Page 7 of The Prices We Pay (Vittori Enterprises #1)

Dante

“ A ll good, Seb. You can dispatch on the target.”

“All right. Calling in the tip now,” he answers through the coms in our ears.

“Sometimes it still amazes me that he can do this shit,” Enzo says while twisting the silencer off of his Beretta.

He’s practically giddy as we skip down the alley toward the van.

He always gets like this after a job. Not that I would call this one particularly stimulating by any means, but Enzo thrives on mayhem of any kind.

Considering his offenses, I would have assumed the target would have put up a little more of a fight .

We were literally in and out in ten minutes.

It was almost boring .

Gregory Stanton, a forty-six-year-old New York Congressman whose wife accidentally stumbled on his collection of videos of him fucking prostitutes in their home, which was rather unfortunate for him for three reasons.

First and foremost, he wasn’t just fucking them. He was physically and sexually assaulting them to the point they could barely crawl out of his home.

Two, his wife also happens to be the daughter of the director of the FBI’s Transnational Organized Crime Task Force, which literally specializes in human trafficking. You would think that would have caused him to think twice, but obviously not.

Three, neither his wife nor his father-in-law seem keen on operating within the confines of the law regarding this matter.

She found out and told dear old Dad. Dad reached out to us, paid double to complete the job in forty-eight hours, and we got to remove one more piece of human trash from the earth.

We’re rarely aware of who exactly puts out the hit, but once we studied the case, it wasn’t exactly hard to put two and two together.

Bing, bang, boom.

Lucky for us, too, Greg here excuses his security most nights at ten, which is incredibly stupid considering his position of power. But it makes sense… wouldn’t want them to see what a piece of absolute shit he is.

It’s by far one of the easiest jobs we’ve done, and in the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing more than a drop in the bucket. But I know I can speak for all four of us when I say that this is what we’re most proud of.

Not Vittori Enterprises… this .

And no one even knows it’s us. We get no fame. No recognition. No glory. Just the satisfaction of knowing that we’re ridding the world of people who truly don’t deserve another breath of air.

Some call us mercenaries. Some call us a hit squad. Some call us vigilantes. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that when people like Gregory Stanton gasp for that last breath, they know their demise was at the hands of The Horsemen .

“I love it when we don’t have to do cleanup,” Luca beams as we shuffle to our unmarked black van.

Depending on who the hit is and the severity of the crime, we either clean up and dispose of the target ourselves or, like in cases like this, we have Sebastian call in an untraceable tip.

In fifteen to twenty minutes, a dozen police cars are going to show up at this house with a body and a plethora of evidence laid out in front of them so everyone can learn just who Gregory Stanton really was.

And the police will be none the wiser. For all they know, it was just a pimp who reacted badly after Greg sent one of the girls back, beaten to a pulp.

But even if they did suspect a different kind of foul play, Sebastian ensures that none of this can ever be traced back to us or the ones who hired us.

He really is a genius.

“Cops will be there soon.” Seb’s voice sounds through the coms again. “I’ve cleared the cameras at the scene and will follow you until you get home.”

“Thanks, Seb.” I pull my earpiece out and slide it into my jacket pocket as I relax into the backseat .

“See you soon,” Luca adds from the passenger seat as Enzo, our usual driver, slowly pulls the van out of the alley.

I like to stay in the back to have my hands available for weapons in case we have a tail; plus, I’m a big guy, and there’s double the room back here.

Luca prefers to communicate with Seb since the two of them are so in sync anyway, and Enzo is a professional at driving like a bat out of hell when the situation calls for it.

Like I said… he thrives on mayhem.

Passing a hundred other vans that look just like ours, Enzo makes his way through the city in no time and parks the van in the lowest level of Vittori Enterprises, where we all parked the cars we drove in this morning.

Just as I’m about to get in my truck, Luca in his Chevelle, and Enzo in his G-Wagon, Enzo stops. “Shit. I have to go upstairs. I left my keys on my desk.”

Sighing heavily, I close the door of my truck. “All right, let’s go.”

His smile beams. “I can handle myself, Big Guy.”

“I know you can, but I’m coming anyway. ”

I need to be sure he’s okay.

“I might as well come up too. I’ve had to fucking piss since we left Stanton’s.”

The minute the elevator reaches the top floor, we’re assaulted with the sound of Ian Munsick and Cody Johnson’s “Long Live Cowgirls.”

Enzo turns his nose up in disgust while Luca and I ready our hands at the guns on our hips.

Nobody should be here.

“This sounds like the shit you listen to, D.”

“It’s country music, and it’s not shit.”

Stealthily, Luca and I move a few feet forward before Enzo starts to whisper-shout behind us, “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t think anyone who listens to a song about cowgirls in wagons is dangerous. Grow some balls.”

Impatiently, he practically stampedes down the hallway, only stopping when he gets to the office of our new raven-haired customs broker.

Judging by the stupid smile on his face, it’s fair to assume there’s no threat.

The two of us flank Enzo on either side, and the moment I take in the scene before us, my entire body feels like it completely relaxes for the first time in years.

Joe sits cross-legged on the floor of her office, wearing black sweatpants and a gray hoodie, while the clothes she was wearing earlier today are in a neatly folded pile on the sofa. Her dark hair is up in a messy bun, and thick tortoiseshell glasses frame her face.

She looks… stunning.

Her laptop sits on the floor in front of her, accompanied by her phone and a Bluetooth speaker.

Piles of paperwork and folders are strewn across the rug around her.

