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Chapter One
Gio
Click, click, motherfucking boom.
I hit the enter key, and Ernesto Moreno’s offshore bank account just transferred two million dollars into fourteen separate accounts and then spread out into twenty-eight others, multiplying like a virus for the next twenty minutes. The money is gone forever. Well, at least for him. In two hours, it will be available to a Russian asset who will empty the account and then reinvest with Landon Black Jr.
My phone rings as I pack up my things to head out to my next assignment. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Giovanni, are you being careful out there?” Her anxious voice hurts my chest a bit given the past week’s activities because she’s normally gritty and iron-willed.
“Always.”
“It’s just that you don’t like violence, and it’s dangerous right now,” she says. It amuses me that my mother is worried that I’m not packing heat, unlike most mothers who worry about their sons.
“Don’t worry. I’m not alone either. Is Father nearby?” I have a team of men who guard me like I’m a fucking prince instead of a specialized accountant for the Conti Mafia.
“Yes. Do you want to speak with him?” My father, although nearly retired, is the head of the Conti Family’s enforcement. He handles all the dirty work with the boss’s direction. Although most of the time, he’s good at running the show given his decades of enforcing.
“No. Just let him know I’m on to my next meeting and that I’ll stop by for lunch unless things get messy.”
“Understood. Be careful.”
“Always. I love you, Mama.” I end the call and send Matteo a message. Meeting complete. Meeting with Franklin next. Given our situation, we speak in code in case we have anyone monitoring us. We had a detective visit our homes, and we knew he was on the take—but not for us, so we have to be extra cautious.
It’s been three days since Moreno and his crew tried to wipe out everyone on my sister’s birthday. We fared way better than his people, thanks to my sister and her antics, but we need to seek retribution, so I’ve been working nonstop, dipping into their finances and draining their accounts with the help of my friends.
Now, it’s time to check in with some fucks who owe us money. I leave the internet hotspot and meet my small crew. The details of my operation are kept just between those who need to know, so I left my men outside while I worked. The less they know, the less they have to snitch. Not that I expect anything but their full loyalty. However, human nature and sin have a way of changing people. “Samson, we’re going to McIntyre’s.”
“Okay, Gio.” I climb in the back while Elio rides shotgun. The entire upper ranks of the family go around with a little more security these days, even though we wiped out a good deal of the Morenos. Still, while they’re licking their wounds and planning another attack, I’m certain my plan will put everything to rest.
The drive is a short one because the best way to hide your signal is to work in a crowded place, so I stayed in the heart of downtown Chicago before heading to North Franklin Street. The area is filled with medium-sized office buildings, but I’m only interested in one of them—where a certain slick fucking accountant better be sitting behind his desk waiting for me. He and I need to have a word or two. He’s supposedly been on vacation with his family for the last week, so I’ve kept my cool and waited, but today is payday, or some fingers are about to be broken.
Most of the time, I’m not like my family or like my boss and now brother-in-law, Matteo, but I have moments where the devil in me comes out, and that’s when you fuck with my money. That’s something I never play with, and if you dick around with the finances, I’ll have your head in a vise and will twist until it pops. It’s one of the few things in life I hate: liars, cheats, and thieves. Shamus McIntyre is proving to be all three.
“I’ll go in alone. Stay back in case the pussy decides to pop out one of the other exits. Understood?” I brought two other guys with me, which isn’t enough to cover the entire building, but McIntyre isn’t expecting me, so we’ll nab the prick if he wants to play games.
“Yes, Gio.” They nod and go to the other doors while I take the main entrance. After all, I have no intention of putting a bullet in McIntyre’s head today. No, that could wait for one of the guys to catch him driving in a bad neighborhood after stopping at the bank or something that would make him an easy target. Getting ugly in broad daylight isn’t something I like to do because my pretty face doesn’t need to be broadcast to the public.
Adjusting my suit, I push through the revolving doors and enter the lobby. It’s dimly lit. Average, just like any other lobby of a basic business building outside of the main downtown area in Chicago. There’s nothing special about it, except that it has a million dollars that better be waiting for me.
The security guard, a relaxed, middle-aged woman with her cell phone in hand, nods as I walk toward the elevator because security is only here to ward off the bums and the crackheads from coming into the place. They never worry about the more dangerous people like me: the devils in suits with deadly intentions. I might give the appearance of a gentleman, but I could destroy your world in a heartbeat, and I would if given a reason.
I check the directory next to the elevators, looking for the dickhead’s floor and office number just in case he tries to pull a fast one and move into another office.
As I suspected, the pencil dick did just that—two floors down from his usual floor. Instead of the financial floor, he’s on the shrink floor, it would seem. There are two different counselors on the floor, along with a psychologist.
My guns and blades are tucked securely away. Still, I check my suit again while waiting for the elevator to open. The second I step inside, I’m assaulted with a delicious scent; I don’t know what it is, but whoever was just on here must smell fucking divine. I breathe in the scent of fucking freshly baked sugar cookies and vanilla. My dick stiffens like the damn steel hardware I’m carrying. Damn, I’m turned on by someone’s fucking grandma.
Shaking my head, I get off on the third floor and see the same beige color in the lobby with dark, wood-grain trim that has seen better days. Striding down the hall, I get that whiff again. Damn, I’m like that fucking toucan and about to follow my nose, but I have to chase my goal, and that’s getting my hands on the money McIntyre should have for me.
I grab the office door handle and turn the knob, but it doesn’t open. Strange, since it’s standard business hours. Pounding on the door, no one answers. “McIntyre, open the fuck up.” He doesn’t answer, so I bust out my special toolkit, and I’m about to pop the lock when the aroma of my little vanilla-scented queen appears out of nowhere. I turn around in time for a little body to collide with my chest. My hands stretch out, and I hold her momentarily when I shouldn’t.
“Oh my God,” she squeals, slowly looking up and then quickly back. I follow her gaze, searching for the piece of shit she’s afraid of because they’ve just made my list of enemies, but there isn’t anyone behind us.
I dip my head down and gaze at this petite raven-haired beauty with hazel eyes. “Where are you running to, Cupcake?” I ask, staring at the most beautiful woman in the world. From head to toe, she’s made to entice, to eat up, a delicious snack to devour. She’s definitely not a grandma, and my dick notices tenfold.
“Um…” She avoids my question and turns her attention to whatever is behind her.
