Sam, aka Leo, aka Saint
“She’s still sleeping,” I say to Nick, mobile pressed to my ear, gaze latched on Willow’s perfect ass as she goes about pouring us coffee.
After a few hours’ sleep, I woke with a raging hard-on, all because of the nimble beauty prancing around the kitchen. Thankfully, she was more than receptive to my advances.
“I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
“Did you hear from Dante? Did he learn anything from the videos?”
“He’s not answering my calls.”
“Hmmm.” I threatened him… “That doesn’t sit right. Have you traced him?"
Willow’s wide blue eyes meet mine. Her hair is darker, soaked wet from our morning shower. The color sets off those eyes like gemstones.
“Figured he was sleeping something off.”
“When I saw him last, he was stone-cold sober. And I threatened his life if he didn’t get the tapes from the club. He swears someone drugged her.”
“He’s fucking her,” Nick practically growls. “Defending her coked-up arse, and I’m supposed to believe a horny random did this? Much more likely, she got her hands on a bad batch of the drug du jour.”
I get why he’s suspecting the worst in Lina. She’s been through rehab twice—that I know of. But he’s off on Dante.
“Someone followed me from the club last night.”
“Probably paps. They’ve been bloodthirsty pricks ever since they figured out I’d bury any shit on Lina.”
Guaranteed payday. One call to Nick with a photo, and they get a lump sum payment. I couldn’t see shit behind those headlights. Maybe Nick’s on to something.
“I’m going to ask Ash to locate Dante’s car and phone.”
“Whatever gets your rocks off. I’ll be there in less than three hours to relieve you of Lina. The doc will beat me there. Let him in and force Lina to let him test her. Drug her if you have to.”
A dial tone sounds loudly in my ear, and I end the call. I shoot off a text, then push out a stool and pat it for Willow to sit next to me.
“What you hear, in this flat, you can’t share. Not with anyone. You got me?”
She nods, and I squeeze her thigh. Those lips are so tempting.
“Quiche will be ready in about twenty minutes,” she says.
“Scarlet. The one you called last night. What did you tell her?”
“No details.” Those sapphire eyes flash innocence. “She was married to a guy who did a lot of fighting. I told her you’d gone out with a gun, and I asked for her suggestions on how to prepare.”
“She’s your bestie?” I remember the redhead from our wedding. She didn’t seem too enamored with me.
“She’s my cousin. Before and after her marriage, she lived with us. Yes, to answer your question. She’s my best friend.” She smiles over the lip of the mug and then sips what looks like tea.
“Well, I’ve got a few more rules for you. If you call her, use a burner phone. Destroy it after you talk to her. You never know who’s listening or who might try to get a trace. I have a box of burners in my office. That’s all you use from here on out to call her, and if you’re going to be talking to her for more than a couple of minutes, call her from the studio. Just in case someone is tracing from her end. You hear me?”
She nods slowly, absorbing my words. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but my instincts tell me something is not fucking right.
“And if someone is coming up in that elevator, and you don’t know it’s me, or if you’re ever scared, you push that button that collapses the stairs. Got it?”
Another slow nod.
“After breakfast—well, no, after Lina’s out of the flat—I’ll show you the panic room.”
“You don’t trust Lina?”
I don’t trust anyone. “I travel frequently for work. If I’m not home, you need a game plan. After Lina’s gone, we’ll map it out.”
“Is there a war going on?”
Her word choice is telling. Her father may not have taken an active role in the criminal underworld, but as a part of the broader family, she’s at ease with the vernacular.
Always is the answer. But what I say is, “Some things that happened last night don’t add up. It’s just a precaution. Best to be safe. What about other friends?” She’s a likeable person. Two weeks in London, and she had an oaf following her around. “University? Anyone you talk to regularly?”
She blanches. “Acquaintances, mostly.”
There’s a story there. “What’s that face for?”
“I didn’t have a lot of friends at university.”
“I call bullshit on that. A sweet girl like you?”
“A student got wind that I was a member of the Lupi Grigi. Rumors have always swirled around my father, even though he’s a business leader. The security guy lurking in the background everywhere I went didn’t help.”
“Were students mean to you?”
“No, not mean. But…distant. No one wants to invite the mafia into their lives. And if they want to, you have to question why.” She shrugs. “It was for the best. I grew close to some people… Jules, for example. His friends. The rumors. The tension. It highlighted how selfish I was being. Putting Jules at risk. Possibly his friends.” Accusation crosses her narrowed eyes. “You know what interrogations can be like. It was better no one knew me well.”
I understand what she’s saying. At far too young an age she had to worry about the safety of anyone coming around her. In that way, she’s like my sisters. Forced to confront mortality and grow up too young. I want to caress her cheek, to tell her none of that was fair, that she deserves so much more, but I hold on to my coffee mug. “What about within your…” I stumble on the word family, because I need a more expansive word. “Network?”
“I don’t… I never clicked with those women. Maybe if I’d gotten married…but…” She shrugs dismissively and pushes off the stool. “Scarlet and Orlando are my two closest friends. You can trust me. I won’t share your secrets with anyone. Not even them.”
My phone buzzes with an alert that the garage code has been entered. It’s Nick. He’s the only one in possession of my code. The building gives each tenant a unique code. I confirm it’s Nick by checking the security cam.
