Page 25 of Ruthless Lord

Stefano

I ’m barely home for a few hours before Davide’s blowing up my phone. “There was another break-in,” he says breathlessly. “Security got here before I could, but they said nobody was on the premises.”

“That was fucking quick,” I snarl, frustration filling my chest as I grab my clothes and yank them on. Charlie watches me from the bed curiously. She’s only half awake and squinting through the dark. “I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up the phone and finish getting dressed. It’s ten minutes past two in the morning and I should be deep asleep. Instead, I’m already going back to fucking work.

“What happened?” Charlie asks, sounding sleepy. “Are you okay?”

“Just some problem at the depot.”

“Now? This late? Come back to bed.”

“I wish I could.” I pause, looking back at her. I’m tempted to go over and kiss her gently. Do I still have a pass on the rule? But no, if I start pushing against the edges of our agreement, I’ll end up throwing the whole thing away.

“Aren’t you the boss?” she whines, stretching with a sigh.

“That just means I have more responsibility.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No. Go back to sleep.”

“Good. I wasn’t really going to.” She rolls over with a groan. “Don’t wake me up when you get back.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I’m smiling as I get into my truck. I don’t know what it is about that girl, but she makes me feel something.

Protective, obsessed, light and young, better than I have in a long time.

Even when she’s sleepy and only partially awake, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.

It’s a little terrifying, but that makes it better.

I have to remind myself that this is a good thing. I’m supposed to want my wife. It’s not bad if she’s wriggling herself deeper into my brain every day we’re together. Anyone else would be happy about it.

But I know better.

I’ve been around this game for too long.

I’ve seen relationships crash and burn a thousand different times.

I’m too old for Charlie and I’m way outside of her league.

She’s from one of the oldest, richest families in the area, and I’m just some kid with a violent past and a vendetta against the world.

I hurt all the fucking time, and all I ever want to do is fight.

She’s good. I’m rotten. There’s no getting past the truth.

No matter how much she makes me feel, our relationship is doomed to failure.

I’m in a bleak mood when I arrive at the depot.

Davide’s waiting for me out front, which is a rarity.

He’s a big guy, dark hair, dark eyes, and in good shape.

Whenever I mention my tech guy, people always picture some skinny string-bean dork, but that’s not Davide.

He approaches his physical fitness with the same level of obsessive devotion as he does everything else in his life.

He just doesn’t really like people.

I asked him about that once. He only shrugged and said, computers make more sense .

Couldn’t argue with that.

“What’s the story?” I ask him, skipping the handshake. He’ll do it, but I know he doesn’t like it.

“We’re not totally sure what happened yet,” he admits, scrubbing the back of his head as we walk out into the trucking yard.

“The cameras all went out at the same time right at one-thirty in the morning. The motion sensors caught someone walking through the yard, which triggered the new alarms I set up. That scared them off, from what I can tell. The cameras came back a few minutes later.”

I stare grimly around us. “You’re telling me someone hacked your security?”

“It doesn’t feel good to admit, but that’s how it looks.”

“Well, shit. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“There’s more.” He leads me to one of the back fence gates. It’s an enormous thing, two-layered, and wrapped in more barbed wire than a prison. This portion of the fence is essentially impenetrable. “They came in through here.”

I raise my eyebrows and look at him. “Seriously?”

“They had a keycard.” He motions to the side employee entrance. It’s just a smaller door in the fence made from reinforced steel with a scanner entry. “Giorgio’s name shows up in the logs.”

I let that sink in. Giorgio’s one of my most loyal and dependable employees. I can’t imagine he showed up in the middle of the night unless he had work to do. And even then, he wouldn’t run off if the security triggered. He’d stick around and fix shit.

“I want to talk to him.”

“He’s on the way in now, but he already swore up and down he’s been at home all night. I hacked his phone and his GPS data suggests he’s not lying.”

“Then what? Someone stole his card?”

“Or spoofed his identity. That’s possible too. Whoever we’re dealing with is sophisticated.”

I glare at the fence before stomping back to the depot. “I don’t like this. First those transmitters and now this. Someone’s targeting us, and I want to know why.”

“There’s one more thing, speaking of the transmitters. I finally managed to locate where they’ve been uploading to.”

I stop outside the depot entrance. “You gonna keep teasing me all night or are you gonna make the first move?”

He gives me a tired look. “It’s somewhere in the suburbs, out near Radnor.”

“That’s rich people territory. Can you be more specific?”

“Wish I could, but that’s the best I got.”

I let that sink in, trying to figure out who the hell in Radnor would want to fuck with my trucking depot. It’s not a long list.

Right now there are exactly zero names on it.

“Keep digging. We need to find these bastards and put a stop to this.”

Davide nods and walks off, probably heading back to his cave. I linger in the main repair section of the depot, looking at a few trucks getting refitted for long routes.

Who would want to break into this place? And who would care about our trucking routes? If I were a paranoid man, I’d think it was the Feds trying to sniff out our smuggling operation. But we’ve got enough of their number on our payroll. That shouldn’t be an issue.

