Page 104
Story: King of Power
“Ah.” I nod, setting the glass aside. I hope this means their conversation went well. “Send them in. And get Seb.”
My brother’s recovery has been remarkable—a testament to both his stubborn nature and Dr. Martinez’s skill. The bullet wound in his shoulder still pains him, but he’s mobile now, if abit slower than usual. We need him for this meeting, need his tactical mind and his connections.
Eve enters first, her emerald eyes scanning the room with the practiced efficiency of a cop. The dark circles under them speak of sleepless nights and worry. “Is everything okay, or did you find something?”
“I just wanted you home,” I say. “It’s safer to have you close.”
Relief and worry war for dominance over her expression. Eve will not be able to rest until we find Leo. Behind her comes Detective Narissa Crane—Eve’s partner and, if my sources are correct, one of the sharpest minds in Columbus PD’s Special Victims Unit.
“Detective.” I stand, extending my hand across the desk. “Welcome to my home.”
Narissa’s grip is firm, her pale blue eyes assessing me with cool professionalism. “Mr. King.” Her tone carries just enough sarcasm to make it clear she’s not impressed by my attempts at civility.
“Please, sit.” I gesture to the leather chairs arranged in front of my desk. “We’re just waiting for—”
“Your criminal associates?” Narissa arches an eyebrow.
“Rissa,” Eve warns.
Before I can respond, Seb appears in the doorway, Eli and Micah flanking him. My brother’s complexion is still a shade too pale, but his trademark smirk is firmly in place.
“Actually,” Seb drawls, easing himself into one of the chairs, “we prefer ‘morally flexible entrepreneurs.’”
A ghost of a smile tugs at Eve’s lips despite the gravity of our situation. She’s grown fond of my brother—especially since he took that bullet. Watching him recover has brought out her nurturing side, though she tries to hide it behind her usual sharp wit.
“Now that we’re all here,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand, “let’s discuss what we know.”
Eli closes the door and takes up his usual position near it—always the sentinel, always watching. Micah settles into the remaining chair while Eve perches on the arm of Narissa’s, a united front.
“Leo’s been missing for thirty-six hours,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain steady. “In that time, we’ve confirmed that Alessandro Costa’s men are involved, but they’re not working alone. The level of sophistication in this operation suggests outside help.”
“Nicolo Moretti.” Eve’s voice is hard.
It’s not a question. My wife—and when did that word stop feeling like a business arrangement?—has always been quick to connect the dots.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze across the desk. “We know the detailed impersonation they put together to steal Leo takes resources and professional training. The kind you only get in organizations like Nicolo’s.”
I push away from my desk to pace behind it. The movement helps me think, helps channel the rage and helplessness threatening to overwhelm me.
“Nicolo wants me back,” I say finally, stopping to stare out the window at the manicured grounds below. “He’s never forgiven me for leaving New York, for walking away fromthe family. This—” I gesture vaguely, encompassing all the chaos of the past few days. “This is his way of showing me that I can’t escape my past. That he can reach into my life whenever he wants and take what matters most.”
“You sound awfully certain about that.” Narissa’s voice carries an edge of suspicion.
I turn back to face the room, noting how Eve’s hand has found her partner’s shoulder—a silent request for patience.
“I know how Nicolo thinks.” The memories rise unbidden—years spent as his protégé, learning the intricate dance of power and loyalty that governs the mafia world. “He’s a master of manipulation, of using people’s attachments against them. He knows that taking Leo will force my hand, make me confront him directly.”
“Which is exactly what we can’t do.” Micah speaks up for the first time. “Walking into his territory? It’s suicide.”
“No.” The word escapes me before I can stop it. “It’s exactly what we need to do.”
The room erupts in protests—Eli’s rumbling objection, Seb’s sharp curse, Micah’s quiet but firm disagreement. But it’s Eve’s silence that draws my attention. She’s watching me with those piercing green eyes, understanding dawning in their depths.
“You want to go to New York,” she says softly. “Confront him on his own turf.”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand. “Think about it. He’s expecting me to stay here, to react defensively. To hole up in Columbus while his plan unfolds. But if I go to him—”
“You throw him off balance,” Seb says. “Make him show his hand.”
