Chapter 49
49
Lorenzo
We all take positions at the warehouse.
Two of my uncle’s men are stationed at the front door. One stands in the back of the building, and another looks bored while his hand rests on his gun.
I sit at a folding table with a scale and a ledger. Rafe hovers two feet to my right, jacket open, also with a hand on a gun.
Matteo, who’s leading the charge, stands front and center in the warehouse. Waiting. Arms crossed. Gaze sharp.
A truck rumbles outside. I can hear the tires crunching over the gravel before it rolls to a stop.
“Positions,” Matteo orders.
Rafe’s hand drifts casually to his gun as he waits.
“Hopefully, this goes smoothly.” Matteo cracks his knuckles.
“Smooth, doubtful. Does anything ever go smoothly?” I answer, watching through the window as the first SUV door opens.
“Have you always been so pessimistic?” Matteo laughs.
“Yep p>
The buyer steps out. He’s got to be in his mid-thirties. Hair gelled; he’s really giving off the stereotypical made man vibe. I swear I’m in an old 1990s mafia movie.
His men spill out behind him. Three men, to be exact.
The guard at the door swings it open, and the buyer and his men walk inside.
As soon as they do, they spot Matteo and me.
The greasy one walks forward with a smile.
“Matteo,” he calls, stopping a respectable distance away before acknowledging me next with a nod.
We let silence do the greeting.
His smile falters, then recovers. “Appreciate you both meeting us in person p>
“Appreciate you showing up,” Matteo replies, voice mild.
The buyer gestures behind him, and one of his guys drags a duffel toward the table. He drops it with a thud.
Rafe drifts over, fingers hooking the zipper, opening it.
So far, so good.
From where I’m sitting, I can clearly see the stacks of cash stuffed to the brim in the bag.
The buyer’s nostrils flare. “That’s the full amount p>
Rafe lifts a stack, thumbing the bills. “Relax. Nobody’s accusing you of anything… yet p>
The buyer forces a laugh. “We’re good for it p>
“Good,” I rest my fingertips on the table. “Because being bad for it ruins my mood and his.” I gesture to Matteo. “And when our mood gets ruined, people start losing things they need p>
I let my gaze slide to the buyer’s hands.
Then his throat.
Then back to his eyes.
He swallows.
Matteo shifts beside me, rolling his shoulders like he’s getting comfortable in the tension. “You two want to sing love songs, or are we doing business p>
The buyer’s eyes flick back to Matteo, confused, then to me, like he’s trying to figure out if this is my “friendly cousin” or my “loose cannon cousin p>
Both.
Rafe nods toward the crates. “Product’s ready p>
Vin snaps his fingers, and two of our men crack open a crate. One of the buyer’s men steps closer, reaching for a brick of cocaine.
Vin’s knife points at him in a warning.
The buyer’s guy freezes. Vin tilts his head, smiles sweet. “Ask first p>
The buyer lifts a hand, palm out. “Easy. We’re just verifying quality p>
“I’m going to need you to verify with your eyes.” Matteo strolls around the table. “I’m a man of my word. By touching it, you’re saying you don’t trust me… So what is it? Do you trust me p>
“Of course.” The buyer chuckles nervously.
“Good, that means we don’t need to take any fingers.” Matteo grins, looking sadistic.
Rafe’s mouth twitches.
I smile too.
“Matteo likes fingers. I like to take the whole hand,” I add. “We might be cousins, but we have different personalities p>
The buyer’s laugh dies in his throat. He nods quickly. “Right. Understood p>
Vin gestures at the product with a bored tilt of his chin. “Look all you want p>
The buyer leans in, peers, and nods like he has any idea what he’s looking at. “We’re good,” he announces, straightening.
“Fantastic,” I wave at the cash.
“Count it. Load your car. Then leave,” Matteo adds.
His men move fast after that. The money gets counted, and the product gets carried out.
When the last bag disappears into the SUV, the buyer pauses at the door. He glances at Matteo again, then at me. “Pleasure doing business.” He leaves in a hurry.
