Page 12 of His Deadly Lies

Right now, I’d rather he disappear back to wherever the hell he belongs and leave me alone.

“I don’t need to be looked at,” I insist.

His gaze scours me from head to toe, lingering on my knee. “That’s not what I was told.”

One of the nurse practitioners working underneath Doctor Jones nods at the look he sends her way and comes toward me with a needle.

“This will help you relax, Miss Balestra,” the nurse says softly.

And I’m done being told what to do. I reach down and pull my knife out from my thigh strap. “I dare you to try and put me down for even a second. I don’t give a shit what my father says.”

They're not impressed, not even a little bit, and Doctor Jones only snaps his fingers once.

A second orderly comes up from behind me with her needle prepped and ready, jabbing the point into the side of my neck before so much as getting a jab in. The meds take effect almost immediately as the edges of my vision start to blur.

Drugged against my will…

Alive but caged. What is it all worth?

4

CARTER

The damn tie around my neck is a noose.

Resisting the urge to rip it off and fling as far away as fucking possible, I adjust the set of my jacket, checking my reflection in the mirror just as Ricardo walks in, zipping up his pants.

There’s too much of me in the kid for his own good, I think, scrutinizing him. And he’s definitely still a kid even though he’s twenty-five. He’ll always be a kid to me. I remember him shitting his pants on a roller coaster at ten, tall for his age, too young to ride, but insistent he was fine.

He cried the whole ride back to the hotel.

Now he’s staring at me with a clean-shaven face because he sheared off every bit of facial hair, and I have to wonder where the time has gone. Why it seems like I can’t keep up with him.

“For fuck’s sake, kid, at least have the decency to get dressed before you come up here. I don’t want you approaching me with your literal balls in your hand,” I tell him, only half joking.

“Sorry, Pops.” Ricardo winks. “I got the text for another fight club-style meeting and had to release a little tension before we face the big dogs. You know what I’m saying.”

I roll my eyes. “Still not your Pops, no matter how many times you try the nickname out on me. And do me a favor? Don’t tell me when you jack yourself off. It’s a man’s private business.” I stifle a groan, turning back to my reflection in the mirror.

Except now Ricardo has joined me.

He’s much more handsome than I used to be at his age, in a pretty boy way. He got too much of his father’s swarthiness in terms of his black hair and olive skin. At least in Ricardo, it’s tempered a bit by the soft curve of his jaw. If he’d had one of those angular chins?

He’d be unstoppable, with a bigger ego than he already has.

“It’s better than Unc, don’t you think?” Ricardo asks. “You’ve always hated it when I call you that.”

“Because it makes me sound like an asshole when you call me Unc Cart. It’s just…gross.” My eyes meet his in the mirror, and I glare at him. “I think you could at least act like you’re inheriting one of the top syndicates in the city. Rather than a teenager who just realized how to use his cock.” The damn tie will not lay straight, either. There’s a crease in the silk, and no matter how many times I fuck with it, I can’t pull the look together. “You’re a Vittorio. Start acting like one.”

“Technically, I’m an Assante,” Ricardo corrects me with a finger raised.

“We’ve got to leave in five minutes, and you’re arguing surnames?” I want to know.

Ricardo, rather than being chastised as I intended, places his hands on both of my shoulders and squeezes like he’s ready to give me a massage. “It’s the same thing you say any time one of us kids steps out of line. You know that, right? You’re starting to sound like one of those old men in the mafia movies, except you’re on repeat. Should I expect you to get a cat to warm your lap and start stroking the underside of your chin, mastermind style?” He pauses only for a beat before finishing with, “Besides, we all know my cock is bigger than yours. That’s why you’re really mad.”

I resist the urge to smile at his tone.

Yes, too much like me.

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