Now we’re not only going to have to find someone new but also adequately scare the shit out of them to keep them quiet,andget someone to show them the ropes. What a fucking headache. Still, a little murder and vindication is the perfect distraction to stop me from thinking about a certain fiery redhead.

Knocking back his drink, Dante gets to his feet, his gaze already on the office door. “Seriously?” I cock a brow at him. “Haven’t you watched those tapes enough?”

He scowls. “I haven’t worked out who she is yet.”

“What does it matter? She’s gone, and obsessing over her like this isn’t going to change that.” With his teeth gritted and his nostrils flaring, he looks like he’s one second away from flying off the handle, yet I continue to push. “Just let her go, man. We’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

My insistence that he drop this is as much for my benefit as it is his. Sure, it’s not good for him to fixate on this, and Dante has an obsessive personality, so it’sdefinitelynot good that he’s become obsessed with identifying this girl. At the same time, I also don’twanthim to identify her. I can’t be sure—the grainy recording combined with the low lighting of the club made it impossible to be certain—but I’m fairly confident that Sawyer’s the girl on the tape. I hadn’t even considered it could be her until Dante mentioned that no one knew who she was, nor had she shown her face at the club since. The fact that this girl was there on the night one of our top-paying clients conveniently died… seems like too much of a coincidence for me. For Dante, too. Besides, Sawyer is the only woman I know of that is running around the city, attempting a one-woman mission to rid it of vermin. Gotta give her credit for even trying. Every time she kills one of those fuckers, three more pop up. I genuinely thought she’d give up pretty quickly. It’s not exactly an easy challenge, but Sawyer’s tenacious; I’ll give her that. Should have known she wouldn’t let a little thing like shitty odds get in her way. Of course, her grit and determination only drew her further into my sphere, making me even more obsessed with her.

Dante still looks furious, but he relents, choosing instead to storm over to grab his gun on the table by the door. “Fine, let’s go deal with Alex then. If I can’t figure out who that dancer is, then I need to at least watch someone die by my hands.”

Getting to my feet, I slide on my shoulder holster, complete with gun, before throwing my suit jacket over the top, concealing the weapon. Taking a second, I tuck the part of myself that’s trulymeaway in a locked box at the back of my mind, firmly becoming Lorenzo, Dante’s bodyguard and made man of the Antonelli Famiglia, before I follow Dante out of the apartment.Let’s go catch us a motherfucking traitor.

***

“Alex,” Dante tuts in disapproval. “You just had to get greedy, didn’t you. Don’t we pay you enough? Doesn’t my family do enough for you, ensuring you can afford the expensive lifestyle you’ve become accustomed to, offering you a generous discount and unlimited access to Belle Donne and any of our various clubs? Not to mention wiping the slate clean of those gambling debts you owed us. And this is how you repay us?” An angry snarl enters his voice at that last question. “Bystealing.”

A muffled protest is all the response Dante gets, Alex’s words incomprehensible from behind the gag in his mouth. He’s zip-tied to a fancy, very expensive-looking dining chair as the two of us stand in the middle of Alex’s large dining room in a glass-fronted, penthouse apartment that definitely costs more than anything I could afford. It pisses me off that an asshole like this—a mereaccountant—can afford all of this off what the Antonellis pay him, but I can’t. As bodyguard to the next fucking Don, you’d think I’d be better paid than this asshole. Still, as the son of a traitor, I’m lucky to even be allowed to breathe—or so Giovanni keeps reminding me—never mind getting any of the perks reserved for true, loyal Antonelli men. It’s not enough that I’ve done everything within my power to prove my loyalty to this family since the day I learned of my father’s betrayal and watched Giovanni himself murder both my parents in front of me. He claimed he left me alive so I could prove my entire family line wasn’t filled with snitches and betrayers, but I’m certain I’m only alive so that he can torture me; so that he can hold my father’s sins over my head as though they were my own.

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