Page 31

Carly

Laying across his chest, I looked up at him as he laughed boisterously. Christian Moreno was truly a handsome man, with so much love inside him, it boggled my mind that no woman had captured his attention.

Snickering, I muttered, “It’s not funny, Christian. How was I supposed to know he needed a visual? I thought telling him to point and aim was sufficient.”

Wrapping his arms around me, he grinned. “My God, you are priceless.”

“I don’t know about that,” I whispered, looking down at my hands.

“Hey,” he said, lifting my head until I looked into his eyes. “You are perfect just the way you are, Charlotte. I wouldn’t change one damn thing about you. And your trouble is nothing compared to what awaits me. I have three daughters. Girls. Soon enough, they will turn my life upside down. Thank God I have you now, because I had absolutely no fucking clue what I was going to do.”

“Ship them off to a convent?”

“I already checked. They would have to convert to Catholicism first.”

This time I laughed.

“Christian?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think there will ever be a time we can wake up and not worry about all the lies, all the subterfuge, and the constant warring between everyone?”

“I don’t know, baby.” He sighed, holding me tighter. “What I do know is, I am going to do everything in my power to protect you.”

“Christian?”

“Hmm.”

“Kyle told me something before he died.”

I felt him stiffen under me, his arms locked around me, unmovable. Looking up at him, I saw his eyes fixed on mine as he waited for me to share what I knew.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Find the forgotten hall of slain fighters, for they are the true warriors. There you will find what you seek.”

Christian wiped his hands down his face and moaned. “What the hell does that mean? Why couldn’t he leave us with an address?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “But if I can get my computer, I could start searching for the possible meanings.”

“More research?” he grumbled, then asked, “Where is your computer?”

“Left it at your penthouse in Davenport Tower.”

Looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand, he sighed. “Thank God it’s too late to go anywhere.”

“Christian. You live in a city that never sleeps.”

Grinning, he rolled me onto my back, kissing my neck, slowly making his way down my stomach. Settling himself between my legs, he gently moved them until they were over his shoulders, then he smiled up at me and said, “True, but I can’t do this in public.”

“OH MY GOD!”

Reaching for his shirt, I quietly put it on, trying not to disturb him when I tiptoed out of the room. Gently closing the door behind me, I turned and walked downstairs. Picking up clothes and straightening his mother’s house while I went, I eventually made it to the kitchen, desperately needing some water. After searching the cupboards, I finally found a glass and filled it with plain tap water.

Standing before the sink, I looked out the window over the sink into the darkness, my mind whirling with possibilities of what the riddle meant. I was good with puzzles, always had been. I didn’t see why this one would be any different. I just wished I had my computer with me so I could begin to unravel it.

Puzzles were my kryptonite. Once engaged, I couldn’t get my mind to shut off until I solved it, and though I tried to sleep, I knew I wouldn’t be able to. So instead, I came downstairs in the hopes that Christian’s mother or father had a laptop or computer lying around somewhere.

After starting a load of laundry, I searched downstairs and low and behold, eureka!

There, sitting on a desk in his parents’ study was the world’s oldest desktop computer. Smiling, I walked over and sat, my fingers running over the long-forgotten IBM Personal Computer. The computer was definitely older than me, possibly older than Christian, too, because I couldn’t remember when the industry did away with the floppy disc drive, upgrading to CD-ROM.

“This is so cool,” I whispered, looking for the power button. Finding it, I sat back and scanned the study while I waited for the ancient machine to boot up. There were so many pictures on the wall. Everywhere I looked, there were photos of Christian’s parents, his siblings, family throughout the years. More importantly, everywhere I looked I saw joy on their faces.

I never had that growing up, and I desperately wanted that for Drew. I was determined to give him the childhood I was denied.

It sucked growing up under Mother’s watchful eye. To her, everything was a lesson or a rule I needed to learn to navigate the world she designed. Even when the Golden Skulls killed her and brought down her organization, sometimes I still felt like I was that little girl, waiting while she started another game for me to learn. The woman was relentless. All that mattered to her was that she came out on top. In her world, there was no room for failure. Failure meant death.

Maybe that was why I truly never gave up researching, always learning everything I could about the players in Mother’s Grand Game as she sometimes called it. The game never ended as she always introduced new characters, a new nemesis to throw me off my game. I learned over time that everyone was a suspect, even myself, because the rules of the game always changed.

In a way, the game emulated the intricacies of human nature. There were too many variables. There was no way to depict what a singular person would do until put in a position for them to choose. Put that individual into a group setting and the possibilities were endless.

This looming war with the Soulless Sinners and the Golden Skulls was a prime example. Two strong leaders vying for supremacy, each with their own goals in mind, connected by one common variable. Theoretically, the two men would fight until one man was left standing. But thanks to that one common variable, they’d been hesitant. Add in adversaries and innocent bystanders, and both men would easily go off script, but stepping away from what they’d been previously known to do would be hard.

This game that Mother started long before I was born, was designed with no winner in mind. Only the destruction it created along the way.

I knew that now.

Even if Montana and Reaper were able to wipe everyone associated with Mother’s Society off the map, they would still lose the game, because there would always be someone waiting in the wings to challenge them again.

Seeing the black screen blink on, I sat up and smiled while the Windows 95 screen flashed before me, and when I saw the AOL icon off to the left, I reached for the computer mouse, hovered the little arrow over it and double-clicked, which eventually brought up the computer’s internet program.

