Page 12 of Mafia Scars

“Yes,” I said just as he was about to go through the door.

He stopped, turned back to me and searched my eyes. “Yes?”

“Yes. I want to move forward.” I wanted to move forward and needed to. For my own sanity.

“Me too. I care about you a lot, and it kills me to have this tension between us. I miss …us. I miss the way we were before.”

That was one thing I completely agreed with. We had a different sort of friendship. Different to how I was with Max, my supposed ex-partner.

Max who was still in Florida with his family because my father arranged for him to be there so Luc could step in and get close to me.

What a damn mess. All I knew was Max and his family were safe and would be staying where they were for the moment. Or perhaps a better way to put it was, they’d be there until they were told to come home.

It all made me crazy and the tension got worst every day. Sinclaire was the guy that had kept me sane through all these years. Maybe because there was some element of us that had gone past friendship and that wasn’t something I shared with Max.

“I miss us too.” I confessed, bringing my hands together and knitting my fingers.

A gentle smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “So, that means I should have coffee ready when you get to the office?”

“Yeah.” I managed a smile, but that was all.

He tipped his head and left.

I released the breath I’d been holding and leaned down on the counter.

Images of Luc filled my mind, again. He was always there in my mind. Never far away.

Luc.

Luc, why can’t I get you out of my head and forget you?

He was so bad for me. A mobster, someone who worked for my father. Someone powerful enough to take over the family business from the mafia king.

He was someone I needed to forget.

Chapter 3

Luc

* * *

“Trail’s run cold,” Maurice declared. He stepped out of his black sedan and grimaced.

I frowned and rested back against the wall, staring up at the full moon that stood out against the black sky.

Fuck. What should I do now?

This was fruitless, all so fruitless. We’d been trying to track Victor Pertrinkov now for nearly a damn month. I knew the guy was good, but he’d impressed me more by being uncatchable. Not even a fucking glimpse did either of us see of him.

Not since that night when I’d seen him drive by, signaling the air of change.

“What do you want to do?” Maurice joined me at the wall, standing next to me.

“I need to go back to Chicago, Maurice. I need to go soon, but I can’t leave her. Feels like the minute I leave, something bad will happen. Like Victor’s just waiting.”

“You got me, man, and the boys.”

Maurice had more than proven his worth to me. I could trust him with my life. Any of my men were trustworthy. I guess I just didn’t trust anyone enough to take care of my girl.