Page 28

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rafael

My mind reels with the information Lux just handed me.

Even as I comfort and assure her that she’s done the right thing, frustration simmers beneath my skin. Rage coils in my belly, cold and hard, making me want to vomit.

Fucking Vince. I trusted him with everything. Every piece of information, every inside plan, was all his for the taking. Of course, he’s been working with Mancini. Of course, he killed my father and set Lux up to take the fall—the perfect scapegoat.

But why? The question echoes in my mind, driving me insane.

If he wanted to get rid of me and rise to power, he could have done it already. Back when my father died and I took over, he could have staged a coup. He’s older and more experienced, and the others trust and respect him.

It smells fishy, like there’s a piece I’m not seeing yet. I need to figure out what I’m missing here.

“You’re going to kill him?” she asks innocently, gazing up at me with those enormous eyes.

“I’m going to torture the fuck out of him first,” I spit out, unable to stop my anger from oozing out. She looks shocked for a moment and pulls away, clearly uncomfortable with my methods.

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” I say gently, tipping her chin up to place a soft kiss on her mouth. “He deserves it.”

She nods and we get back to dinner preparations, but my mind is running a million miles a minute. I need to call Enzo and get him to dig up everything he can on Vince. I want to know where he came from, how he earned my father’s trust so quickly, and what he wants.

I realize I’m rushing through dinner, but Lux doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she’s anticipating that I’m going to disappear tonight to handle this. And maybe even looking forward to some alone time.

“We’re going to have to find a good doctor,” I say, trying to slow myself down as we eat our pasta. I down my glass of wine and Lux sips the mocktail I made for her. “For the baby, I mean.”

She nods, running her hands over her belly. “I know, I've only seen a doctor once so far. I’m kind of worried about that.”

“You’re healthy and young,” I assure her. “I’m sure everything is fine, but we should cover all our bases and make sure.”

We chat a bit more about her first work day, the baby, and her ring. I almost feel like a normal family man coming home from my office in midtown to have dinner with my pregnant wife. Then I remember I have to go hunt down a traitorous mafia associate tonight and instantly sober.

“You have to go, don’t you?” Lux asks apprehensively as we tidy our dishes.

“I do, sunshine,” I say, taking the bowls out of her hand and placing them in the sink. “But I’ll be back before you wake up, I promise.”

“This apartment is creepy when I’m alone,” she whispers, glancing at the floor.

“Don’t worry, most of the ghosts are friendly.”

“Rafael,” she swats me with the dish towel. “Not funny! I’m already having nightmares every night. Let’s not add day-mares to the mix.”

“Not a real word, my darling wife,” I say, kissing the tip of her nose. “It can’t hurt you if you can’t find it in the dictionary.”

“So, you’re saying ghosts, goblins, and the monster under our bed can?”

“Only if you’re a bad girl,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her shiver against me. “But I know you’re a good girl.”

Her cheeks flush pink, and she swats me with the dish towel again, laughing. “Go, get out of here and find your turncoat. Just be careful.”

“Always am,” I say, kissing her one last time before I slip out of the kitchen and into the elevator. On the ride down, I call Enzo.

“Boss? You’re late, you know that?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask him, pacing in a small square.

“I thought you’d call me earlier and pat me on the back for playing the role of employer so well,” he says, laughter coloring his voice. “Your girl is a quick learner, by the way. She already came up with a color-coding system for all of my files.”

“That’s great, Enzo,” I say, a long-suffering sigh escaping from my lips. The elevator dings open, and I stride to my car. Honestly, if he wasn’t so damn good at his job, I would have fired this kid ages ago. “We need to talk real business, though.”

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice instantly in serious mode. At least he knows when to shut up sometimes.

“Vince is fucking around,” I explain, climbing into my car and firing up the engine. “I’m almost positive he’s been working with Mancini.”

“Uh-oh,” he says, the sound of his fingers flying across a keyboard in the background. “I’ll look into it.”

“I need everything on him,” I tell him, pulling out of the garage and flying down the dark street. “Absolutely everything.”

“On it.”

The phone connection clicks and I pull in a deep breath. Vince’s apartment building looms ahead of me on the other side of the bridge. I press the gas a little harder, picking up speed, praying he’s there when I arrive.

Although, if he’s as smart as I think he is, it’ll be empty. He likely put two and two together as soon as Lux waltzed into my place and went on the run. Still, I need to confirm.

I run through the list of my father’s associates, wondering who I can trust. If Vince is double-crossing me, what’s to say the others aren’t as well? Paranoia eats at me as I pull into the underground garage and park my car.