My brother’s recovery has been remarkable—a testament to both his stubborn nature and Dr. Martinez’s skill. The bullet wound in his shoulder still pains him, but he’s mobile now, if abit slower than usual. We need him for this meeting, need his tactical mind and his connections.
Eve enters first, her emerald eyes scanning the room with the practiced efficiency of a cop. The dark circles under them speak of sleepless nights and worry. “Is everything okay, or did you find something?”
“I just wanted you home,” I say. “It’s safer to have you close.”
Relief and worry war for dominance over her expression. Eve will not be able to rest until we find Leo. Behind her comes Detective Narissa Crane—Eve’s partner and, if my sources are correct, one of the sharpest minds in Columbus PD’s Special Victims Unit.
“Detective.” I stand, extending my hand across the desk. “Welcome to my home.”
Narissa’s grip is firm, her pale blue eyes assessing me with cool professionalism. “Mr. King.” Her tone carries just enough sarcasm to make it clear she’s not impressed by my attempts at civility.
“Please, sit.” I gesture to the leather chairs arranged in front of my desk. “We’re just waiting for—”
“Your criminal associates?” Narissa arches an eyebrow.
“Rissa,” Eve warns.
Before I can respond, Seb appears in the doorway, Eli and Micah flanking him. My brother’s complexion is still a shade too pale, but his trademark smirk is firmly in place.
“Actually,” Seb drawls, easing himself into one of the chairs, “we prefer ‘morally flexible entrepreneurs.’”
A ghost of a smile tugs at Eve’s lips despite the gravity of our situation. She’s grown fond of my brother—especially since he took that bullet. Watching him recover has brought out her nurturing side, though she tries to hide it behind her usual sharp wit.
“Now that we’re all here,” I say, drawing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand, “let’s discuss what we know.”
Eli closes the door and takes up his usual position near it—always the sentinel, always watching. Micah settles into the remaining chair while Eve perches on the arm of Narissa’s, a united front.
“Leo’s been missing for thirty-six hours,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain steady. “In that time, we’ve confirmed that Alessandro Costa’s men are involved, but they’re not working alone. The level of sophistication in this operation suggests outside help.”
“Nicolo Moretti.” Eve’s voice is hard.
It’s not a question. My wife—and when did that word stop feeling like a business arrangement?—has always been quick to connect the dots.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze across the desk. “We know the detailed impersonation they put together to steal Leo takes resources and professional training. The kind you only get in organizations like Nicolo’s.”
I push away from my desk to pace behind it. The movement helps me think, helps channel the rage and helplessness threatening to overwhelm me.
“Nicolo wants me back,” I say finally, stopping to stare out the window at the manicured grounds below. “He’s never forgiven me for leaving New York, for walking away fromthe family. This—” I gesture vaguely, encompassing all the chaos of the past few days. “This is his way of showing me that I can’t escape my past. That he can reach into my life whenever he wants and take what matters most.”
“You sound awfully certain about that.” Narissa’s voice carries an edge of suspicion.
I turn back to face the room, noting how Eve’s hand has found her partner’s shoulder—a silent request for patience.
“I know how Nicolo thinks.” The memories rise unbidden—years spent as his protégé, learning the intricate dance of power and loyalty that governs the mafia world. “He’s a master of manipulation, of using people’s attachments against them. He knows that taking Leo will force my hand, make me confront him directly.”
“Which is exactly what we can’t do.” Micah speaks up for the first time. “Walking into his territory? It’s suicide.”
“No.” The word escapes me before I can stop it. “It’s exactly what we need to do.”
The room erupts in protests—Eli’s rumbling objection, Seb’s sharp curse, Micah’s quiet but firm disagreement. But it’s Eve’s silence that draws my attention. She’s watching me with those piercing green eyes, understanding dawning in their depths.
“You want to go to New York,” she says softly. “Confront him on his own turf.”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze, willing her to understand. “Think about it. He’s expecting me to stay here, to react defensively. To hole up in Columbus while his plan unfolds. But if I go to him—”
“You throw him off balance,” Seb says. “Make him show his hand.”
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