When I step out of my office, I do a double-take at Lina and Willow sitting around the kitchen table. Willow lent Lina clothes. With their hair up in ponytails, nostalgia stabs me. My sisters would often sit just like that, a mug of something, most likely hot chocolate, clasped between their hands while they jabbered about girl stuff.
The doctor came and went, saying he’d send the lab results directly to Nick. I can’t imagine Nick’s heard anything yet.
I stand over the banister, awaiting Nick’s arrival. A moody fog hangs over the city. Traffic alerts reported serious delays on South End Road due to police activity. Up here in the clouds, peace and quiet reign.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Lina asks.
“He has arrived,” I answer.
“I suppose I should change,” she says, pushing out from the table.
“Oh, no. You can take those clothes. It’s fine. And I have some shoes for you, too.” Both women sport thick wool socks.
“Is he in a rush? Or will he stay for a while?” Lina asks, standing over the sink with a mug.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” He’ll be tired after a long day of travel, and given he’ll drive the nearly two hours to his estate, he’ll likely want to get on the road. But he may wish to debrief in the security of my flat before moving on.
Lina tilts her head thoughtfully, then pours more tea from the kettle.
The elevator door slides open, and Nick steps out in a perfect crisp suit and shiny, pointed leather dress shoes. The extensive growth along his jaw means he’s either growing a beard or he hasn’t shaved in days.
“Did you attend church services?”
He snorts derisively. “This is what I was wearing last night.”
As he climbs the stairs, I discern the wrinkles in his shirt and darker circles beneath his eyes. His attention shifts from me to his sister as he climbs the stairs. She holds up her mug in salute, and he shakes his head.
“What?” Lina calls out defensively. “I did nothing wrong.”
He ignores her and steps past me with a curt, “Your office.”
I follow him but glance back at the women. Willow watches over the rim of her mug, and I swear her concern washes over me like a brisk stream. Refreshing and disconcerting.
Nick sinks onto the sofa, and I close the door. Nick keeps Lina in the dark on his business practices, and I sure as fuck don’t want Willow learning anything that could endanger her.
“Did your meetings go okay?” I ask.
“We found Dante. Dead.”
Whoa. Not the expected response. “How?”
“Knife wounds. Scotland Yard has the case.”
“Where?”
“A back alley near the club.”
“I asked him to get the security footage from that night. Has to be related.”
Shit. I threatened him with his life if he didn’t get answers.
Nick’s head hits the back of the sofa. “I’ve got a man who will give us everything they learn.”
The syndicate owns quite a few, so I trust he’s right.
“Doctor said Lina was drugged. Alcohol level nonexistent and no cocaine.”
“Someone targeted her. It’s the only answer, given I was followed.”
“Or someone targeted you.” He rubs a hand over his face as if he’s attempting to wake himself up.
“You think they drugged Lina, expecting me to show up?”
“It’s possible. Think about it. I’m out of town. You’re my best mate. Who else am I going to call?”
“You employ a security squad. That’d be something else to assume I’d be the one you would call.” It’s hard to imagine anyone knowing Nick that well.
“Leandro Massimo is currently MIA.”
“He doesn’t have the intel or the intelligence to concoct that kind of plan.”
Nick moves his jaw around, stretching it, then stretches each of his hands. I can’t tell if he agrees with me. Hell, what do I know about Leandro’s skills?
“How’s she doing?” Nick gestures with his head in the general direction of the living area.
“She’s been fine. Didn’t fight me on staying until you arrived.” I mentally prepared for a brawl, but she’s been a polite guest and cool with Willow.
“Not Lina. I just shared her medical report with you. The wife. How’s she?”
“Good.”
I don’t appreciate his knowing smirk. But before I can derive a response, he pushes up off the sofa and exits the office.
“Let’s go, little sister. I’m tired.”
“You can stay at my flat for the night if you like,” she offers.
“We’re not staying there.”
“Don’t tell me you want to go back to Cumbria.”
“Up.” He snaps his fingers. “Let’s go.”
“But I promised I’d take Willow to lunch tomorrow. And we’re going shopping. There’s a sale at Harrod’s.”
Lina is not a friend I would choose for Willow. Or anyone I cared about. But that’s something I’ll deal with later.
“Dante was found stabbed to death outside the club,” Nick announces.
“Who would do that?” Lina’s expression is suitably horrified.
“No idea, but we’re not staying in London.”
Lina stiffens, lowers her gaze, and stands. She bends over Willow where she’s seated and wraps her in a hug. She says something to her I can’t hear, then straightens and joins Nick.
“I like your wife. Good job on that one,” Lina says to me.
“Lina-approved. Cleared to spawn,” Nick says.
Lina and I simultaneously flick Nick the middle finger, and he chuckles.
Willow exits the hallway and offers a pair of wellies to Lina. “These should fit, I think.”
After Lina takes the boots, I pull Willow into my side, earning an annoying-as-fuck smirk from Nick.
We remain by the banister, watching as Lina and Nick descend the stairs. “Your security waiting in the car?”
“You going to escort us if they’re not?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be daft. Yes, security is with the car. And you beef up yourself, toodles. For you and the missus.”