I walk to the elevator, checking over my shoulder the whole time, imagining things and seeing shadows. This is how Lux probably feels when she’s alone in the apartment, poor girl.

When I finally get to his floor, I double-check my weapon and head down the hallway, keeping it at my side. I’m not taking any chances with this—not when I finally have something to live for. I pause in front of his door, listening for movement or sound inside.

Hearing nothing, I knock and wait. The seconds tick by at a snail’s pace as my heartbeat grows more frantic. He could be faking me out, waiting and hiding until I leave. I try the handle to find it locked. I glance left, then right, and line my gun up with the lock.

Counting to three, I shoot, blowing the handle off the door and thanking my silencer for keeping me somewhat inconspicuous. The door swings open when I nudge it with my foot, and I wait, my body rigid, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Silence. Nothing but silence.

I wander into the entryway, squinting in the darkness. The moon hangs high in the sky, letting in a stream of soft light across the living room.

I press myself against the wall, sticking to the shadows, and canvas the apartment. When I find no trace of Vince, I sigh and tuck my gun away, knowing he’s already one step ahead of me.

I circle back to his office and rifle through his documents and drawers. Nothing incriminating turns up, so I head back to my car.

“I need reinforcements,” I mutter to myself, lighting up a cigarette as I slump in the driver’s seat. I smoke it slowly, savoring the way it gives me a heady rush and reduces the noise in my head. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts, trying to figure out who to call.

Although I rarely agree with their old-school tactics, my uncles Joe and Rocco are my first choice. My father’s brothers wouldn’t betray their own blood , I reason. I throw them into a conference call and explain the situation. They’re rightfully shocked and thirsty for revenge.

We agree to meet in a small dingy wine bar in Little Italy to discuss our plan of action. Twenty minutes later, I pull around to the back of Lita’s Lounge and park in the shadows.

Steve, the grizzled security guard at the back door waves me in. Lita’s is neutral ground in the mafia world in this city, offering private backrooms and staff who understand that loose lips sink ships. I’ve never felt more like a real mafia don than in this moment.

My uncles are already sipping whiskey in one of the backrooms when I arrive. I slide into a seat and drop my head into my hands.

“Here you go, kid,” Joe says, sliding a glass toward me. I shoot back the amber liquid, relishing the burn, and slam it down on the table.

“What the hell are we going to do?” I mutter, lighting another cigarette. Uncle Rocco reaches out and swipes it from my mouth, snapping it in half.

“Dangerous for your health,” he shrugs when I shoot him a death stare. I watch pointedly as he shoots another glass of whiskey and shake my head at him.

“Enzo sent me a list of Vince’s most frequented spots around the city,” I start, trying to make my brain work. “As well as a few of Mancini’s safehouses. I think we should split up and check those first. If you find him, I want him alive.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We will,” I assure them. “He can’t run from me forever.”

“You think he killed your father?” Rocco asks suddenly.

“Maybe he did it when he prepared your father’s coffee,” Joe volunteers, pouring me another drink.

“What?” I grind out, my teeth gritted in rage.

“He always prepared your father’s coffee,” Joe confirms. “You didn’t notice? He added sugar and milk the way Dominic liked.”

“We always thought it was about respect,” Rocco muses. “But you might be onto something there.”

Why hadn’t I noticed? I had lunch with the two of them a million times.

I groan in frustration and smack my fist on the table, sending the glasses skittering across the lacquered wood. My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up to read Enzo’s message.

Got a lead. He’s on camera entering Woody’s Bar and Grill two hours ago. No footage of him leaving. Not sure what happened to him.

I spring up from my seat, tossing some cash down on the table to cover our bill and walk out of the room. Joe and Rocco hurry out behind me, stomping down the dimly lit hallway to keep up. We burst out the back door, and I bark out directions, climbing into my car.

I nearly run two traffic lights speeding to Woody’s, Joe and Rocco hot on my tail. We get across town in record time and slip through the back door. Vince is nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” I growl, punching the metal emergency door open and stepping into the cool night again.

We spend hours following dead-end leads and scouring every place Vince might have gone but come up with nothing.

By the time Joe and Rocco suggest calling it a night, I’m ready to explode. My blood pressure surges, building painful pressure behind my eyes, and I’ve reduced myself to grunting out one-word answers.

This isn’t the way I want Lux to wake up and see me tonight. I need to get a hold of myself.

Uncle Joe suggests heading back to Lita’s for one last late-night drink, and I agree, needing the time and space to cool down. We shoot the shit in a private room and the bourbon flows freely.

It’s only hours later, when Joe and Rocco haul my sorry ass into a taxi, that I realize I’m absolutely wasted.