Page 35 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

ALISON

I woke up with the phantom weight of that rifle pressed into my chest and my grandfather’s voice echoing through my mind.

You aim. You breathe. You choose.

It was so good to hear his voice again. Even though I didn’t exactly hear it, somehow, it felt like he was right next to me, whispering that memory into my brain.

Is that why I know how to handle a gun?

I blinked against the light trickling through my bedroom window, swallowing the lump in my throat. Looking around the room, I reached over to the empty spot beside me. Max wasn’t in bed, and by the way the sheets were too neat to be slept in, he hadn’t stayed.

I climbed out of bed, my chest still pounding and my legs weak from what Max had put me through the night before. I was sore in places I didn’t even know could ache, and yet a smile crept onto my face at the memory.

Some pains are welcome.

Something told me this memory was unlocked because of him. Because of the way he made me feel. Like I was seen. Worth it. Like my heart was safe and guarded with him and by him.

I wondered what more was there to remember? What more had I locked away in fear of being hurt?

Could it be worse than witnessing a decapitation at six?

Jesus, my head was one fucked up place. How many of my memories held armor?

Pulling an oversized t-shirt over my head, I padded my way into the kitchen, hoping to find him there, sipping on a hot cup of coffee. I smiled as soon as I heard the rustling of a spoon against porcelain, the smell of freshly brewed coffee welcoming me into the kitchen.

I needed a hefty dose of caffeine to process that dream.

“You weren’t in b–” I said, cutting off my sentence as I came into the kitchen, a man who definitely wasn’t Max holding a fuming cup of coffee and smiling over the rim.

My feet froze right on the spot while my heart started racing frantically at the sight of him. Danger lurked under his perfectly tailored vest, and as handsome as the man might be, he was deadlier than a cup of poison.

“Morning, Principessa .” He drawled in a practically flawless Italian accent. Pretty good for a Colombian drug lord.

Diego didn’t look up from the phone he nursed between his inked fingers.

He was sitting at the island in my kitchen like he owned the place.

Sleeves rolled up, suit jacket flung over the back of my couch like a second thought, holster still strapped to his side in case his coffee needed an extra bullet.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sounding just as alarmed as my words suggested.

“ Acalmate, Guapa ,” Calm down, Beautiful, he replied, slowly sipping on his coffee without a care in the world.

“How did you get in?” I glanced at the large window and towards the door next. Both closed.

He finally glanced up at me, his eyes drawing a line down my naked legs before they followed my gaze to the door, only to settle back on my face, “He’s alright. He’s just taking a little nap.”

Did he mean Max or Jimmy? The casual cruelty in his tone made my stomach twist.

No, Max wouldn’t have left me in here alone just to stand guard at the door. That was too impersonal after we’d blown the cautionary distance line to Mars.

Inhaling deeply, I steadied my heart rate, forcing myself to calm down. I heard Nonno’s voice in my head again, telling me to aim, breathe, choose. That last one came a bit as a riddle to me, but I could only guess it meant I was in control.

I narrowed my eyes, stalking to the counter and snatching a mug for myself. “You break into people’s houses for coffee often, or is this some kind of special treatment?”

“I only visit close friends in person.” He tilted his head, his smile as dire as those damn dark eyes of his. “For everything else, I have my sicarios on speed dial.”

Was that a threat?

I turned slowly, leaning one hip against the counter and crossing my arms, preparing another snarky reply to throw him off his game.

This man was like a wild animal. He could sniff your fear from a mile away, making the hunt that much more pleasurable.

My best shot was to swallow my fear with that cup of coffee and take the satisfaction away from him.

“Are you always this charming, or is this just your breakfast personality?”

“I’m delightful after lunch,” He mocked back.

I took a sip of my coffee, not breaking eye contact, making sure my voice was steady and lacing it with annoyance instead, even if it was of the fake variety, “What do you want, Diego?”

“I want you to put a leash on your fiancé.” His smile faded as soon as he slipped from the tense banter to business, “Or I might be forced to visit you again. Might even throw in a loved one, too, if I’m feeling extra vindictive.”

“Aren’t threats supposed to come before the bomb and not after?”

“A bomb? You think that was me?”

“You knowing about it is indication enough that you’re involved.”

He stood slowly, dragging his chair back with a low screech of wood against tile, and took a few lazy steps toward me. Not rushed. Not hostile. But each step was a warning.

“I make it my business to know my enemies, Miss Battaglia .” He used my mafia-tied last name, dragging it out into the open and showing me he knew exactly who I was.

The sly grin on his face screamed victory with a side of deception.

“And as you can see, I don’t need a long-range weapon to do the job for me.

I am perfectly capable of getting it done, all up and personal, just like I enjoy it. ”

“You don’t expect me to believe it wasn’t you.”

“I don’t care what you believe.” He shrugged, his chest lifting in a slow, arrogant arc.

“My life’s mission is not set on cleaning my name from associated atrocities.

It kinda gives me good street credit. I’ve made peace with being El Diablo Blanco .

Pero no , but no, it wasn’t me. You wouldn’t be standing here if it was. ”

“Then I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“You’re the soon-to-be Mrs. Massimo, cierto ?

