Page 56

Amelia---All Rhodes Lead Here

My lips are painted a blood-red, like my blade will be after this meeting.

I give my reflection one final look over before heading to the living room, grabbing my purse and slipping a blade inside. I have two hidden on my body, but the third is for good measure. Rhodes looks up from his coffee, undressing me with his eyes.

“Is it time already?” I give him a smile and nod. I spy the crossword half completed in front of him, the pen marks messy. Rhodes stands, opening his arms. I step into his embrace, inhaling deeply. I want to carry his scent with me forever. His hug is tighter this morning, and I know it is because I’m asking him to stay here.

“I’m going to swing by The Morning Medusa, and see Parker on the way. I want to make sure she’s okay.” I feel his head, nodding against me. I hear him smell my hair, and I know Rhodes is soaking up every morsel of me he can.

Gods, I need this to go the way I want it to. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I am.

I pull away from him, tilting my head up. Rhodes dips his face to mine, the loose hair not contained in his top knot forming a curtain around us as he kisses me hard. My heart cries out, realizing that Rhodes is pouring everything he cannot bring himself to say into this kiss.

I love you.

I need you.

Come back home.

I will not lose you.

I push back into his kiss, answering with equal ferocity.

I love you.

I need you.

I will.

You won’t.

I break the kiss first, stepping out from his hold, our gazes each full of unspoken feelings and fears. I swallow them down, straightening my spine.

“I will see you for dinner, okay?” I barely contain the tremor wanting to slip into my voice. “Let’s do pizza. No pineapple though.”

Rhodes is quiet, his gaze knowing. He always knows.

“Sure thing, kochanie . Don’t be late, you hear?” He gives me a small grin that falters when I start to turn for the front door. “I love you, Amelia Conte.”

“I love you, Rhodes Alexander.”

I make it to my car before the tears fall. Slipping into the driver seat, I back out of my driveway, catching a glimpse of him staring out the window, watching me pull away. Fuck. I drive slowly to The Morning Medusa, pulling into a spot right in front of the building. I take a slow breath before walking in. My best friend immediately spots me and she stumbles. I make my way to the counter, willing my voice to not give out.

“Can I get my usual?” Parker can’t meet my eyes, and it's because she’s trying to do the same thing I am. Her focus is on the espresso machine in front of her.

“To-go?” she asks, her hands shaking.

“Yep.” Keep it together Amelia.

“Sure thing. This one is on the house.”

“Parks.”

She shakes her head, bottom lip pulled into her mouth. “Don’t. I’m barely keeping it together, Ames.” Her head drops, and suddenly, the towel from her hand is flung onto the counter. I watch as Parker scurries around the barrier before launching her body at mine. Her grip is crushing and I know mine is just as hard on her frame.

“Don’t,” she whispers brokenly. “We aren’t doing this, you hear me? I will see you tomorrow morning, in your corner.”

All I can do is nod into her shoulder. Parker holds me together once more, just like she did the night I took over the Outfit.

She pulls back, resting her hands on my shoulders and sniffling. I reach up, wiping the tears from her face. She bores her stare into my eyes, those emerald eyes serious. “Now, go remind that arsehole just who the fuck you are.”

I hear my coffee order called out, and Parkers gives my shoulders one final squeeze, sliding her body back behind the counter. She nods as I grab my coffee and walk out the door.

I blast the radio while I make the forty-five minute drive, wiping the tears from my face. Thank gods I didn’t put any eyeliner or mascara on this morning. I don’t bother trying to stop them because I know there is a slim chance that I don’t walk out of this meeting. I reach the exit, and as I drive down the road, I feel myself slip into who I need to be.

The mask falls into place, the facade coating my body like a loving embrace. There are no longer demons in the shadows with me. The darkness is solely mine. The queen is home and the devil has called his demons back to him.