Clicking on the dial button, I watched in amazement as the little blue man moved his legs like he was running to connect to the server. The unfamiliar sound of the noticeable tone, like nails on a chalkboard screeched until I heard the computer clearly say, ‘You’ve Got Mail’ .

Clicking on the world symbol with two rings around it, I brought up the internet search button and started typing.

Lost in my task, I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when I heard the front door open and close.

Frowning, I laid my pen down and slowly got up, ignoring the new screen that popped up. Making my way out of the study, I had just entered the living room when I clearly heard someone say, “Please sit down, Ms. Mitchell.”

Walking further into the living room, someone flipped on the lamp next to the couch, illuminating the room, where I saw a finely dressed man sitting on Christian’s mother’s sofa and two men stood off to the side.

Not moving, I looked at each man tentatively when the one sitting added, “We are not here to hurt you. We’re just here to talk.”

“Famous last words from a man pointing a gun at me.”

He smirked, laying the gun on the coffee table. “There. Better?”

“No, but I’ll take it,” I said stiffly, taking a seat on the opposite couch. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Renaldo Romano, and I was hoping you would be able to help me with something.”

“What would that be?”

Leaning forward, the handsome man asked, “I would like to know why yourself and Christian Moreno were in Irish territory yesterday where two men were found murdered?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I easily lied.

Renaldo Romano leaned back on the sofa and sighed. “Do you know who I am, Ms. Mitchell?”

I nodded. “Renaldo Romano, head of the Romano Family here in New York City. A descendant of Anthony Romano, you’ve controlled the Romano family since intruders murdered your father a few years ago in a home invasion. You have two living brothers, Rico and Romeo, and a deceased sister Ava who was raped then later killed by Boris Petrovitch’s men, after she and her former friend Tia Andrews, attended a party hosted by Boris. You recently put your name up for consideration with the Italian Council for a seat at the table and were denied because of your family’s, shall I say, unsavory associations. You previously aligned yourself with the Soulless Sinners and the Russian Bratva, but that’s changed recently, hasn’t it?”

The man said nothing as he listened and watched me.

I could have told him more, had he asked, but I really wasn’t in a talking mood. I wanted him out of Christian’s mother’s house, preferably before Christian woke up.

“I must say, you are very informative. So, it’s true then?”

“What is?”

“That Christian married the daughter of Sienna Mitchell, the head of the Society .”

“Not my mother.”

“But you were raised by her, correct?”

“Unfortunately. What’s your point?”

“My point is, someone like you, with all your knowledge, is quite valuable. What is stopping me from calling O’Malley and handing you over to him? You killed two men in his territory yesterday. Christian is half Irish. His loyalty is now in question.”

Smirking, I shook my head. “You won’t do that for the same reason I won’t tell Giovanni or Maxim Fedorov you are the reason Illyria was kidnapped from the Gentlemen’s Club. Because it was you who helped Boris Petrovitch escape with her undetected. I must say, Mr. Romano, that was rather a stupid move to play both sides of the fence, just for a seat at the table.”

“That’s rather inventive, Ms. Mitchell. Good luck proving it.”

“Don’t need to,” I stated. “Because when you failed to kill Dwayne Buchanon at the docks that same night, you marked yourself. Let me ask you this, Mr. Romano. Did you ever stop to consider that Dwayne Buchanon was more than a cousin to Giovanni Valentinetti?”

“He’s nothing but a biker in the Golden Skulls.”

“Yes, that’s true. Dwayne Buchanon is a brother in the Golden Skulls and a cousin of Valentinetti, but he’s also the nephew of Brian Buchanon, the current head of the IRA. Now, I don’t know about you, Mr. Romano, but Brian Buchanon doesn’t strike me as a man who would just let his own flesh and blood die without stepping in to save him.”

Renaldo Romano leaned forward and sneered, “What are you saying, Ms. Mitchell?”

“I’m saying, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who helped Dwayne Buchanon escape the pier that night. It was his uncle.”

“Bullshit,” he clipped, reaching for his gun.

“Touch it and I will fucking kill you,” I heard Christian threaten from behind me as he walked down the stairs. I said nothing as Christian kept his gun aimed at Renaldo, stopping before the two men as he held out his hand. “Give me your fucking guns.”

Turning back to Renaldo, I smirked. “You really didn’t think this through, did you? What did you expect would happen? Did you think you could come into Mrs. Moreno’s home, threaten me, and I’d just give you what you wanted? Because if you did, then you didn’t do your due diligence. Let me tell you a little something about me, Mr. Renaldo. I may look unassuming, innocent for lack of a better word, but that is the illusion I’ve created. From the moment I was born, I’ve been trained in a great many things. Subterfuge was a specialty of mine. The second you entered this house you lost the game, Mr. Renaldo. Because had you taken the time, you would have known that I am never truly alone. I always have someone watching me. Isn’t that right, Aurelio?”

Christian blinked. “What?”

I didn’t bother replying as Renaldo and his two men stiffened when Aurelio Vitale walked in from the kitchen, eating a sandwich.

“Remind me to never play hide and seek with you, Charlotte,” the man said as he stopped next to me.

“What the hell are you doing here, Aurelio?” Christian angrily questioned.

“Sorry, Chris, but orders are orders. You know that.”

“A heads-up would have been nice. Have you been watching us the whole time?”

Aurelio smirked. “Only since Chicago. Which reminds me, don’t forget to sterilize your mother’s dining room table before she gets home.”

Christian rolled his eyes when Aurelio turned and smiled at Renaldo. “Good morning, Mr. Romano. My brother would like a word with you.”