Page 4 of Precious Hazard (Perfectly Imperfect #11)

Leaders like Salvatore Ajello are rare in our world, and I would wager nearly unheard of if one considers that world to be the dark underbelly of legitimate society.

He’s the type of man who never retreats from the battlefield if it means leaving his men behind.

One who has always put the welfare of his people, the Family, above all else.

He nearly died for it. The crazy fucker.

That is the reason I respect him, the reason he’s always had my fidelity. There’s never been a time I did not follow Ajello’s command. Is refusing to marry Drago Popov’s sister worth turning my back on this man? My leader? My friend?

“Are you really going to put a bullet in my head if I don’t do it?”

He looks at me over the rim of his glass. “No. But I’d greatly appreciate it if you’d just agree.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Honor.

Loyalty.

Commitment.

Along with traditions, those are the principles I’ve followed throughout my life, even before I swore my allegiance to Cosa Nostra at eighteen.

A decade ago, when I accepted the privilege of being Ajello’s underboss, I pledged my fealty and duty to him as the Head of the Family. I’ve taken great pride in doing so.

But my loyalty toward Ajello goes beyond my dedication to him as my boss. I’ll be eternally grateful to the man, even though he’s made it clear I don’t owe him a thing for his help. Not that it matters how he feels about it, he’s earned my unwavering support.

“Wanna hear something?” I ask. “The day of Popov’s atrocious wedding carnival—”

“ Svadba , you mean?”

“Yeah, that. Once I parked my car and was headed toward his mammoth house, a black cat crossed the road right in front of me.”

“Don’t tell me you believe in foolish superstitions.”

“I didn’t. Not until that day, that is. Ten minutes later, though, I met Drago’s sister.” I shake my head. “A pack of rabid dogs is less of a menace than she is. So you tell me there’s nothing to that bad omen.”

“Some cultures believe that black cats bring you good luck.”

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Should I take that to mean you’ll marry the woman, then?”

“Yes.” A sigh escapes me. “But Tara Popov will never agree. She hates me. Probably even more than I hate her.”

“Hmm. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to kill her brother. You’ll need to find a way to fix it. Flowers might help. Compliments, definitely. Try asking her out for coffee first.”

I squeeze my temples, groaning on the inside. Salvatore Ajello giving me advice on how to court a woman? “Because that worked so damn well for you, boss?”

“Well, you could always threaten to annihilate everyone she holds dear. When flowers failed, that’s what got me Milene. Eventually. As far as women are concerned, the key is not to go soft around them.”

Ajello’s phone starts ringing, and he shrugs as he takes it out.

“ Cara mia , you’re still up? … No, I didn’t have time to get the cat food, yet.

I’ll do it as soon as I’m finished with Arturo.

… Yes, I’m aware that Kurt has been throwing up since yesterday.

The damn pest probably ate another gross bug and— …

What do you mean he scratched you?” Spinning around, Ajello races toward the office door.

“Stay put. I’m coming up right now. I’ll call Ilaria on the way.

… I don’t care if it’s just a nick! … No, I’m not overreacting! What if it gets infected?”

A draft rushes through the room from the force of Ajello yanking the door open. He pauses at the threshold, phone still plastered to his ear, and glances back at me. “You have two months to convince your future bride to marry you.”

The door slams shut in his wake, but I can still hear the sound of his fading voice while he continues making a fuss about his wife’s damn scratch.

Jesus. If anyone had told me a few years ago that Salvatore Ajello would be such a goner for a woman, I’d have laughed in their face.

It’s a tragedy, really. At least no one would ever catch me losing my mind like this. Especially over an unwanted wife.

Am I seriously going along with this circus?

Yeah, I am. I gave my word, and no one can make me go against it. Most of all, not Tara fucking Popov.

Grabbing the phone out of my pocket, I dial Nino Gambini.

As our head of security, he keeps a close eye on anyone who might impact the Family.

Considering the significance of our collaboration with the Serbian organization, he must know Popov’s sister’s whereabouts.

Since Ajello has already kicked things off, setting this ridiculously short deadline before the nuptials, I need to get into gear immediately.

Finding out what my wife-to-be is up to these days is the first step in getting my shit rolling.

“I need to know where I can find Tara Popov,” I spit out the moment the call connects.

“Hold on. Let me check the logs in her file.” The rapid taps of a keyboard drift across the line.

“You have a file on her?”

“We have files on everyone we’ve been in contact with over the past decade, and on anyone who’s been deemed a special interest .” The tapping and clicking continue until Nino blurts, “Here it is. For the past week, Ms. Popov has been filling in as a server at her brother’s club. What’s today?”

“Wednesday.”

“Her shift ends at midnight.”

Pulling up my sleeve, I glance at my watch. I’ve got just under two hours to get my ass to Naos. “Thanks, Nino.”

My long stride carries me across Ajello’s office. I pause briefly to grab my jacket off the back of the couch, and then I’m out the door.

Heading to meet my prospective wife.

While she’s waiting tables at a damn nightclub.

Fucking great.

***

New York traffic sucks.

“Will you fucking move, you idiot?” I hit the steering wheel with the heel of my palm.

The car in front of me doesn’t move. Of course it doesn’t. There is a line of at least ten others clogging the lane. The one beside me isn’t any better. If I don’t get to Naos in the next five minutes, I’ll miss my fiancée .

“Fuck it.” I crank the steering wheel to the right and floor the gas pedal, sliding into a back alley between a couple of walk-ups.

I don’t actually have to see Tara Popov tonight, but I want to get this marriage deal ironed out as soon as possible.

If I don’t, this shit is going to hang over my head, haunting me in my sleep.

I can’t have that, not with all the other crap that’s been keeping me from getting any decent shut-eye lately.

Our buyers are breathing down my neck because our most recent drug shipment was delayed.

But instead of dealing with that, I’m fielding stupid-ass noise complaints at one of our buildings in Chinatown.

Our workers have been gutting the basement, and Wang, that Triad motherfucker, is demanding we limit demolition to three hours per day.

Three fucking hours! It’d take months to finish the custom storage space at that rate, and I needed it done yesterday.

Those are the real problems that have me dragging my ass come the break of dawn. I’ll be damned if I let myself lose even a minute of sleep because of that woman.

With my foot heavy on the gas, I fly through the narrow alleys in my Land Rover SUV.

Typically, I’m a safe driver, preferring not to draw unwanted attention to myself.

But with everything that’s been going on lately, my patience has worn thin.

Traffic jams aren’t helping my mood, either.

I’ve already picked up a couple of speeding tickets in the past month; one more and I’ll get my license suspended.

Somehow, I can’t bring myself to care about that today.

I’m nearing Drago’s club when a scrawny black cat leaps off the dumpster up ahead, landing in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” I slam on the brakes and lay on the horn.

The blasted thing doesn’t even move. It stands frozen in place with its back arched and tail all bushy, while my headlights reflect in its wide eyes.

My tires screech as I throw the car in reverse and then gun it, yanking the wheel to the right and shooting out of the alley onto the main street.

If I end up missing Tara because of a cat, a goddamned black cat , I’ll— Fuck!

There’s only a couple of minutes left until the end of Tara’s shift, so I step on the gas, eyeing Naos’s main entrance less than a block away.

The yelp of a siren sounds behind me, followed by the cherries and berries lighting up my rearview. A quick glance in the side mirror confirms a police cruiser on my tail.

I groan. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”