Page 28 of No Longer Mine (Rags & Riches #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dimitri

Being a politician was boring. Budgets, bill proposals, and committee meetings. It was all wearing on me. I hated how much I needed to be there, though. I couldn’t fight back against my father if I wasn’t in the seat.

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, exhaustion creeping in. Another pointless meeting down. Another full schedule ahead. Even with London and Presley handling most of my affairs, my days were still packed with handshakes and conversations I barely tolerated.

I slid into the back seat of my car. Don was already waiting, his hands loose on the wheel. He didn’t say anything at first; just glanced at me through the rearview mirror, eyes sharp as always.

“You look like shit,” he finally said.

I smirked, tilting my head back against the seat. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

He pulled into traffic, navigating the streets with ease. “You need a drink. Or a woman. Or both.”

The thought had crossed my mind. I did need a distraction. But there was only one woman my mind kept circling back to.

I should’ve been focused on Tony Galphonzo and the loose ends Alexei and I were tying up. I should’ve been thinking about my next move in my father’s slow-burn downfall. Instead, I was thinking about a thief with red hair and a reckless mouth.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I answered it quickly. “Benson.”

“Tony is on the move.”

I’d been waiting months for this moment. He was a slippery little bastard with top-notch security.

I straightened in my seat, fingers tightening around the phone. “Where?”

Benson’s voice was calm, calculated. “Warehouse district, down by the docks. Looks like he’s meeting someone. Could be nothing, could be an exchange.”

Could be our opportunity.

Don glanced at me through the rearview, already shifting lanes. He knew the deal. Knew that when Benson called with something like this, plans changed.

“I’ll be there in ten,” I said, hanging up.

The tension in my chest coiled tighter, a slow burn of anticipation that had nothing to do with the politics suffocating me. This was what I thrived on. The chase. The kill. And Tony had been slithering through the cracks for too long.

My fingers drummed against my knee as the car sped through the city, cutting through traffic like a blade. Don’s eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t like guns. I don’t want to barge in there. We will park in the distance and wait for him.”

“Follow him out?” Don knew the drill. We’d gone over this too many times. He was my alibi and also… my help.

“Yes, Benson is watching the feed and will notify us when anything changes.”

We approached the warehouse district, the scent of oil and brine thick in the air. Don pulled into an alleyway a block away, cutting the lights as we came to a silent stop.

“Two SUVs inside,” Benson’s voice came through the speaker on my phone. “Looks like they’re wrapping up. He won’t be here much longer.”

Perfect.

I exhaled through my nose, leaning back against the seat as I watched through the windshield. The rusted-out warehouse loomed ahead, a dim glow spilling from the gaps in the corrugated metal walls.

Tony stepped out first, flanked by two men, his silhouette sharp against the floodlights.

Don clicked his tongue. “You sure you don’t wanna just take them out here?”

I pressed my lips together. “No, I need to know who his boss is. He came from nowhere, nothing, and now he’s trying to run an entire empire in my family’s district. I don’t think so.”

“He’s taking a call,” Benson’s voice came through the speaker again, and I watched as Tony waved his hands around wildly. He wasn’t happy with what was going down.

“Can you tap into it?”

Benson hummed on the other end. “No, not without them noticing.”

I swore. “Okay, we might have to go back to square one. If we scare him tonight, he could go into hiding again. That’s the last thing we need. I don’t want to drag this out.”

Patience was a virtue I never fucking had. But tonight? Tonight, I needed it. If we spooked Tony, he’d vanish again, slipping through the cracks like a cockroach.

I clenched my jaw as Don pulled the car away from the warehouse. The temptation to pull him out of his safe little hidey-hole right now was strong. But that wasn’t my game. Guns, brute force—those were for desperate men. I wasn’t desperate. I was patient. Calculated.

And Tony? He had no fucking clue he was being hunted.

“Keep an eye on him,” I told Benson. “I want to know his routes, where he sleeps, where he eats, and where he thinks he’s safe.”

Benson hummed in approval. “Already on it. He’s paranoid, but he’s sloppy. Changes locations, but he always goes back to a handful of places.”

Perfect.

I leaned my head back against the seat, letting the streetlights flicker across my face. “We’ll wait until he gets comfortable again. The moment he thinks we’ve backed off, we remind him that he doesn’t get to breathe easy.”

Don smirked, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Slow suffocation. I like it.”

So did I.

