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TWENTY-NINE

DAMIEN LIBELLULA

ROYCE

M y heart lodges in my throat. Holding her in place on my knee, I free one hand, placing it under her nose. She’s still breathing. A thumb lifting up her eye lid reveals the whites. Her eyes have rolled back in her head.

She’s out. From panic, exhaustion, relief… I don’t know what it is, but she knows she’s safe with me. She waited until she was safe in my arms to let herself go.

I don’t know what Alfieri managed to do to her. The mess he made of her face is enough, and only now that he’s dead do I acknowledge that the zipper on his jeans was down. Button was done up, sure, and there could be a bunch of reasons why his zipper wasn’t… but the worst of them have me squeezing Nicolette tight before I rise up to my feet.

Right now, it doesn’t matter. In time, I’ll get her to tell me what went down after she left the Suites. And if I don’t, that’s okay, too, so long as she understands that I won’t let that happen ever again.

It’s a bitch, carrying her bridal style the same time as I have my gun out. Worse when I get all the way to the top of the stairs and realize the door’s locked. I give myself a moment to curse under my breath before figuring out my next move.

I could call Link. Assuming he hasn’t tracked me here, I’ve got my phone in my pocket. I could call the boss, but I’d rather get the fuck of Dragonfly territory before I loop him in.

I make an executive decision. Still holding onto Nic, I go back into the gloomy basement. She doesn’t stir with all the jostling of her that I’m doing, and I’m glad. I don’t want her to watch as I rifle through a dead man’s pockets.

There isn’t anything that Alfieri has that I want. I leave his weapon on the floor, don’t bother with his cash or his wallet, and only take the single key ring that I hoped he’d have. Figuring that he had to be able to come and go to leave Nic down there, it made sense this would be the key on the inner lock.

It is. Since there’s no way in hell I’ll ever willingly come back here, I toss the key after I unlock it. Here’s hoping no one else in the Libellula Family has a key to the basement because, if you ask me, it would be poetic justice if Alfieri was left to rot beneath a front for his mob. I doubt it, not with all those pallets down there, but a man can dream, yeah?

My gun makes it hard to shove open the door without moving Nic too much, but I refuse to walk out of this place empty-handed. I don’t know who might have seen me walk in here—or if any of the Dragonflies know that Kieran Alfieri had earlier—and the last thing I want to do is walk out and face one of our rivals.

It’s the last thing I want to do… and, yet, that’s exactly what happens.

Looking as though he decided to take a stroll in the wintry dark, there stands Damien Libellula, wearing one hell of an expensive jacket over his immaculate suit. The collar is up, hugging his sharp jaw. His hair is parted perfectly on the left, combed precisely so that every dark strand is in place.

He has a shark’s smile and a pair of shrewd eyes, though his voice is pleasant as he calls out a greeting to me before he nods at my drawn weapon.

“You gonna put that away, Royce?” He shows me his hands. His empty hands. “I think we can hash this out without any guns. Don’t you?”

I could shoot him. I could shoot the head of the Libellula Family dead where he stands and I’m pretty sure no one could stop me. Sure, he probably has bodyguards just out of sight who’d turn me and Nicolette into Bonnie and Clyde at their end, but I could .

I don’t.

It takes a moment for me to maneuver the woman in my arms so that I could also slip my Beretta back into its holster. Not because I want to talk to him at all, but because I can’t risk Nic getting caught in any crossfire.

However, before I can tell Damien that, his smile widens.

“There. It’s just you and me?—”

Is it? As though me putting my gun away was a signal, someone moves their head around the corner of the building. I only see two cars—mine, and a flashy one that no doubt belongs to Damien—so I doubt it’s someone who is actually is trying to wash their clothes.

“Really?” I ask wryly. “No back-up?”

“I was already coming to see what one of my top enforcers was doing at another one of our operations after asking for a week’s leave. Personal business, he said, until my cameras caught him with a woman over his shoulder as he carried her into the cellar. Imagine my surprise when one of my guys said he saw one of Lincoln’s arriving ten minutes ago. I’d hope to catch you on your way out. I don’t think there’s any need for back-up, though, do you?”

