Page 28

28

Andre

“W hat the fuck happened?” I ask after I surrender my phone and gun at the front desk and barge into Creed’s office in Omerta. Tristan and Lorenzo have beat me here and occupy the two chairs in front of Creed’s desk, watching him. Not that he’s sitting behind it. He appears to be in the middle of pacing along the wall of windows, looking out at the scattered lights still glowing in the otherwise dark city.

“Weston was shot leaving a bar in Manhattan tonight,” Creed replies.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to be parading around in front of windows after a boss was just assassinated?” Tristan asks.

“I doubt I’m a target,” our cousin mutters.

“Why not? Bowen and Izaiah tried to kill you in a club just a few months ago,” Tristan reminds him.

“Right,” he agrees. “But this hit, just before I was going to meet with him about taking out the DA seems too…convenient.” He glares in Tristan’s direction, while Tristan scowls back at our boss defiantly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.

“Tristan seems to have developed an unhealthy obsession with the DA,” Creed explains.

I glance back and forth between my cousins, then to Lorenzo whose face looks as perplexed as mine.

“You wanted Tristan to find out everything he could about her. He’s been following her on your orders.”

“I didn’t kill Bertelli,” Tristan grits out with his jaw clenched tight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the happy go lucky, let’s-go-fuck-someone-up-for-fun man look so furious. I’ve seen him smirk after taking a goddamn punch to the face.

“Oh shit,” I mutter when I finally begin to understand Creed’s line of thought. He thinks Tristan killed Weston Bertelli, the king of assassins, to prevent him from hiring someone to take out the DA.

But the thing is, Tristan isn’t the type to disobey Creed’s orders or be any woman’s white knight.

“I believe Tristan,” I tell Creed.

Sure, our cousin can be a little unhinged and impulsive, but I don’t see him ever taking out a damn mob boss. For all his faults, Tristan would rather die than be disloyal.

Now I know why he’s so fucking furious. I’d be, too, if Creed accused me of going behind his back to kill another boss. To be making an accusation of that caliber of betrayal means Creed no longer trusts Tristan. If not, well, our family is fucked.

“The rest of the bosses should be gathering in the conference room now,” Lorenzo tells me over his shoulder. “Including Bowen.”

“I can’t believe that piece of shit is going to be a fucking boss,” I grumble as I move closer to Creed, my voice low since the office door is wide open. “Are we just going to let him get away with setting us up in the raid, for killing Carmine?”

“Well, the blood of one boss is on our hands, why not another?” Creed replies just as quietly. “If Saint takes out Aiden Sanna, that will only leave me and Gideon standing.”

“It’s hard to believe how deep the shit is getting after so many peaceful years.” Lorenzo pinches the bridge of his nose. “But then again, your father never would’ve gone after another boss for pussy...”

Creed stiffens at the harsh comparison before he shouts, “ Pussy ? That’s my fucking wife you’re talking about!”

At the same time, Tristan chimes in, “Because Cecilio was a heartless prick!”

Apparently, everyone is angry and on edge tonight.

“I need to get to the conference room,” Creed says as he rubs his temples. “We all agreed we could have one additional person to attend with us tonight.” He glances at Lorenzo, then to me. “Dre, stay here with Tristan.”

What. The. Fuck.

He’s picking Lorenzo over me, after the old man just insulted the hell out of him? I’m his goddamn second!

My jaw is still hanging open seconds after they leave.

“What did you do to piss him off?” Tristan asks when he stands from the chair to face me.

“Nothing. I mean, Lorenzo calls him out, and he takes him into the meeting instead of me?”

“Probably pissed you were so quick to say you believe me,” he replies. “I appreciate that by the way. Lorenzo is probably the one who put the fucking idea in Creed’s head.”

Going over to shut the office door, Tristan turns to me and says, “I swear it wasn’t me.”

“I know it wasn’t. You’d put a dozen bullets in the DA’s head if Creed told you to.”

Tristan’s wince is barely detectable, but I know my cousin better than anyone. I notice his grimace, and it makes me groan. “What have you done? Did you fuck her?”

He throws up his hands. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dre! Does the prissy DA look like the type who would want to be tied up and spanked?”

“How the hell would I know?” I huff. “People don’t usually go around advertising that shit, especially elected officials.”

My cousin blinks at me. “Huh. Guess that’s true.”

“So, you haven’t touched her?”

“No. I thought tonight was my last night stalking her boring ass. I wouldn’t stop Creed from doing what he needs to make sure he’s here with Zara and his kid.”

“Good. That’s what I thought. Why would he think otherwise?”

Tristan shakes his head. “It had to have been Lorenzo. He came in after me tonight, then a minute later, the guy on guard at the front brought Creed an envelope of photos.”

“Photos?”

“Guess he broke into my phone.”

“What kind of photos?”

“Ones taken from images and videos saved on my phone.”

“It’s late, and I’m growing impatient. Just spit it out.” I shove my fingers through my hair, which I’m guessing is still messy from Stella tugging on it. Fuck, I want to get back to her. To our bedroom full of mirrors that allow me to see every inch of her face and sexy body trembling when she comes.

“Yoga class,” Tristan answers. It takes me longer than it should to remember what we were talking about.

“The photos you took of the DA were from a yoga class?”

“Yep. She wears white to the class too. Thin, white pants that are see-through and sexy as hell. So, what if I zoomed in close? Yes, I think about ripping them off. I’m horny from spending every free minute up her ass. Literally. I like to string women up and take my time, make them wait for me to come back and fuck them, but not for that long.”

“You leave women…” I shake my head and wave my arm. “Never mind. So, the pictures were on your phone. I don’t see how Creed jumped from a few ass pics to thinking you’d kill a boss to protect her.”

“I’m jerking my dick in the videos,” Tristan blurts out.

“Oh.”

“And narrating all the things I want to do to her fine ass.”

“Wow.”

“Like I said, I’m just horny. I need to get laid soon.”

“Yes, you do,” I agree. “Keep your dick in your pants around the DA and try to find something to blackmail her with fast.”