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Chapter Twenty-One
CRUE
“ T wice in one night? This bird must be something special,” Mark says as he falls into my BMW’s passenger seat. “What’s it this time? You two finally fuck it out and you realized I was right?”
I don’t indulge his childish antics, favoring a straight-to-the-point approach, given the severity of what made me leave my watch when I should be keeping an eye on Fiametta, lest Tomas try to make another move.
“Lorenzo Napoli has requested a meeting.”
Mark jams his pinky finger into his ear and starts rattling it viciously. “Sorry, I must be going deaf. Say that again?” He’s oddly calm, considering I told him how I’d left things with Lorenzo, when Matteo took me there.
“Don’t come if you’re worried, but I’m going to see what he has to say.”
“You know I can’t do that. Who would I tease if they killed you?” If anyone other than Fiametta could warm my heart, I’m sure Mark would have right there.
“Then buckle in. The road’s only going to get bumpier from here.”
I drive like I’ve never driven before. Speeding through the empty streets of New York as if my life depends on it.
And to be fair, it very well might.
We arrive at Lorenzo’s place, much like the last time both of us saw Matteo. A single man stands at the front door, waiting to lead us in. Unlike Matteo’s man, he foregoes the pleasantries. We walk through the enormous mansion, up the stairs and into the barroom where I made Fiametta mine. Not only with words, but by planting my flag so far down her throat that no one will ever be able to remove my mark.
I shouldn’t be getting a thrill out of this.
Lorenzo knows.
He brought us here to monologue at us, before he puts a bullet in your head.
There’s a first time for everything, it seems. The usual cruelty of my inner voice isn’t present. It’s actually trying to be helpful for a change.
Too bad it’s probably right.
“You’ve got some big balls, Crue.” Lorenzo’s sitting behind the bar, fixing two whiskeys. But next to the glass he’s pouring amber liquid into, sit all the ingredients required to make a gin and tonic.
“Mighty big. So, fucking swollen that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you should get them checked out by a doctor.”
Screw two fingers, Lorenzo fills the glasses three-quarters of the way before moving on to make my G and T. Crushed ice, lots of mint, lots of lemon. Either he had a sip of the drink I never got the chance to enjoy, or he asked Fiametta how I prefer it.
Either way, this is going better than I expected.
It’s unnerving me.
“As much as I enjoy your testicular flattery, Lorenzo, I’d prefer you didn’t.”
He chuckles coldly, as his big brown eyes lock with mine.
“You have quite the track record yourself, Mark.” A hollow ache settles in my gut when he says Mark’s name. Matteo has met Mark, and he has never heard his name. It was my design to keep him anonymous. If things turned sour between Matteo and me, he could flee without the threat of being followed.
But if Lorenzo knows his name, he must have dug into my past. Does that mean he knows who I am, now?
“Thank you?” Mark looks at me as if Lorenzo’s crazy. A stark difference from the fear he displayed toward Matteo. I suppose it makes sense, with how many of Lorenzo’s men we’ve slaughtered so far.
“But I’m curious about something,” Lorenzo’s eyes move to Mark without his head following. “Ex-military, turned ex-special forces, turned ex-private security, turned ex-hitman. How does a man with killing in his blood, wind up owning a hunting store in the middle of a city? There aren’t too many deer here to fulfill that blood lust, are there?”
“Don’t answer him,” I say. If he’s trying to walk us into a trap, it’s not going to happen so easily.
“Like I said…” Lorenzo scoops crushed ice into half the glass before topping it with mint and lemon. “Massive. Fucking. Balls.” Then another scoop of ice and more garnish on top. “You know, it used to be, people feared me. They heard my name and shit their pants.” He pours half a glass of gin, and the other half tonic, before stirring with a long, plastic stick. “These days, they look at me and laugh. Oh, it’s Lorenzo. He’s the guy who can’t take care of a single fucking killer problem .”
Lorenzo sets both our drinks on coasters on our side of the bar, and beckons with his fingers that we join him at the bar. We do, but Mark pulls funny faces in my peripheral vision with every step.
“I found out something very interesting while I was digging into you boys,” Lorenzo is the first to take a sip. Mark is close behind him. I’m still too cautious to reach for the glass. Poison comes in many shapes and forms. “You might be working for Matteo, but I know you aren’t one of his.”
The door opens behind us, as if on cue with what Lorenzo is saying. I expect to look over my shoulder and see a hundred Napoli men storming into the room, ready to open fire on me. Instead, I see Tomas stumbling his way inside. He is so blindingly drunk he can’t even make it to the bar, and he falls into a large leather chair in front of an unlit fireplace instead.
Pathetic.
But if he’s here, at least I know Fiametta’s safe.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I shrug.
