Page 80 of Devil's Claim

And I didn’t plan on curtailing my activities just because I was about to have a family.

As I climbed into my Maserati, I rubbed my jaw. At this point, I’d need to coerce if not force Christine to the altar. I’d do that if necessary, but it was not something that appealed to me. The best way of handling the situation was to convince her what an asset she’d become. She would serve several purposes, including presenting forward movement to the world. I’d learned over the years that reputations were everything. We were moving from the Stone Age into one containing not only computerized operations and internet banking, especially for foreign operations, but also hacking and the use of artificial intelligence.

How many times had Jago and I made fun of crime syndicates who’d all but abandoned their initial actions when handling business? Jago’s father had all but painted the town of Barcelona in red. While we’d attempted to follow in his footsteps as young men, we’d quickly discovered the very finesse Genevieve had accused us of not including was a requirement when dealing with foreigners.

As I started the engine, I returned to the topic of the last two days.

Christine.

She was simply a star on the rise, a true asset.

If I could eventually tame her.

What she knew about the diamond industry should be cause for alarm. No one, even those who kept up with current world news on a regular basis, had a firm understanding of a convoluted topic like the diamond industry. At least not with the details she’d provided. My thoughts were driven back to the botched engagement with Malcolm and the things he’d said.

I rubbed my index finger across my bottom lip as I drove. Forcing her complete surrender would be one of the greatest joys of my life.

The bar was fashionable and highly popular with the twenty- and thirty-something crowd. The music was loud, the dance floor packed, the lights state of the art, and the liquor flowed until three in the morning.

Gio had been a low-level player when he’d betrayed us. Being caught red-handed by the police with two kilos of cocaine hadn’t been on his bucket list. The only reason the man had been left alive in prison was because he hadn’t ratted us out. However, his misdeeds hadn’t been forgotten. We would make good use of him.

As anticipated, Navarro was waiting by his car, a souped-up American muscle car that he’d drive into the ground. The aloof man had refused to enter the refined era, his off time spent sharpening knives and fucking women. Little else. Although weall knew he was fastidious with his wealth, investing in several lucrative markets. The man was a walking contradiction of violence and rough sophistication.

We all killed, but he continued to do so for sport. But he wasn’t simply trying to prove he was a man. He was just wired that way. God help anyone who crossed him.

We were oil and water. On our good days, we were civil to each other.

But on our bad, the city could rock from the violence that ensued.

At least we’d reached a happy medium the last two years.

I pulled into a space, immediately climbing out. “Is he still inside?”

“He’s there. Tossing money around,” Navarro huffed.

“Our money.”

“Our money.”

I grinned and we headed for the rear door. Navarro knew the owner and we were given carte blanche any time we needed. “Let’s get this done.”

“In a hurry? The reason wouldn’t have anything to do with your houseguest now, would it?”

“Mind your own business.” We headed inside, moving past boxes of liquor and employees coming and going. No one paid any attention.

As we moved through the crowd, I suddenly had a sense we were being watched. I stopped long enough to scan the surrounding area, curious if anyone caught my eye.

No one did.

Navarro bumped my arm, reminding me we were here for a purpose. Given the trap in Miami, this was potentially our best and easiest method of leveling the playing field while creating our own vicious game.

Using Gio as a pawn would kill two birds with a single heavy stone.

Gio was easy to spot. In a city where men took significant pride in their appearance, the Italian prick preferred reliving his youth. It would seem prison life hadn’t changed him. Dressed in leather pants and a gaudy shirt, he stood out from the sleek crowd. Even from a distance, the man smelled greasy.

He wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings, attempting to lure two women to whatever hole in the ground he was staying at.

We walked up behind him and while the women’s eyes initially lit up from seeing two well-dressed, dangerous-looking men, I shook my head. The command was received, one of the two women leading the other away.