Page 20 of Sin City Obsession (De Salvo Empire #1)

Chapter ten

Possession

Erik Gwathney twisted in place at the sound of his name, an unmarked duffel bag hanging off his shoulder that looked so weighted down it threatened to topple him.

His store-bought, pinstriped suitcoat hung open, emphasizing the subtly misaligned fit over his lean shoulders and draping down too far past where his hips should be.

Beneath the coat, the forty-eight-year-old loan shark wore a dark green button-up with solid black slacks over dark green fuzzy slippers .

Alessa fought back a snort. Fuzzy freakin’ slippers?

She’d worn some herself, sure, but the visual the man in front of her made, looking like he’d been on the verge of running out in a blind panic—having thought to grab a bag of cash but forgotten to put on real shoes—was hilarious. She was tempted to take a picture.

Gwathney blinked so hard his whole head dipped down for a split-second.

Then indignation overrode the shock and fear that had paled his features before and he straightened, as if squaring his scrawny shoulders would intimidate her.

“Who the hell’re you? What the hell are you doin’ bustin’ into my—” His eyes widened again as the door behind her clicked closed.

Alessa didn’t need to look to recognize the warming presence that came to stand just behind her shoulder. So she kept her stare on the blustering moron.

“R-Rocco Cavallo…”

“So you know my face,” Rocco said, his tone calm like the air minutes before a storm.

Gwathney swallowed and tightened his grip on the strap over his shoulder. “I don’t do business with you,” he said. “I don’t owe your people money. You don’t own me.”

“All of that is correct,” Rocco replied. His hand swung into Alessa’s peripheral vision and she realized he was indicating her, his palm up and open. “She is the one you’ll be answering to.”

Gwathney’s eyes darted back to her as if he’d already forgotten she was there.

Asshole. But Alessa kept the opinion to herself.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t somewhat used to being swiftly ignored or otherwise forgotten in the presence of nearly any man.

It was too common an occurrence. On principle, she raised her chin.

“Answer a question for me real quick, just so we can all be sure this isn’t some horrendous misunderstanding,” she said, pretending she had all the time and patience in the world.

It was plain on his face that her request threw him off and he shifted his weight. Seconds passed before he lifted his free hand and scratched at his head, which drew her attention to his unflatteringly receded hairline. “What question?” he finally asked.

Alessa poured on her most saccharine smile. “Do you employ a man by the name of Ralph George?”

Gwathney’s mouth opened, he blinked again, and he snapped his jaw shut. His brow furrowed, the poor lighting in the hall making his eyes look darker than they had in his photo. “You fly all the way out from Jersey to ask about Ralph? What, he ruffle your precious feathers?”

The lighting wasn’t so bad that she missed the way his eyes raked over her, or the sneer that curled his lips.

Rocco was in motion before Alessa could think to block him.

She had a moment of wanting to drop her head against a brick wall, but then he had hold of Gwathney by the throat and was pinning the smaller male to the wall.

“Perhaps you misunderstood me, Erik,” Rocco said, a hard edge cutting into his voice.

“When I said you would be answering to this woman, I didn’t realize you required me to spell out the extent of the thought.

You will speak to her politely , and if you should choose not to, at that point, I will motivate you to reconsider. ”

Alessa had never been so oddly aroused and irritated at the same time.

She was supposed to be taking charge of this specific job.

Gwathney was her responsibility. Interrogating him, scaring him, finding and using whatever tool made him the least comfortable to extract all the relevant information from him—that was her job.

She didn’t need help. She didn’t need or want anyone thinking she was incapable.

But damn if it didn’t do something for her to see Rocco’s rope fraying on her behalf.

Maybe she wasn’t immune to that alpha male nonsense, after all.

Gwathney coughed roughly and Alessa shoved the reflection aside for a later time.

Rocco took a step back as Gwathney sank to his knees, then his haunches, on the floor. “That was your warning.”

Alessa waited until Rocco had rejoined her side, silently appreciating that he at least retreated when he wasn’t flexing his muscles, and aimed a picture-of-patience smile at the still-heaving male on the floor. “Do you remember my question? Or should I repeat it?”

Gwathney’s nostrils flared as he rubbed at his throat.

For a moment he looked as if he were choking, his jaw locked and cheeks puffed, then he swallowed and said, “Ralph works for me, yeah.” He cleared his throat, adjusted the strap still over his shoulder, and used the wall to push back to his feet.