I can’t put it together. But I can feel the problem circling around me like hungry wolves.

I reach my office, put my feet up on my desk, and glare at the clock. Charlie’s fast asleep right now, curled up under the sheets, all alone.

I should be there with her.

Not in this fucking place.

But I have a job to do, and even if my wife’s a big distraction, I can’t afford to give in to temptation.

It’s going to be another late night and long day.

Nobody knows a goddamn thing.

That’s my only takeaway from four hours of hanging around the depot talking to Giorgio and all his guys.

Except he did mention that he’s missing his keycard. He seemed pretty ashamed of that and had no clue where it ended up.

I’m guessing our thief lifted it at some point.

A more vindictive man might punish Giorgio for fucking up and losing his security card. But I’ve known him too long to hold it over his head. People make mistakes all the time, and it didn’t end up hurting us in the long run.

But who took it and why?

I trudge into my house at six in the morning. I smell coffee already brewing, which means Charlie’s awake. I pour myself a cup, drink it all down, pour myself another, and set a second pot to brew for her. Slowly, I make my way upstairs, aching all over, knees on fire and spine a wreck.

I don’t see her anywhere. Not in bed, not in the bathroom. I hear a hanger squeak in the closet, and I go over to the door, curious about what’s going on, only to find my wife rifling through my side.

She doesn’t know I’m watching. I can be quiet when I want to be, and right now, I’m too damn curious about what the hell she’s doing. Charlie shoves her hands in my suit pockets, sliding them aside, and ends up down on her hands and knees, looking through my shoes.

“You lose something in there?”

She yelps, tries to sit up, and bangs the back of her head on a shelf. Groaning, she sits back, rubbing her head.

I’m down at her side in a heartbeat. “Shit, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She grins at me sheepishly. “Didn’t hear you come home.”

“Probably because you’re too busy searching my side of the closet.”

Her face turns red for a second. Something seems off about her reaction. It’s like she’s embarrassed that she got caught, but I don’t even know what she could be looking for in our own damn closet.

“I lost an earring,” she says finally.

“And you thought it ended up in my pockets?”

“Maybe? In the wash?”

“I get my suits dry cleaned.”

“Oh, right.” She keeps rubbing her head, and I wonder if she hit it too hard. I’m tempted to make her go to the hospital to get checked for a concussion, but that’s probably overkill. “I guess that’s why I didn’t find it.”

“Want me to keep an eye out?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

I pause, waiting patiently. She keeps smiling awkwardly at me. Something about this situation feels extremely off. “Want to tell me what it looks like?” I ask finally.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” She clears her throat and pushes herself unsteadily to her feet. I stand and brace her shoulder, but she shrugs free. “It’s just a gold hoop.”

I frown slightly. “You’re rich. What do you care if you lose a gold hoop?”

“It’s my favorite.”

“Alright, I’ll look around for it.”

“Thank you.” She beams at me and hurries out of the closet.

What’s a girl worth more than a small country care about a simple gold hoop?

Unless there’s some kind of sentimental attachment to it that she doesn’t want to talk about.

I hesitate, looking around the closet for some clue to what she was really doing in here, before following her into the main room.

“I’m fighting tonight,” I tell her, deciding this is a good time to bring it up. “And I want you to come.”

She starts and cocks her head. Slowly, she sinks to the edge of the bed. “Why?” she asks.

“I like when you’re around.”

“No, I mean, the fight.”

“Been a stressful morning. I want to blow off steam.”

“Right. Okay.” She takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Anything I can do to change your mind?”

“Get rid of the rule.”

Her smile tightens. “No thanks.”

“Then I’m fighting. I want you there.”

“It’s not like I can actually do anything for you.”

“Call it moral support. You’re also handy with gauze and tape.”

“I’ve been told that before.” She shakes her head, looking down at the floor. “I really hate it, you know.”

“Maybe it’d help you get used to the idea if you show up and make yourself watch.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. I don’t rush her. Let the girl process, and maybe she’ll make the right choice on her own.

I get what she’s thinking. Watching a man try to beat me to death with his bare hands probably doesn’t feel good. I’m getting used to the idea that she actually cares whether I walk out of the warehouse with my skull intact.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But only because you want me to.” Her smile broadens. “And you asked so nicely.”

“I’ll get on my knees, but you’re the one that’ll be saying please.”

“Oh, wow, great line.”

“Thanks, I practice it in the mirror.”

She laughs, leaning sideways. I love that sound. Her tongue presses against her teeth, and I could drag her mouth against mine viciously if only I weren’t bound by this frustrating rule.

“Just when I start thinking you’re an unfunny and humorless old man, you surprise me.”

“I have that effect on people.” I finish my coffee with a sigh. “I gotta get back to work.”

“You just came home for that?” She nods at the mug in my hand.

I open my mouth to tell her the truth. I came home to see you. She gives me more energy and excitement than this fucking coffee does. But instead, I only grunt. “It’s better here.”