I pull up to Seamus’ warehouse, noting that Duncan is already here, and I spot Medina’s Lamborghini Aventador. Fantastic. I snag my purse, open my door, and nod at my Underboss before stepping to the entrance of the building. Taking two breaths in, I smooth my hands down my body, double checking my knives are still in place. I had decided to wear my leather jacket, and now, I’m grateful. I could stash one in the pocket and tuck the second, a well balanced throwing knife, in a garter under my dress. My spare is hidden into the clutch I’m holding. It’s a cheeky one, crafted to resemble a tube of lipstick.

I don’t bother knocking.

The door gives way as I enter the open space. Alonzo Medina is standing there, arms crossed, and his stance at ease. He’s tall, with dark features, and those green eyes track every step I take across the room. His dark suit is stretched across his body, the jacket unbuttoned.

His face is smug as he begins a predictable ramble. “What, no knock? Did you not learn manners when you were young?” I cock my head, keeping my hands firmly in my jacket. “Maybe I should beat them into you, hmm bambina? ”

I shift my weight, already tired of this discussion. “You wanted me here. Here I fucking am.”

“Yes, I see this. Getting you to come out from your hiding spot was quite the undertaking, wasn’t it?”

“What do you want? What the fuck will it take for you to back the fuck off?” A feline, predatory grin preys on his lips and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. I slip one hand into my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the handle of my knife. I have to be prepared for the inevitable.

“I want you.”

I scoff at his audacity. “You can’t have me.”

“Oh, little girl. I can have whatever, and whoever, I want,” Medina tsks. “Surely you’ve noticed my proclivity for handling delicate women in need of a firm hand.” He takes one step toward me. “Having you as my prize would be quite the accomplishment.” There is a glint of something unexpected in his eyes—a flutter of pain, perhaps. Before I can recognize the emotion, it is gone. “A Mafia princess, the only heir to her family’s Outfit. You’re already well versed in the expectations, but they’ve been forgotten.”

He lifts one hand, pointing at me. “You, Amelia Conte, need to be reminded of your place, or I will bury you beside your father.”

It takes everything in me not to strike. Medina’s entire Outfit is based on the skin trade, the movement of human beings. Of course I know how he operates. “You gain nothing.”

“I’d gain your territory. I will expand my business dealings into your streets, desecrating all you’ve built, and all you’ll be able to do is watch it burn as I fuck you. There will be nothing left of you.” He pauses, placing his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “I will tame you even if I have to kill you to do so.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to give him what he wants. “It won’t work. My men won’t follow a weak excuse of a man.” I step toward him, my soles clacking against the concrete. I’ll play to his weakness. The hare will fall into this fox’s snare.

“They already have.” I handled the traitors, you asshole.

“If you were stronger, you wouldn’t have needed that man behind me, stalking my movements in the corner. You would have come alone.” Medina’s eyes dart behind me, confirming my suspicions. I thought I had heard the shuffle of feet behind me. “Tell me, stronzo, what was the point of demanding a meeting alone if you were going to negate it? You are a weak ass man who couldn’t handle a woman.”

I watch as Medina’s face fills with rage, the pulse point beneath his jaw fluttering. Excellent.

“You bitch. I will destroy you.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “My body has already been broken, remember. Do your fucking worst.” I take another step toward him as Medina’s man in the corner follows my movement. “I godsdamn dare you, Alonzo Medina.”

His eyes are furious. I regulate my breathing, trying to tamper my own rage with the situation that has consumed my life. Medina takes a small step toward me, and I could slice his throat easily at this distance. It is the slightest of nods he gives his man. I almost miss it. My breath hitches as I act on instinct.

“I am not some delicate flower for you to pluck. I am fucking oleander.”

Turning my body away from Medina slightly, I fling the knife from my pocket across the room, the blade hitting the shadowed man in the neck. He stumbles, hands flying to remove my blade from his throat, the blood soaking his suit as he pulls it free. For the briefest of moments, I have turned my back to Medina.

As I hear the hammer being pulled back, I feel the kiss of cool metal, of a .22 now pressed against my temple.