“Listen, if Ralph … y’know, if he bothered you, he shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry about that.

I don’t know you, lady. Means I didn’t ask him to look into you, or make contact, nothing like that.

” He cleared his throat again, despite that his voice hadn’t choked up.

“Sometimes … Ralph gets a little out of hand when I can’t keep a close eye on him, you know? Not always. But sometimes.”

Alessa’s gut rolled and she was pretty sure her mask slipped.

Gwathney was obviously speaking in carefully parsed code for sexual assault, trying not to put words in her mouth on the obvious off-chance he was wrong while making it sound like he understood.

And from everything he was saying, it was clear Ralph hadn’t suddenly developed a wild hair in Newark.

Ralph George had a history.

And Gwathney had still sent that kind of man across the country, with nothing less than open permission to stalk a young, believed single woman and scare her into compliance.

The nausea in Alessa’s stomach froze over for a long second. Holy fuck. It might even have been a long-running game of theirs. Sonofabitch. The ice melted, evaporating against the surge of heat sparked with a fresh internal fury. She didn’t make an effort to keep any of it off her face.

Gwathney finally stopped incriminating himself.

“Thank you for verifying what I believed to be true,” Alessa said through clenched teeth. “You’ll be coming with us, Gwathney.”

Gwathney slid a slipper-covered foot backwards as if he thought he could still escape. “I would rather not…”

“Yeah,” Alessa said, starting forward, “that wasn’t a suggestion.”

Gwathney choked on some kind of outcry and threw himself around in a sloppy attempt to flee .

Alessa grabbed hold of his bouncing duffel, threw her weight entirely in the opposite direction, and added a sweeping kick of her leg to make sure she landed him squarely on his ratty ass.

The duffel handle ripped and the bag rolled out of reach, in Rocco’s direction.

She snatched up Gwathney’s nearest wrist before he could catch his breath, hauled his arm up and awkwardly behind him at the most uncomfortable angle she reasonably could, then stepped on that hand while she stretched for the other arm.

Within a few seconds she had both wrists zip-tied together and the bastard back on his feet.

Rocco was watching with a smoldering grin, the duffel under one arm.

Alessa raised a brow. “Whatever money’s in there is probably no good. I can’t imagine this guy’s that clever.”

“Hey!”

She shoved him into the wall without releasing his arm, just to shut him up.

Rocco’s smirk only darkened. “Oh, I thought of that. Frankly, even if it was squeaky clean, I wouldn’t want this shitstain’s money. But I have the perfect use for it, assuming it isn’t.”

“I’m listening.”

He tilted his head back toward the door, where Emanuele presumably waited, and pulled it open for them. “I heard there’s a group of neighborhood street racers who recently had a bunch of their expensive cars shot to hell. Bet they’d love a generous, anonymous donation. ”

As Alessa barked out an uncontrollable, short laugh, Emanuele called to them from deeper into the lobby. “That is the most unexpected entrance line I think I’ve ever heard.”

Alessa pulled her grumbling, bruised captive with her through the doorway. “Found Gwathney. Kind of want to beat on him with a jagged stick for about a year.” Her gaze dropped to the unconscious lump of muscle by Emanuele’s feet. “Are we taking that charmer, too?”

Emanuele shrugged. “I didn’t figure it could hurt. And he was rude to you.” He tipped his head. “That’s a proven no-go.”

“Man’s got a point,” Rocco said with a grunt.

Alessa rolled her eyes. “Okay, boys. Sure. But we don’t have enough car for both of them. I vote we dogpile them in the back.”

Emanuele snickered.

“Too much risk, unfortunately,” Rocco said. “Their transport should be outside by now.”

Alessa shrugged. “Fine. I can live with that, too.”

Gwathney tried to jerk from her grip as if thinking she’d stopped paying him attention. “L-let me go! I didn’t mess with the Cavallos!”

Alessa cut him a glare. “No, asshat.” She shot out a foot and kicked the side of his knee, causing him to go almost completely limp.

Then she reached around and took a fistful of the shirt beneath his chin, forcing his face up so she could glare down at him.

“You and your dog crossed the fucking De Salvos.”

“Oh, welcome back, sir!” Rocco’s assistant, Carla, trilled as soon as he rounded the corner.

There was no other path to his office and it was the middle of the day, and particularly since he himself had been sidelined in the interest of being available to Alessa, having Carla on-site for at least a few hours was necessary.