Three Days Later

Benson tracked his movements to three main locations—an upscale penthouse in Midtown, a rundown motel in Queens, and a brownstone in Brooklyn. He never stayed in one place for too long, but he always came back to them.

The first night, we just watched.

The second night, we made him feel watched.

We killed the power in his brownstone for exactly thirty minutes. Just enough time to make him sweat, to make him think.

The third night? I left a little message.

Tony liked to visit a high-end cigar lounge in the Financial District. He had a private humidor, always stocked with expensive Cuban cigars. Benson made sure the locks weren’t an issue, and while Tony was out, I slipped inside.

I didn’t take anything. I didn’t trash the place.

I just left a single cigar clipped at the end, resting on his favorite ashtray.

It wasn’t touched. It wasn’t lit.

It was just waiting.

He took the bait.

Benson had eyes on him the moment he stepped into the cigar lounge. The second he saw that clipped cigar waiting for him, untouched, perfectly placed—he panicked. Panicked men always make mistakes.

I stood in the alley of the lounge, shrouded in shadows, the night thick and suffocating.

It smelled like rain, like city grime, like the lingering scent of a man who knew he was running out of time.

The back door creaked open, and I stayed perfectly still.

Tony stepped out, looking over his shoulder, his breath ragged, shoulders hunched.

He thought he was being smart, slipping out the back instead of using the front entrance.

I smiled to myself. Smart men knew when they were being hunted.

Stupid men thought they could outrun the inevitable.

He wasn’t going to see me—not yet. I wanted him to feel this. To soak in the paranoia I was feeding him, to let it seep into his skin and sit in his bones.

I followed, silent, calculated, my steps lining up with the distant hum of traffic, the occasional gust of wind rattling through the alley.

He pulled out his phone, muttering curses under his breath. I knew exactly what he was about to do—call whoever he thought could save him.

Benson cut the signal before the call could connect.

Tony’s breath hitched, his pace quickening.

I let him take five more steps, then I stepped into his path. His body collided with mine, a startled grunt leaving his lips as he stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. His face went ghost-white the moment his eyes met mine.

“Going somewhere?” I asked, my voice smooth, unbothered.

I stepped closer. He stepped back. Like a dance. Like prey that realized too late that the predator wasn’t toying with him anymore.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” I said. My hands were in my pockets. No weapons, no threats. Just words.

Tony’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know what you think is going on?—”

I cut him off with a sharp chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s funny. Because I think you know exactly what’s going on.”

The silence between us stretched, thick as smoke.

He licked his lips. “Look, I don’t know what that fuck-wad told your brother, but it wasn’t true.

Okay? I’m not moving in on your territory.

I’m not doing anything to his girls.” He spread his hands out in front of him.

“Look, I thought you were for the people now.”

One of my brows raised at him mentioning my seat in the council now. I tilted my head, watching him scramble for an angle, something—anything—that would make me back off.

“That’s cute,” I murmured. “You think politics changed who I am. That sitting in a chair and listening to budget proposals somehow makes me softer.” I took another step forward, and he took another step back, his spine kissing the brick wall behind him. No more room to run.

His breath hitched.

“I am for the people, Tony,” I continued, my voice smooth. “I’m just very particular about which ones.”

He swallowed hard. “I swear, man. Whatever you think I did?—”

I let out a low hum, pretending to consider his words, but my patience was running thin. I let the silence stretch again, thick and suffocating. Tony’s knee twitched like he was thinking of running.

Wrong move.

My hand shot out, fisting his collar, yanking him forward before slamming him back against the wall. The force knocked the air out of his lungs, his hands flying up in surrender as his phone clattered to the ground.

“I already know what you did.” My voice dropped lower, deadly quiet. “I’m just giving you a chance to tell me who you did it for.”

He sputtered, shaking his head, trying to play innocent. I tightened my grip, pressing my forearm against his throat—not hard enough to cut off air, but enough to make sure he felt it.

“I—I can’t,” he gasped, his fingers scrabbling at my arm. “If I tell you, I’m dead.”

The laugh burst from me before I could stop it.

“Oh, Tony, Tony, Tony. You think you’ll actually get to live anyway?

” I applied more pressure on his neck, and this time I let it knock him out.

His body slumped forward, and I easily threw him over my shoulder.

Don was waiting with the SUV at the other end of the alley.

Benson already tapped into all of the cameras in a two-mile radius.

Almost too easy.