That’s the thing about Damien Libellula that always rubbed me wrong. Even when was running guns alongside me and Link, he had this attitude that he was better than most crooks. Not only that, but he’s so damn rational.

Of course, if you cross him, you’re dead. If you insult him, you’re dead. If you so much as look at his baby sister wrong, you’re gutted with his trademark stiletto knife—and then you’re dead.

He hides his brutal side behind a gentile veneer that I’d buy if it wasn’t for the fact that I was on the streets the same time as he was. He might be a decade older than me, his salt-and-pepper hair making him seem older than his forty years, but I know the real Damien.

He prides himself on his honesty. If he says he didn’t bring back-up, he didn’t bring back-up.

But someone is still watching us from a distance. If it wasn’t for the way the lamplight falls on them, I’d think it might be a coincidence—until I notice the way they’re watching Damien specifically.

I look closer. It’s a woman. A pretty woman, maybe late twenties or so. She doesn’t seem curious, or in awe that the head of the Libellula Family is out for a stroll.

Oh, no. She looks furious .

“You sure,” I ask, a tiny jerk of my chin in her direction as I gather up everything we need for breakfast. “Looks like we’re not alone.”

He doesn’t even turn around. “If it’s a gorgeous brunette staring daggers into my back, don’t you worry about that. She’s not here for you. She’s gunning for me.” A low chuckle, as though he said something funny. “Probably because she’s pissed off I took her gun.”

I blink. “What?”

Damien waves his hand. “It’s personal. Like I said, don’t worry about it. I’m here because I want to know what went on in my cellar.”

He does, does he?

I don’t want to disturb Nicolette, and I only hope she’s so out of it right now that she doesn’t realize I’m taking her chin gingerly between my fingers before I turn her so that Damien can see what Alfieri did to her.

“This,” I bite out. “This is what happened.”

Damien sucks in a breath. “I was afraid of that. I’m sorry, Royce. Listen, I have a doctor on call. If you’d like, I can have her come down and tend to Ms. Williams.”

My fury was already building up. That just adds fuel to the fire. “McIntyre.”

“Pardon?”

“Her name is McIntyre.”

Or it will be. First fucking chance I get, I’m making this woman mine legally. Even Link knew that a wedding license and a ring was enough to make his lover think twice about trying to get away. He even had a second wedding, showing her off in front of half of Springfield down at St. Pat’s. She’ll be my wife, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure one can ever hurt her again.

Damien hesitates. I see his eyes slide to the side, and I realize that he’s checking to see if that woman is still watching us. I follow the direction of his gaze only to see that she’s gone.

He sighs. “I know what you must think of my Family,” he begins, frowning when I scoff. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Our women only get involved with the business when they choose to. Otherwise, they’re protected?—”

“And called ‘property’.”

“We need to know who is being protected,” he responds with a tight smile. “If you’re not a Dragonfly, then you need to belong to one. But, I assure you, it’s consensual. Or it’s supposed to be.” He purses his lips. “I assume I’m down one enforcer.”

I tilt my head toward him. “You assume right.”

“I told him to leave the Williams girl alone. That she traded her loyalties from our Family to Link’s syndicate. That’s not a crime, is it? But he didn’t listen.” Damien tsks . “If you hadn’t handled him, I would have. He should be glad about that.”

Considering the rumors I heard about what Damien does to Dragonflies who betray him or disobey, I’m sure he’s right.

“I thought I made myself clear years ago. Even when we didn’t have our truce, civilians should never get mixed up with the syndicates.”

Heather. He’s talking about Heather. “Being on the wrong side of town shouldn’t be a death sentence, Damien.”

The mafia leader doesn’t disagree, and even goes one step further by admitting: “What happened to Heather Valiant was and will always be a mistake. A tragic mistake, but one that I readily corrected. I would have done the same thing tonight if I had to. I want you to understand that.”

I do. It’s for the same reason why the prick who shot Heather was dead within twenty-four hours while I just had to carry the guilt with me that I couldn’t stop her from getting mixed up with the syndicates.

