Chapter 40
40
Lorenzo
Steel screeches against stone.
The knife doesn’t need sharpening, but it always relaxes me to do it. Something about the sound scrapes my brain and halts all my thoughts.
I love it.
Rafe stands across the table, arms folded, watching the blade. Vin’s to my left, flipping through a folder thick enough to qualify as a novel.
“Again, from the top.” I drag the knife along the whetstone.
Vin taps the photo clipped to the front page. “We still can’t get a location on the nephew. Connor Gallagher stays hidden behind other idiots.” He flips the page with a crisp snap. “But we have a friend p>
“Everyone does.” I test the edge with my thumb. Sharp. Already was. “Who’s his p>
“Patrick Murphy.” Vin slides the photo to the center of the table. “Mid-level out of Southie. Bookies. Small-time loan sharking. He’s been taking bigger risks for the past six months. Lines up with when the money went missing on our end p>
Rafe leans forward, squinting at the picture. “He looks like a douche p>
Vin doesn’t even blink. “Murphy’s our bridge. He’s handling local recruitment for Connor’s expansion. He’s the one funneling the skimming. Launders through three bars and an import business p>
I pick up the photo and study Murphy’s face. Average. Forgettable.
“What about routes?” I ask. “How are they moving what they stole from us p>
Vin flips to a rough map, finger stabbing inked lines. “Two corridors. One: Providence, reroute near the docks. Two: private trucks, fed into legitimate shipments that end up through Boston Harbor p>
“Any overlap with our people?” I ask.
“Not direct,” Vin answers, jaw tightening. “They’re avoiding our main lines like they know them p>
My knife pauses mid-stroke.
“Someone is feeding them our secrets,” I growl. “Fantastic. They have someone on the inside p>
Rafe drags a chair out with his boot and drops into it. “Yeah. This isn’t some kid screwing around with a side hustle. This feels very coordinated. We need to find the rat p>
“Agree. But in the meantime, let’s concentrate on closing ranks, so no information slips through the cracks, and then find the nephew. He’s going to get reckless. He’s trying to prove he’s a man.” I set the blade flat on the stone.
Vin flips another page. “Murphy likes to go to a bar on the edge of Dorchester. The Rusted Crown. Maybe we can find him there p>
A faint smile tugs at my mouth. “While that would be fun a bar might be too public for my needs p>
My phone buzzes on the table, and I glance down. UNKNOWN CALLER.
Rafe’s eyes narrow. “You expecting anyone p>
I shake my head, then hit the button to answer. “Speak p>
“Lorenzo.” The familiar angry voice says my name like he’s already planning my death. “Where are you p>
Shit. My spine goes subtly rigid.
“Running an errand,” I answer, trying to say as little as possible.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Get to the estate,” he says, and the line clicks dead.
I stare at my phone, trying to decipher whether I’ll make it home for dinner tonight.
Rafe watches me carefully. “Boss calling p>
I roll my shoulders, letting the irritation settle into something usable. “Yep,” I answer. “He wants me at his estate p>
Vin closes the folder slowly. “Now p>
“He didn’t send me a calendar invitation, so yes p>
I pull out my phone and open my security app. Rafe’s gaze flicks to my hand, trying to see. Image after image pops up on my cell’s screen.
All of my house.
The camera shifts. Hallway. Guards. Door.
Victoria’s door.
Still closed. Still guarded.
Good.
Only Rafe and the household staff know what’s behind that door. Because if my uncle finds out I dragged this girl into my life—
He wouldn’t understand.
I push away from the table and stand. “I’m going to see him p>
Rafe lifts a brow. “Want backup p>
I snort. “He’s my uncle, not a rival crew. If he wants me dead, backup just means more bodies p>
Vin’s mouth twitches. “We’ll keep digging p>
“You’ll do more than dig.” I grab my jacket. “I want a full map of Murphy’s life. What he drinks, where he sleeps, who he talks to.” I slide the knife into its sheath with a quiet click. “And I want you to find the rat in our house. We need to shut that shit down now p>
Rafe stands, following me so that no one can hear him. “And what about your wife p>
I stop at the door, keys in hand, and glance back at the app on my phone. Victoria’s door again.
“She stays asleep,” I say flatly, like it’s an order to myself as much as anyone else. “She doesn’t leave the property. She doesn’t touch the perimeter. If she asks questions…” I pause, then add, “Be polite while you lie p>
Rafe’s expression doesn’t change, but his tone turns a fraction softer. “Got it p>
“Good.” I smile, but there is no warmth. Rafe might be a friend, but if he fucks me on this, his blood will spill. “Because if she slips past you, it won’t matter that my uncle will kill me. I’ll kill you first p>
Rafe snorts. “Yeah. Knowing you, you’ll come back as a ghost to finish the job p>
“Exactly p>
I leave the warehouse, get into my car, and drive.
Once I pull through and stop by the entrance, a guard opens my door before I can touch the handle.
“Mr. Amante,” he greets, eyes forward, no emotions.
I nod before heading up the stairs and walk inside.
A few seconds later, I’m in the main room, and my uncle sits with two capos, a glass of something dark in his hand. He looks the same as always: calm but brutal.
He’s the kind of man who never raises his voice because he doesn’t need to.
“Lorenzo.” His gaze pins me. “Sit p>
I sit—not out of obedience, but because of respect. He took me in and taught me how to be a man.
Also, I might not remember my father, so in truth, he’s the only father I know.
One of his men, Tony, slides a file to me. “Another hit on one of our warehouses p>
I flip it open, eyes scanning.
“I’ll handle it,” I respond simply. “Rafe and I got it. We can run point p>
“Good.” His mouth tilts, not quite a smile. “I know I’ve already told you this, but your father would’ve been proud p>
A muscle jumps in my jaw as the words land like a fist to my ribs. If he knew what I did, what I’m hiding in my house—
He wouldn’t be proud. No, the only emotions I’d get are fury.
And fury from a man like him, or in this case, a man like my uncle, wouldn’t end in lectures.
It would end in a funeral.
Mine.
I lean back, feigning ease, making sarcasm do the work guilt tries to do. “Anything else p>
“I’m proud of you too,” he says evenly.
I nod once, the motion tight.
Meeting done. Orders given. I walk out feeling like a liar, but at least I walk out…
On the drive back, the image of Victoria’s door won’t leave me.
She’s asleep.
My stomach twists.
I’m a scumbag.
Why? Because I’m lying to the one man whose approval I still crave, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m hiding a marriage and have forced a woman into my life.
When I get back to my property, I don’t go inside right away. I stand on the front steps, breathing in the air.
Then I look at the security feed again because apparently, I’m obsessed. Still closed. Good. I drag a hand over my face.
I’m pathetic.