Matteo stays where he is, watching the car drive away before turning to me. He steps closer to where I’m sitting. “You’re off p>
My jaw tightens. “I’m fine p>
“Your face is doing that thing.” He taps his jaw. “The one where it looks like you’re deciding whether to kill someone, or well, I don’t know what else. You just look like you want to kill someone p>
“I’m not making a face p>
Matteo’s mouth lifts, amused. “Yeah, you are. You’re practically my brother. Trust me, I know you’re making a face p>
I reach for the ledger and flip it open. Matteo steps up beside me and closes it again. Matteo holds my gaze without flinching. He’s the only person on earth allowed to do this without getting killed.
“You can talk to me,” he says, quieter now.
I stare at him for a second. His concern is clear as day on his face. He’s right, he’s a brother to me, but I still can’t tell him what’s wrong.
My chest tightens.
“You want me to talk?” I stand and step around him. “Or you want me to entertain you with feelings p>
Matteo follows easily, matching my pace. “I want you to stop walking around like this p>
“I’m busy,” I reply, gesturing at the warehouse. “Your dad wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t work p>
He leans closer, lowering his voice. “This isn’t about work or my father p>
That’s where he’s wrong. This has everything to do with his father.
I can’t lose the only family I have, and if they find out what I’ve done, I will.
I laugh once, sharply.
Matteo’s eyes narrow. “You’re not sleeping p>
“Sleep is overrated,” I counter.
“You’re not eating p>
“Not true. I eat all the time.” I shake my head. “Did you come here to mother me p>
“Someone has to p>
I snort despite myself. It lasts half a second. Matteo catches it like a win.
“There it is.” He smiles, satisfied. “Still human. Barely.” I hate that he reads me so well.
I walk toward the office. Once inside, I head over to where a bottle of whiskey sits on a shelf. I grab it, twisting the cap with one hand.
Matteo is only a step behind but makes fast work of grabbing two chipped tumblers from a cabinet.
I pour.
Amber liquid splashes into the glass.
Matteo lifts his glass, clinking it lightly against mine. “To no issues today p>
“To small miracles.” I take a sip.
The whiskey bites, but it also steadies me. Something I need while I lie to him.
Matteo watches me over the rim of his glass, then drops it to his side with a sigh. “You need to blow off steam p>
“I have steam. It’s simmering. It’s fine p>
“That’s not steam,” he counters, leaning his hip against the desk. “That’s a volcano ready to erupt p>
I take another sip. “Maybe that’s how I have to be to get the job done p>
Matteo laughs, low and warm. “Peace might be nice.. p>
“Peace is boring.” I swallow the whiskey and let the burn distract me.
“You want advice?” I ask.
Matteo’s brows lift. “Do I p>
“Worry about someone else. I’m fine p>
Matteo’s eyes narrow. He’s suspicious. He’s also loyal enough to let me hide if he thinks I need it. “I was going to suggest you find a woman,” he says, as if testing the waters.
I choke on a laugh. “A woman p>
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Someone to take the edge off. Someone warm. Breathing. Preferably not armed p>
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You think sex will fix my attitude p>
Matteo’s smile turns wicked. “It fixes a lot of things p>
“Sex won’t fix that. I want to kill everyone p>
“That’s true,” he agrees readily.
“But I’ll think about it p>
Matteo’s eyes brighten like he’s pleased with himself. “Look at you. Growth p>
“Don’t get excited,” I warn, sipping again. “My growth is mostly cancerous p>
He grins. “So what’s the plan tonight p>
I glance at the clock, as if time is something I can still control. “Poker game p>
Matteo perks up. “At Cyrus’s p>
I nod once.
Matteo’s grin widens. “Perfect. I’ll go with you p>
I freeze mid-sip.
Matteo catches it immediately. “What? You afraid I’ll embarrass you p>
My jaw flexes. “You’re a walking embarrassment p>
“Aw.” He clinks his glass against mine again. “You love me. You do remember he was my friend first, right p>
“Fuck off. And I don’t love you p>
“You do p>
I push past him, heading for the exit. “Get in the car p>
Matteo follows.
The drive to Cyrus’s doesn’t take that long.
Matteo talks the whole way. Trying to figure out the shit with Boston. I let him fill the silence because if he doesn’t, my mind drifts to Victoria.
When I’m busy, I’m able to distract myself, but now that I’m not actively torturing or doing a deal, she’s all I can think about.
Her mouth.
Her eyes.
The way she looks at me, like she hates me and wants me in the same breath.
I focus on the road, on the snow, on anything but the fact that I’m not with her.