I nod. “I’m glad you see it that way.” And that he doesn’t seem pissed that I offed Alfieri. “Now, if you’ll just move over, I’m getting Nic?—”

Before I can finish my demand, another car turns the corner. For a second, I think Damien was stalling, that he was waiting for more of his mafia to show up, but then I recognize Luca set behind the wheel of the luxury town car as it stops by us.

The door to the backseat flings open. Bursting at the seams of his suit from his obvious temper, Link comes stalking toward us.

Damien smiles at him. “Ah… Lincoln. So nice of you to join us at last.”

“Fuck you, Damien. I was already on my way before you called me and told me my underboss might need a hand.”

So he didn’t bring any back-up… but he arranged for me to have some?

Fucking hell. Just when I think I have Damien Libellula figured out, he does something like this.

“Link—”

My old friend takes in the unconscious woman in my arms. He points. “You found her. Great. But what the fuck happened tonight?”

I can answer that.

“One of his enforcers took Nicolette. He hurt my wife.” I swallow and purposely meet Link’s dark gaze. “I killed the fucker.”

I don’t have to tell either of these leaders who was responsible for it. Damien had his cameras that showed Kieran carrying an obviously drugged Nicolette into the basement—that had to be the case, and depending on what he gave her, that might also explain why she passed out again—and Link knows because I talked to him about Nic’s ex before.

Damien doesn’t say anything now. Link, however, looks confused for a moment.

He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did I miss something? Wife?”

I nod. “We haven’t had the wedding yet, but she’s my wife.”

Link’s dark eyes light up. “Ah. Gotcha.”

I don’t have to explain—and I wouldn’t have the chance to if I wanted to give it a try. Slipping away from where the rest of us were gathered, Damien crosses the small parking lot. A high- pitched beep as he disengages his car’s alarm catches both mine and Link’s attention.

“In honor of our truce, I hope to be invited to your wedding,” is the last thing Damien says before he slides into the flashy red car parked next to my boring black one and closes the door, leaving me and Link alone behind his counterfeiting operation.

I take that as our cue to get the hell out of the East End. Despite what Damien said about understanding why I had to eliminate his enforcer, I’m sure he’ll have his own clean-up crew coming to take care of his soldier’s body.

As for his request… I don’t say anything to that since he wouldn’t be able to hear me anyway, but I make a mental note. If Nicolette is okay with me inviting the head of the Libellula Family to our wedding in the future, sure, I’ll send him a save the date.

I just got to get there first—and that includes taking Nicolette back to the West Side where I can get her checked over.

We wait for Damien to leave. Once his car disappears from our sight, Link turns to me.

“Luca’s gonna drive you. I know you won’t want to put her down until you’re somewhere you trust, so let’s do that. Give me your keys, okay? I’ll bring your car back to the Suites.”

“Link, I don’t know what to say?—”

He claps me on the shoulder. “You’re my second, Royce. You’ve stood by my side even before we were Sinners. It’s about time I return the favor. I got this. You take care of your girl.”

I nod, ignoring the lump in my throat. Link… he gets it—and he proves that he gets me, too, when he says, “Listen. My second biggest regret is not putting a bullet in Joey Maglione’s skull before Ava was forced to. You did what you had to. Don’t think about the bastard you blew away. Just focus on your wife, okay?”

I don’t ask what Link’s first biggest regret is. It’s obvious. If he could turn back time, he’d never have walked away from Ava in the first place. He had fifteen years to regret willingly giving her up because he was convinced he wasn’t good enough for her.

I know I’m not good enough for Nic. I come with baggage—but, then again, so does she. And if there’s one thing I take out of Link’s words, it’s this: I won’t let it haunt me. Not like Heather. He’s right. I did what I had to do, and if my wife—my soon-to-be wife—struggles with watching her past die in front of her, I’ll deal with that, too.

That’s what I do.

I deal with the Devil. I clean up the Sinners’ messes.

I love Nicolette Williams— McIntyre .

And I will do anything to protect her.

‘Til death do us part.