Page 1 of Shattered King

Fiorella

T here’s nothing like the smell of grease and a big, fat wrench to get me going in the morning. I blast the local alt-rock station, cover my hair with a cheap, stained bandana, and survey my domain.

It’s a godawful mess. Tools are scattered all over. Car parts lean in teetering stacks. Vehicles in various states of decay and disrepair are parked across the massive garage. Bumpers lean at precarious angles. The concrete floor is stained from years of oil and blood.

In a half hour, this place will be crawling with my father’s men. They’ll tear, break, strip, smash, and chew through the remaining cars until there’s nothing but scrap and parts left. Then the work starts over when the next shipment shows up.

Until then, it’s glorious, and it’s all mine.

I walk through the mess, smiling and humming. This is my happy place. Away from the politics of the family. Away from the expectations of my brother and my father. An oasis in all the madness that is the Serrano Famiglia.

Sitting in the very back corner, in a little space I carved out for myself, is my baby.

She’s beautiful.

Rusty exterior. Interior ripped to shreds. Engine in shockingly good shape though, and an undercarriage rivaling my own. Headlights cracked, tires shredded.

But she’s mine. All freaking mine. A 1972 Alfa Romeo Spider in silver, or at least it was silver twenty years back. Now it’s more like pockmarked gray.

I run my fingers along her curvy sides. She’s just a finicky little thing with two leather seats and a classic interior.

There’s a 2.0-liter twin-cam four-cylinder engine in there, and it purrs like a cat in heat when I get her fired up.

The electrical system needs to be ripped out and rewired, the carburetor is going to be a pain in my sweet ass, and I’m lucky as hell rust didn’t eat her to little Swiss cheese pieces already.

But my sweet baby’s going to sing when I’m done with her.

I get to work. Not much time until the monkeys arrive and ruin my peace and quiet. I gather up my tools and pick up from where I left off yesterday. Finishing this beast of a project is going to take forever, but this isn’t about the end result.

Rebuilding a car is about love. It’s about patience. Those are both things I desperately need to learn because I don’t have much of either left these days.

I’m lost in the work down on my back, my fingers covered in black slick and smelling like crap when I hear a noise at the far end of the garage.

I sit up too fast and bump my head on the undercarriage.

It hurts like freaking hell, and I’m cursing as I slide myself back out from under my baby.

I should still have at least twenty minutes.

“Who’s in early?” I call out, rubbing my head and cursing. “You know I hate it when you assholes?—”

I stare as a man I’ve never seen before comes toward me.

He’s big and muscular. I can tell he’s mafia just at a glance.

There’s something in the dangerous way he stares at me like he’s sizing me up.

Only predators have that look, and I’ve learned to spot it from a mile away.

Fear flutters in my chest, and my breathing comes short. Nobody’s supposed to be here.

Especially not a stranger.

“Are you alone?” he asks. Behind him, more men start pouring into the place. Six of them by my count. All mafia, all armed.

This is really, really bad.

“Who the hell are you?” I stand my ground. My fingers are stained, and I nervously rub them on my shirt. Another ruined top to throw on the mountain of clothes I’ve destroyed over the years.

“My name’s Luca Marino, and you’re in deep shit.”

The name rings a distant bell. The Marino Famiglia’s a big, powerful mafia organization in Philadelphia. We’ve done business with them over the years, but mostly we’ve kept our distance and stuck to our niche. They do drugs; we do stolen cars. It all works out beautifully in the end.

But what the hell is one of their guys doing here?

“I don’t want trouble.” I back away from him and bump into my girl’s side. She rattles on the lifts. My stomach’s twisted with fear, but I refuse to completely back down. A hammer’s within close reach, and I’m tempted to make a grab for it.

But Luca’s eyes drift past me. “Is that an Alfa Romeo?” he asks, brows lifting.

The question rattles me. “1972 Spider,” I say awkwardly.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers, his eyes drifting back to meet my own.

And my chest freaking clenches.

He’s good-looking. Now that I’m getting past the initial shock, I start to really take him in.

Tall and muscular with a lean, athletic build.