Luckily for me, Cyrus Reed’s mansion appears in the distance.
Warm light glows behind the huge glass windows as I pull up the driveway, passing the security gate that’s opened for us.
Matteo whistles low. “I’ll never get over how nice this place is p>
“Well, he does collect power and money,” I respond, pulling into the circular drive.
Matteo grins. “That he does p>
I cut the engine and glance at him. “Don’t lose all your money, like last time. Your dad will kill me p>
Matteo laughs as we step out into the cold. Snow crunches under our shoes with each step we take until we are finally inside.
Inside, we are instantly met with the smell of smoke and expensive liquor.
Cyrus stands in the main lounge, a glass of scotch in hand, sleeves rolled up. His gaze slides to me before flicking to Matteo.
“Matteo, fucking finally.” He looks over at me next. “Lorenzo p>
“That’s it? Where’s my love?” I joke.
“I see you every week, idiot p>
Matteo laughs at Cyrus’s words.
Cyrus’s attention swings back to me. His eyes drag over my face. Then he lifts his glass. “You look like you’ve been chewing glass p>
“Dinner.” I walk past him toward the bar. “My favorite meal p>
Cyrus chuckles softly.
Matteo drifts toward the poker table, already talking casually to the men sitting behind it.
I pour myself a drink, moving closer to where Cyrus stands.
Cyrus leans in so only I can hear. “How did it go p>
I don’t look at him. I swirl the scotch, watching the amber move.
“Fine,” I reply.
Cyrus’s mouth curves. “That’s not an answer you give when things go fine p>
I take a sip, letting it burn. “I got the desired results p>
His gaze is steady, calm, and intelligent. “Nothing more p>
I let silence hang.
Cyrus doesn’t press. That’s why I trust him with exactly what I trust him with—very little, very carefully measured.
He lifts his glass slightly. “Then congratulations. You got… whatever you wanted p>
I clink mine against his with a soft, controlled tap. “You don’t even know what I won, so don’t sound so proud p>
Cyrus’s smile sharpens. “Pride is my best quality p>
Across the room, laughter rises from the men seated at the table. Matteo catches my eye and jerks his chin, telling me to come over. I should go. I should lose myself in the game. That’s what I’m here for after all.
Instead, my mind drifts, unwanted again back to her…
Back to the way she looked when she almost kissed me.
Cyrus’s voice cuts through the fog. “You’re distracted p>
I glance at him.
His eyes are unreadable, but his tone is casual, almost kind. “Try not to be,” he adds. “Distraction gets men killed p>
Matteo calls from the table, waving a card. “Lorenzo. Get over here before I take all your money out of spite p>
I force my mouth into a smirk and walk over, sliding into a seat with the weight of my mood dragging behind me.
The poker game starts.
Chips and cards are handed out, and the scotch flows.
Matteo needles everyone within reach, and for a while, I almost forget the storm in my head.
Almost.
But between hands, and between the laughter and the banter… my mind returns to Victoria.
The dealer slides me a hand, and I glance at my cards.
Five three off suit.
Of course.
Across the table, Matteo grins like he can smell a win. “You look happier. That’s terrifying p>
I fold. “I’m not happy p>
“You’re something,” he counters, taking a sip of scotch. “I just can’t tell if it’s homicidal or something else p>
My jaw tightens. It’s something else all right. The need to get home and see my wife.
Matteo’s grin widens. “Now that’s an interesting reaction p>
I lean back, spinning a chip between my fingers. “Play your cards, cousin p>
Matteo’s eyes narrow, amused and suspicious in equal measure. “One day you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you p>
“One day,” I agree, voice smooth.
Matteo lifts his glass. “Liar p>
I clink mine against his. “Idiot p>
The game continues, yet my brain won’t shut up.
My fingers tighten around the chip until it bites my skin.
I don’t like caring.
I don’t like the way it makes me hesitate.
I don’t like that she still has the power to make my choices feel like they matter.
Across the table, Matteo laughs at something Cyrus says.
I force my attention back to the game.
But the thought of her doesn’t die.
When the hand is over, new cards are dealt.
And this one doesn’t suck.
I push a stack of chips forward, eyes fixed on the center of the table. “All in p>
And somehow, those words feel like I’m talking about something else.
Someone else.