Page 15 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Luca

I can feel Ariel is hiding something from me. The look in her eyes gave her away but I didn't press. Not yet. I plan on breaking it out of her. Little by little. I get into my car and drive off.

I trust my men to keep an eye on her. Some of them might be rough around the edges, but they’re loyal and that’s what matters. Still, my mind keeps circling back to today. I gnawed my teeth as my hand tightened on the wheel, it was a close call. Too fucking close.

The Italians. That senile old bastard Romano. How dare he try to mess with us? Does he really think that just because Pops is dead, he can cross a line?

He and Pops had an agreement. I was there when it was made. I might’ve only been ten, but I understood everything that was said. Pops was my whole damn world.

We did everything together—every deal, every drive, every fucking war. And then it all came crashing down. Cancer. Late stage. He should’ve taken better care of himself. He should’ve fought harder. He should’ve stayed.

After he died, I shut down. I didn’t feel shit for years. Until Ariel. Until that stubborn girl came stomping into my life with those sweet words and scared eyes, and for the first time, I started to feel again.

I started to see color in a world that had gone gray. A voice in my head whispers that’s the reason I’m keeping her close.

Maybe I’m using her to fill a void. But I shove the thought away. No. I’m keeping her close because she might be a spy. She saw too much. Knows too much. I have to keep her in check.

That’s all it is. I keep telling myself that. Over and over. ridding myself of the thought that she meant more to me. I shake my head to clear her from my thoughts.

Romano started the fire first, and I’ll be more than happy to return the favor. But I need to be sure if Vito is in on this too. My gut says yes. And my gut’s rarely wrong.

I reach under the dashboard, behind a hidden panel near the steering column, and pull out my secure burner phone, the one I use only for crew business. The one no one can trace. I flip it open and punch in a set of numbers.

“Alessio,” I say as soon as he picks up, my voice low and tight. “I need you to do some digging for me.”

“Name it, Don.”

“I want to know if Vito’s been in contact with the Italians. Calls, meetings, whispers in the wind, I want it all. I need to know if that bastard’s the one feeding this fire.”

“On it.”

“One more thing,” I say, my voice dropping lower. “Run a background check on someone. Ariel Lane. She works at the club. I want every fucking thing—where she’s from, who she talks to, what kind of skeletons are in her closet. And I want it like yesterday.”

“Got it, boss.”

I hang up and shove the burner phone back into its hidden compartment beneath the dash. My main phone buzzes. Who the fuck is it? I glance at the screen one hand on the wheel—Claudia. Fuck.

She’s supposed to be retired. Cruising the damn Mediterranean or sipping wine in some Tuscan villa, not blowing up my phone. She never calls unless it’s life or death.

Someone must’ve ratted about what happened today. But who? It sure as hell wasn’t any of my men. I made damn sure of that; I vetted every last one of them when I took over. Cut out anyone loyal to her, root and stem. No mistakes.

It has to be one of the new recruits. She must’ve slipped her rat in with them. I swipe to answer, jaw tight.

“Claudia.”

“No ‘hello, Mother’? No ‘how have you been’? You never cared about pleasantries.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly grown a motherly affection. What do you want?”

“You think you’re ready for this, boy? You’ve been playing boss for five minutes and already attracting heat like a moth to a goddamn bonfire.”

I grit my teeth. “You didn’t call to give me career advice.”

“No. I called because half the city heard those bullets. You poked the Italians, and now you’re bleeding all over my streets. You think that doesn’t affect me?”

“Your city?” I laugh bitterly. “Last time I checked, I earned this position. The family wanted me to lead them, not you.”

“And I see you’re doing a stellar job of that.” Her voice sharpens. “I won’t let you destroy the reputation your father spent years building.

He worked his ass off securing fronts and alliances. You think brute force is leadership? You’re a shadow of him.” I careen around a corner too fast, tires screaming as I narrowly miss hitting a parked car. My jaw clenches.

“I can handle my own shit.”

“Your shit wouldn’t be all over the damn place if you had proper reins on your men. They don’t fear you, that’s why they keep making mistakes. You let them get sloppy, undisciplined. Loyalty without fear is a fantasy. And fantasies get people killed.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for the tension to thicken like smoke. Then she replies, cold and clipped:

“I hope you’re right… for all our sakes.”

The line goes dead. The silence that follows is louder than the words.