His lips are full and his eyes are dark, and his hair’s got that perfectly messy look, cut short on the sides and a bit longer on the top, curling slightly in pushed-back waves.

The stubble on his cheeks makes him seem rugged, and I find my heart fluttering the more I look at him.

I’m not normally into mafia guys. All my life I’ve learned the hard way to turn and run the second a guy in this life shows any interest in me. They’re all the same: selfish, egotistical pricks who only care about themselves.

And even though I know Luca’s probably exactly like all the rest of them, I can’t help the bizarre flare of heat in my belly.

He’s beautiful. Maybe it’s the car talk. Or maybe it’s the dangerous way he stalks toward me. But I find him way more attractive than I should.

Which means all my defenses come online, and I slam my walls into place.

There’s no way in hell I’m letting this guy anywhere near me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I bark, grabbing for that hammer. I grip the handle and hold it up, gritting my teeth like I’m about to strike.

He barely reacts. “Listen, you need to get out of here. We got word there’s a raid coming this morning.”

“Raid? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” He holds out a hand, dark eyes sucking me in. I think about bashing his fingers. “Come with me. I’ll make sure you get back home safe.”

It’s the most absurd thing he could’ve said.

“I don’t even know you.” I skirt sideways, away from him. There’s a back door down the hall past the offices, and I just might make it if I run hard enough. “For all I know, you’re here to kidnap me.”

“You know my family. Your father and my cousin have been in talks about an alliance for weeks. This isn’t a game. I’m here to protect you.”

I hesitate. He could be telling the truth. But nobody talks to me about Famiglia business, and I don’t ask questions. Better not to know.

Except nobody protects me. That was another hard lesson. Those egotistical mafia assholes would happily see my brains blown out so long as it saved their own skin. No, I take care of myself. Nobody ever takes care of me.

And when they do, people die.

I tighten my grip on the hammer. “But why are you here and not someone from my family?”

“I already called them. Your brother said you’d be here. I was the closest and said I’d come pick you up.”

“You know Raf?”

“I know him, and I know you’re Fiorella. I didn’t expect you to be such a fucking mess though.”

Anger flares in my chest. He’s smirking at me like he thinks he’s funny. “What, did you expect some pretty little mafia princess?”

“Basically, yeah. Cute girl sitting in a cute car.”

“Guess you don’t know me at all.”

“Put the hammer down, Fiorella. Or don’t, it doesn’t matter to me. Either way, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Boss,” one of the men calls out. I almost jump at the sound.

I’d been so focused on sexy-beautiful-monster Luca that I forgot about the others.

He’s standing on the far side of the garage, peering out a front window.

Young-looking, same dark hair as Luca, and handsome in his own way.

“Cars just pulled up. I’m counting three. ”

“Shit,” Luca says, turning toward him. “How many, Leo?”

I raise the hammer. This is my chance. I could bring it down on the back of his head and run . But something makes me hold back.

Maybe it’s the way he looked at me. Like he was seeing past the stained, old t-shirt and ratty jeans and seeing the girl underneath all the grease. Or maybe I’m just softer than I like to pretend.

Either way, I can’t do it.

But as soon as he starts toward the windows to check out what’s happening, I turn and bolt.

Maybe I can’t break the guy’s skull, but I sure as hell can run away.

“Fiorella, hold on!”

I tear ass to the hallway, knocking over a table covered in bolts and washers.

They scatter across the floor. I throw myself around the corner and down the short hall, past the floor chief’s office, the accountant’s little closet, the storage room with all the spare parts and tools, and toward the back exit.

But he’s coming after me.

The problem with all this is he might not be lying, but there’s no way for me to say for sure. All I know is I was stuck back there with a bunch of armed men I’d never met before, and there’s nothing I hate more in the world than feeling like I’m trapped.

A shiver runs down my spine at an old memory. Go ahead, Elisa, you drink it. I’ll be fine, I promise . Take as much as you want.

I hit the back door and kick it open. Luca’s coming behind me, his face twisted in frustration.

Sunlight slams me in the eyes. I look around at the weed-strewn back lot and take two steps toward the narrow strip of woods past the blacktop, but I come to a stuttering halt.

There’s a car parked ahead. A big, black truck.