“Because you strike me as the sort who runs to the highest bidder.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I can feel my blood boiling inside my skin, and I have no idea why. Relief should be my first thought at Lorenzo’s lack of awareness about who Mark, and I are, but instead I find myself furious. All this digging into our lives, and he never once thought to search his own past? A single name would’ve given him the answer.
Mary-Beth Amos. My mom. The innocent being that this piece of shit stole from me. I can feel the veins bulging in my neck. My eyes twitch as raw aggression commands me to smash this cocktail into Lorenzo’s hanging jowls. Every fiber of my being roars that I should kill him, now. End my and Fiametta’s suffering with one well-placed flick of my blade wielding wrist.
I don’t. Instead, I allow my mind to wonder at how ridiculous it is, that out of the billions of people on this planet, it’s only the last two Napoli family members who manage to elicit any emotion from me. His daughter makes sense. At least she satisfies my cock while she tugs at my heartstrings.
Lorenzo, however, is a big pit of despair. And sitting here is a constant reminder of my failure to deliver him the same painful blow as he did me, all those years ago.
“You were there, Crue, and you saw how Matteo talked down to me. Understandably, I’d have done the same if I were in his position. My men aren’t weak, but if one man, one organization or whatever the hell these assassins are, can kill them so easily, the seed of doubt will be planted in the hearts and minds of every criminal across New York.” Lorenzo’s eyes fall to the drink I haven’t touched. I don’t plan on reaching for it just because he’s beckoning me to.
“I fail to see the point you’re trying to make. Why not speak clearly and drop the pretense.” I take a seat on the barstool opposite him, and Mark follows suit.
Lorenzo snickers, no doubt wanting to make another comment about the size of my balls, but he holds off as we’re reaching the climax of this conversation.
“I’m working on something big. Well, that’s an understatement. It’s going to shake the very foundation of New York, if I can pull it off.” He glugs down half the glass in front of him.
Better talk fast, old man. You’re about to go the way of your consigliere, if you keep drinking like that.
“First, I’m going to need you to deal with the lowlife that’s killing my men, of course. Can’t have them running amok while I’m trying to rebuild.”
Son of a bitch. There it is again. Another jab, Lorenzo doesn’t realize he’s throwing straight into my guts. It infuriates me more that his focus is on preserving his men instead of his daughter. I barely understand emotions, but even I know how cold this is.
“And what do I get in return?” I stare at him blankly.
“I’ll double whatever Matteo’s paying. No questions asked. You give me a number and I’ll deliver the cash to your doorstep.”
Mark spits a mouthful of his drink over the countertop, to Lorenzo’s chagrin. I can see he wants to say something about it, but he holds his tongue because this isn’t Fiametta spilling liquid on a tray. Mark’s a skilled killer he’s trying to employ.
“You do realize that he’s paying a lot of money, right?” Mark asks and tries another sip. “ A LOT of fucking money.” He emphasizes the point after he’s managed a swallow.
“Who cares? There’s no use having as much as I do, if I can’t use it to expand my operation.” He shrugs, and the first sign of slurring trickles over his words.
Time to go, before he ropes me into a night of drinking as if we’re old friends. I’ll definitely kill him before the sun comes up, if he tries to do that.
“I’ll need time to think about it,” I say, and get out of my chair. “But if you want this, you’ll have to prove it. I want half the fee, upfront, as a deposit. No strings attached. If I choose to walk away, you will let us go without question or attempts to take what’s mine. Trust me, I don’t like to share.”
Lorenzo opens his mouth, and then shuts it, a few times before settling on an answer. I use his indecision to further list my demands.
“Before I agree to anything, you’re going to tell me what your plan is. How I fit into it. What Mark’s role is. I’ll assess the threats in my own manner, and if I find double doesn’t cut it, you’re going to raise the number.”
Lorenzo’s eyes widen and his face sinks. He is shocked that a used to be assassin turned hunting store owner isn’t afraid to make demands while standing in front of an unholy king.
“It doesn’t seem I have much of a choice but to agree.”
“You’re right. You don’t.” I take my first step and Mark follows me. “I’ll be in touch about how much it is, and to arrange another meeting. Don’t try to find me. It will only piss me off.”
More than he has already.
Every inch of my skin starts to itch as I get back into my car. This pointless display Lorenzo put on isn’t alluring. The thought of taking his money makes me sick. And where Matteo’s meeting failed to drive the point across, Lorenzo’s vainglorious attempt to win me over only reminds me more about what’s really important.
I have to make him suffer.
I’m furious beyond my own ability to soothe myself. It must be evident on my face because Mark doesn’t say a word.
See you soon , barely makes it out of his lips when I drop him off at his place. And now that it’s time I go back to mine, I find myself stopping in front of Fia’s apartment building, instead.
Tomas isn’t here, unless he somehow managed to drag his bloated, corpse-like physique back here.
It’s my one chance to truly have her all to myself, and I can’t waste it. I need answers. I need to calm down.
I need her.