Page 58 of Angel's Share

Paco’s voice cut in. “That would be just before our changing of the guards. When I took the helm. And your global network of protection dwindled.”

Stone zoomed in on the screen. “I don’t have the facial memory I once did…”

“And Paco’s never met him.” Pointedly, she added, “Because he never visits.”

“Ouch,” Paco quipped.

Stone stared at the screen once more. “It can’t be…”

“Who?” Paco asked.

Pale as a ghost, he replied. “Damiano Demetrius. Niko Demetrius’s brother.”

“Fuck,” Paco breathed. “Are you sure?”

Quietly, Stone said, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, Niko Demetrius was a hired gun, a mercenary hired for his bomb making expertise. Think Boston Marathon times ten. I killed Damian’s brother. Not a quick kill. I had to extract all the information I could. I had to…”

Madison’s hands gripped his. “I know,” she said, matter of factly.

“Stone?” Damian called out. Their attention turned to the screen. “I know you’re watching. Come on down. Let’s have a little talk. Before I start shooting the women. Hmm…” He waved his Glock between a petrified Stassi and a sleeping Jordan. “Eenie, meanie, miney, mo…” His soulless eyes moved closer to the screen. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Stone studied each of the monitors again, and straightened his tie. “I won’t.”

CHAPTER28

ALEX

“Your wife may have escaped, but you won’t,” Damian said. “Time to chat with dear, sweet AJ.” He pointed his cell at Alex’s face, and snapped a shot.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked.

“What else? Summoning the kid.”

In a surge of fury, Alex swung, a fist colliding with Damian’s face, sending the phone spiraling across the room.

Damian’s men launched themselves at Alex, wrestling him to his knees as Damian recovered.

Phone in hand, Damian wiped the blood from his lips. “That was a stupid move, Mr. Drake. A very stupid move.” He pressed a button. “Sent.” His eyes cold, with a lethal edge to his voice, Damian he leveled his gun at Alex’s temple. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is stopping me from pulling this trigger, Drake.”

Alex, his muscles straining against the grip of the men pinning his arms, stopped fighting once he saw the man at the door. “You might want to rethink that, Damiano.”

It was Stone. And it was as if the entire room held its breath as he entered, his presence tall and commanding, and far from the weak, feeble man he’d become after a year of chemotherapy, radiation, and a few experimental treatments legal in select countries throughout the world.

The air became charged as he took deliberate, slow steps towards Damian. Damian’s gun lowered, a smile growing on his face.

Stone’s voice cut through like ice. “Yasou, Damiano. Den se anagnorisa. Allaxes ta mallia sou?”

Translation: “Hello, Damian. I didn’t recognize you. Did you change your hair?” Dumbfounded, Alex studied them for a moment.They know each other?

Alex’s pulse thudded loud in his ears. Damian’s eyes had narrowed, now looking down at Stassi’s. It was a knife to the gut—watching him stroke her hair, helpless to do anything but sit there. The fear in her eyes was raw, her lip trembling as he continued.

He wanted to tell her it would be alright. Somehow silently convey,Don’t worry, maman.I swear, this man won’t live to see another day. But she never met his fervent gaze.

Instead, she stayed quiet and still, the entire time, her eyes locked on Stone’s.

Damian shifted the gun and raised it to Stone’s chest, regarding him with a mix of thrill and disdain. They shared a history, that was clear. Hell, the weight of it filled the room.But what did it have to do with Stassi?

With a low chuckle, Damian spoke. “Don’t bother buttering me up in Greek, Stone.” Damian turned his face to the left, then to the right, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips. “I trimmed my hair and shaved. Just for you. If you taught me anything, it’s that hair has a nasty way of catching fire under a blowtorch.” He glanced at Jordan’s sleeping body. “Shall I try it on her.”

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