And four men carrying small submachine guns are coming out of its open doors.

“Fuck!” Luca runs into me from behind, knocking me to the ground.

I curse and hit hard, scraping my hands and bashing my right knee on the pavement.

He lands on top of me, drawing his gun, and the sound of bullets rips through the air as he shoots at the armed men.

I cover my ears, a scream dying on my terrified tongue.

They didn’t expect us. Otherwise, we’d be filled with bloody holes by now. Instead, Luca’s one hell of a shot, and he manages to kill two, wound a third, and forces the last one to sprint around behind the SUV into cover.

“Don’t fucking move, I’ve got you,” Luca snarls, possessively grabbing me closer to him. I squirm, not used to being this close to a man. I don’t understand what’s happening. I fully expected him to use me as a meat shield, but instead, he’s putting his own life at risk to save mine.

Two of his men come spilling out behind us. He signals them, and they split up, one going left, the other right. They take down the last armed man without much of a struggle.

“Get off me,” I say, trying to push him away, but Luca’s body is impossibly heavy, dense, and hot. He smells like mint and flowers with a musky, masculine undercurrent. His face is close to mine, and his jaw’s set in a hard line.

Another thrill shoots straight between my legs.

I’m a disgusting freak, but I find this obscenely hot.

“You’re going to get us fucking killed,” he says, finally moving back and hauling me to my feet.

“Shit,” I say as pain flares in my right knee. I gasp and limp slightly, my strength giving out. I must’ve really hurt it when I hit the ground.

“I’ve got you.” He forces me to put an arm around his shoulder. I try to yank back, but he holds onto my hips and keeps me there. The man’s freakishly strong.

“Who are those people?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, hurrying me toward the truck.

“Keys are in the ignition,” one of Luca’s soldiers says. He’s a burly guy with a hooked nose, a massive slab of a human. Terrifying, if I’m honest with myself, but everyone’s kind of scary right about now.

“Get in.” Luca helps me into the back. “Hold on tight and keep your head down.”

“What about the rest of your men?” I ask, staring around wildly. More gunfire breaks out in the garage. I flinch, hating myself a little bit for showing weakness.

“They’ll be alright. You’re the priority right now.” Luca jams my seatbelt into position, his lips inches from mine. “Don’t be a pain in the ass. Just keep your head down.”

He slams the door and gets behind the wheel. “Stefano, go kill those motherfuckers. Meet back at the depot when you’re finished.”

“Gladly,” the big soldier says with a vicious smile. He hurries off, running back to the garage where the fighting’s getting hot. There are screams and more gunfire, and I don’t know how many men are getting killed in there, but I can guess.

“Hold on,” Luca says and hits the gas. The truck jumps forward, wheels spinning as he turns the steering wheel, whipping us around.

“Where are we going?” I manage to ask.

He barrels the truck around the corner and toward the front. Two men are waiting near the other vehicles, but they hesitate. They probably don’t realize what’s going on. It’s not until we’re speeding past that they finally take some shots.

I keep my head down. I’m stubborn, not stupid.

But Luca’s a good driver. He stays calm, and we end up peeling out as he hits a hard turn. Once we’re on the main road, he guns it again, and soon the sound of shooting is only a distant crack and pop, then nothing at all.

I sit there, heart racing. Sweat pours down my back. I pat my jeans and curse softly under my breath. I must’ve left my phone back in the garage, which means I have no way of reaching out to anyone.

Luca’s staring straight ahead, grim and determined.

“Hey, asshole,” I say, leaning forward against the seatbelt. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Back to my place,” he says. “Now just sit back and quit making my life hard. For a girl that was just nearly killed, you’re not very grateful.”

“I’m supposed to thank you for abducting me?”

“You could maybe show some gratitude for the whole ‘saving your life’ thing.”

“You broke my knee.”

“And saved your fucking skull from getting blown off.”

“Where are we going exactly? Does my father know about any of this? Where’s my brother and what about his guys? The shift was supposed to start soon. Were any of them warned?”

But Luca just ignores me, eyes on the road. His jaw works, and when it’s clear he’s not talking anymore, I sit back and try to get my racing heart under control.