I’m sure throughout the years, you’ve learned many ways to persuade men to do what you want them to do.

You can either do that, bat those pretty eyelashes of yours, and convince that bendejo , fucker, not to pull out from our agreement, or the next time I visit you, I’ll be here to collect a very personal item to send him as an alternative method.

Say… that ruby he gave you. The one you insist on not wearing,” he stepped closer, swiping a strand of my hair behind my ear while I resisted the urge to take a step back to a safer distance, “still attached to that pretty little finger of yours.”

Pull out of our agreement?

Vincenzo was trying to cut ties with the Cartel? Why?

“Why would Vincenzo want to pull out of your agreement? I always thought drug trafficking and money laundering was a profitable business.”

“Ahhh,” Diego clicked his tongue and gave a slow, mocking clap as he stalked toward the couch, stretching his arms out before sinking into the cushions like a king settling into his throne. “It seems like we’ve both been playing hide and seek with each other. You know more than you let on.”

It was instant, my fucking mouth running away with the truth before my mind could plan for it.

“I know your sister, too.”

Before I could blink, Diego was in front of me, his big, strong hand gripping my jaw and clasping my cheeks so hard my flesh bit into my teeth as my back hit the wall behind me, “How do you know Camila?”

I was sure fear flashed across my eyes while my blood rushed in pulses through my ears. This man could crush me with his bare hands, and even though he was hurting me, I felt the restraint in the way his arm shook.

On instinct, I laced my fingers around his wrist as if that could give me any control at all. He was too strong, and if his mind was set on it, he could crush my windpipe with one deliberate squeeze.

Choose.

Choose.

Control the beast, Alison.

His pulse thrummed under my fingers, wild and erratic, telling me Diego wasn’t as controlled as the fake facade he wanted to suggest.

“Is she here to spy on us? On me?” Diego glared into my eyes, studying me, thinking about his next move. There was something about mentioning his sister that had caught him off guard.

Just like Vincenzo.

“No, that’s not it.” My hand glided to his, prying his fingers from my skin, regaining my control and freeing myself from his hold. “You didn’t know she was here. I can see it on your face.”

Diego stepped back. It was a mere inch, but it was enough to grant me breathing space. His jaw was tight, twitching in rhythm with his ragged breath. Anger masked in composure.

“How do you know Camila?” He asked again, his voice so dark I could practically feel the breath of death fanning my cheek.

“You first. Tell me why Vincenzo is cutting ties with the Cartel and why is that enough to make you come all the way to New York and threaten me, especially now that you know who I am. Who my brother is.”

Diego scoffed silently, conceding the victory of our little stand-off, nodding to himself before he spoke, “We had a deal. He either sticks to his end, or peace is off the table.”

“Got it. I had kinda figured that part out already since, you know, standard procedure in all the criminal deals gone wrong.” I shrugged.

“You think this is a game?” His gaze snapped back to me, eyes wide with barely restrained rage.

“No.” I was the one to take a step forward this time, reclaiming the power in the short space between us, “But you clearly want to know whatever information I have about your sister, and for that, I’m going to need you to be more specific.”

“I’m about to be sitting on millions of dollars in powder and untreated bills. It will take me months to find a new business partner who can handle the magnitude of product and laundry I need.”

“Okay. That all seems like a you problem.” His stare turned deadly, those dark eyes narrowing as if deciding exactly how much pain I was worth.

I knew I was pushing every single button of his and probably riding this power trip a little too loosely.

“Business deals end. They don’t necessarily mean forever. ”

“This one does since the Massimos’s killed my father, and this deal is their fucking apology.” Diego took one deliberately slow step, and then another, until we were standing nose to nose again, “Nothing’s more permanent than death, Principessa .”

I swallowed hard at his words, his threats, his closeness.

“Your turn. How do you know Camila?”

“She bumped into me at the Ritz with her little boy a while back.”

Diego stopped breathing altogether. How much trouble will I be in if a Cartel Lord dies in my apartment? How plausible would it be if I said he broke in and then had a damn heart attack?

“Diego?” I waved my hand in front of his face, “DIEGO!”

“Her little boy?” He asked, tears brimming in his eyes, but he was too ruthless to ever allow them to fall. Instead, they were soon followed by unmatching fury. “She had a kid? She had his fucking kid?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but yes, she had a kid with her that morning, and that’s all I know. Can you leave now?”

“No.” Diego grasped my arms and shook me as if trying to make his next words seep into my bones, “You are going to tell your fucking fiancé that he either fixes everything, or I’m coming back for you.”

“I’d come with a remote if I could be controlled.”

Me and my big fucking mouth.

“It only takes a single squeeze of a trigger for you to fall right in line. I’d advise you not to test me.”

Stomping away, Diego grabbed his jacket from the couch and marched towards the door, only to stop as his hand wrapped around the handle.

“I can see why he chose you.”

“Vincenzo? It’s an easy choice when your last name comes with wealth and an army. I’m leverage to him. Just a way to secure his future.”

With eerie calmness, Diego smiled, amusement and hazard dripping off that wicked gesture in equal measures, “I meant Gabriel.”