She sings along to the song as she stares intently at whatever is on her screen, not even noticing that three large men dressed in tactical gear are standing in her doorway.

We shouldn’t let her see us like this, but none of us can seem to get ourselves to move.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Enzo pull his phone out of his pocket and take a picture of the woman before us. The love-struck look on his face is as clear as day .

“What are you doing?” Luca bites out in a whisper.

“Making her my wallpaper, obviously. I told you, I’m a man in love.”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“I don’t even care. Look at her, Amico.”

Luca inhales a deep breath. “Oh, I am.”

My eyes dart between their matching expressions of absolute adoration. And I know damn well that if I had a mirror, I would see the same thing looking back at me.

Well, this should be interesting.

“Come on, we should go,” Luca whispers.

Enzo slowly holds his hand up. “Not yet. Just one more sec—”

Luca’s phone chimes in his pocket, likely Sebastian wondering what’s taking us so long. “Shit,” he bites out, grabbing at the cargo pocket in his pants.

In the span of half a second, Joe looks over at us and screams at the top of her lungs.

“Sweetheart, it’s just us,” Enzo says, consoling her in the smoothest voice he can manage .

After a moment, Joe’s screaming ceases, yet she remains on the floor, hands clutched to her chest, breathing heavily as she looks up at the three of us. “What in the fuck is wrong with the three of you?!”

Enzo squats down in front of her. “We’re sorry. We didn’t realize you’d be here. We just had to come up to grab a couple of things.”

Her forehead pinches as she takes a closer look at our appearance. “What in the hell are the three of you wearing? Who are you, fucking G.I. Joe?”

I snort out a laugh under my breath as Enzo answers, “We were just, uh… we were—”

“Paintballing,” Luca interjects.

“Right. Paintballing.”

Joe’s eyes flash to the holster on Enzo’s hip so fast that a normal person probably wouldn’t have noticed.

She doesn’t react to the fact that he’s carrying a weapon and instead meets his stare once more.

She raises her eyebrows and gives us all a look that lets us know she sees right through our bullshit. “You were paintballing?”

Enzo nods. “Yup. Forgot my car keys. Had to come up and get them before we went home. ”

“The CEO, COO, and head of security of a multibillion-dollar company went paintballing… in New York City… at eleven o’clock at night… on a Wednesday?”

“Suuuuure did.”

She looks up at me. But if she’s trying to get someone to crack, she should keep her stare on the idiot smiling like a damn clown in front of her.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow and stare back at her.

Knowing I’m not going to budge, she turns her focus to Enzo, staring at him inquisitively.

Smart choice.

“Where’s the paint?”

“What paint?” Enzo asks.

“Your clothes are spotless. If you went paintballing, where’s the paint?”

“Oh, we’re just really good. You should see the other guys,” Enzo says dismissively.

“Then—”

“Leave it alone, Josephine,” Luca bites out.

Slowly, Joe moves her eyes from Enzo to Luca, and the two of them stay like that for a moment. Their stares fill the room with so much heat that it feels like the temperature has risen ten degrees.

Realizing it’s not her place, Joe relents and raises her hands. “Consider it dropped.”

Enzo stands and reaches his hand out for her to grab. She looks at it reluctantly for a moment before grabbing it and standing as well. “What are you even doing here so late anyway?” he asks.

“Just wanted to get all of my ducks in a row before I get my new computer tomorrow. Clara said that as long as I didn’t leave and try to come back, I wouldn’t set off any alarms.” She looks down at her outfit before adding, “I learned a long time ago to keep some comfy clothes on hand.”

Enzo and I smile, though mine isn’t quite as dopey as his, yet Luca remains stoic.

“And the music?” She tilts her head at Enzo’s question. “It’s just not something I would have pictured you listening to,” he clarifies.

“You can take the girl out of Montana…” she answers. “Tell anyone I listen to country music, though, and I might have to kill you.” She jokingly points at the three of us .

Hmmm… I’d like to see you try, Mama.

“Did you eat dinner?” I ask her.

Her face softens as her pale blue eyes shine in my direction. “I did. Ordered takeout from down the street before the building locked up for the night.”

“Brava ragazza,” Luca mumbles next to me, soft enough that I’m the only one who heard him.

His phone chimes again. This time, he pulls it out of his pocket. “Seb?” I ask.

“Yeah. We should probably get home.”

“The four of you live together?” Out of everything that’s been said in the last five minutes, this is the thing that surprises her.

“Sure do, Sweetheart. Should come over sometime.” Enzo hits her with a devious wink.

“Enz,” Luca groans, rubbing his hand down his face in exasperation.

“What? I meant for dinner, obviously.”

Joe lets out a laugh that could soothe all the cracks in my shattered soul. “Come on, Enz. Let Josephine get back to work.” His eyes soften for a moment. “Don’t stay too much longer, okay? Go home and get some rest. ”

“I’ll be done soon. I promise.”

Enzo plants a quick kiss on her cheek. “See you tomorrow, Sweetheart.”

Joe simply smiles and rolls her eyes at his antics.

As the two of them walk out of her office, I linger in the doorway for a moment. “Next time you want to stay late, let me know. I don’t want you here by yourself.”

She waves me off dismissively. “I’m a big girl, Dante. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can. But you shouldn’t have to.” Emotion quickly wells in her eyes over my words. “Just let me know.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

“Goodnight, Joe.”

“Goodnight, Dante.”

And for the second time today, I find myself walking away from Josephine Jenkins, plagued by the insatiable desire to make sure she’s okay.