Page 10 of Risk

“What table?” she repeated, emphasizing both words meticulously.

Talia shook her head, but Kiera ground her teeth and raised her brows as if to say, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll go find him myself.”

“21,” she whispered, and Kiera was gone before Talia could say more. She’d been all but in charge of the Grotto for years, and if she needed to kick someone out of the place, Marco had explicitly given her permission to do so.

As Kiera exited the server’s line, she sent a shrill whistle to the bouncer standing by the door. She gestured for the man to follow her as she rushed to table twenty-one and looked at the single man who sat there. His large arms, tall frame, and tattoo-covered body and face marked him as Talia’s type, and Kiera scowled down at him.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

His attention jumped to Kiera, and he scowled up at her. It seemed like the restaurant had gone silent at her request.

“Excuse me?” he replied, sitting straighter in his seat.

“I said that you need to leave. We don’t tolerate threats, and I certainly don’t tolerate threats of sexual assault on myemployees.”My employees.She’d said it with such conviction that she had no doubt everyone in the restaurant believed her to be in charge.

He turned and stood from his seat slowly, intending to intimidate her.

Kiera didn’t so much step back. She couldn’t decide if bravery or an utter lack of regard for her own safety drove her, but she took a small step forward. He didn’t speak. He only looked down at her with a clenched jaw and bawled fists.

“I didn’t threaten nobody,” he snarled down at her.

“You did. If you don’t leave, we’ll have you escorted out. Either way, you will not be served here, and if you wait outside for her, I’m sure we will have plenty of patrons happy to take care of the threat for her.” Kiera’s words came out hostile and with a bite that she felt so deep inside of her that she could have exploded in anger. He knew as well as she did that the police wouldn’t be an option—not in an underground, crime-affiliated restaurant. But the patrons? They were more dangerous than any cop.

His chest expanded as if he planned on devouring her entire body with his, breaking it into pieces and scattering them thoughtlessly throughout the city.

Before he spoke, his eyes flickered to a figure behind her—over her shoulder where a large shadow had fallen over her. The bouncers they hired had always been good at their jobs, and this one used intimidation in his favor. Ross didn’t step back, but his chest deflated as he swallowed a lump that seemed to have appeared in his throat.

“Fine,” he snarled, a tiny bit of spittle falling onto her face. Kiera didn’t bother wiping it away as he stormed around her, shoulder-checking her hard enough to knock her back a step. Asshole.

She took a deep breath and finally turned to thank the bouncer for his help, but the bouncer still stood by the door, watching the scene unfold. She extended her neck and gaped, finding the man she’d been struggling to get off her mind for a week.

She exhaled a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The restaurant’s noise arose, but she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, nodding and attempting to sidestep him. “I’ll get that drink for you.”

Vincent’s hand wrapped around her forearm and pulled her to a halt. The grip was gentle but effective. “What did he do?”

She shook her head, the thought of Ross’s hands on Talia running through her mind and sending another pulse of rage through her. “He threatened a friend, and I don’t take that lightly.”

He nodded, almost as if he understood, releasing the grip on her arm and taking a step away from her. The cold rage in his eyes promised death, but she knew it hadn’t been aimed at her.

“Nor do I,” Vincent agreed, turning and returning to his table.

Maybe,she considered, they were more alike than she’d initially thought.

6

The evening ended as the last person left the Grotto, forty minutes after the designated closing time, and Kiera had started her closing tasks, bidding farewell to Vincent with a small smile and a final thanks.

He walked out of the restaurant, scanning the street and the cars that settled on both sides, looking for the man who would certainly retaliate. The man wouldn’t retaliate against Vincent—not when Vincent was the most successful soldier in the Italian mafia. He’d retaliate against either Kiera or her friend.

Neither would happen. Not with Vincent in the picture.

He pulled his disposable phone from his pocket and flipped it open, selecting one of the three numbers within. Each number belonged to a disposable cellphone—each affiliated with the other members of his splinter cell. All of them served a purpose, though Vincent undoubtedly had the most hands-on job. The most dangerous.

The phone rang twice as he approached his black sports car. His attention pieced the night around him, scanning for any potential dangers and finding none. His hand rested on the handle of his driver’s door as the phone stopped ringing.

“Marco,” the man said with his typical greeting.

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