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“As you wish.”
Chapter Ten – Ezekiel
As a general rule, I did not enjoy parties. The Black Hand did not throw them often, but when they did, I typically refused to come. The only reason I went to the one where I’d first met Giselle was because Atticus had asked me to personally; he’d wanted me to help him access the hopefuls, so to speak.
And the only reason I was here, at this party tonight, was because of Giselle. Because she’d asked me to. I’d been waiting for her to ask me for help for what felt like eons, and now that she’d finally asked, I would bend over backwards to see her desires granted.
What was her desire for tonight? Rocco. Or, rather, me getting Rocco for her.
The party was held at the Jameson residence, so only those close to the Black Hand itself were invited. I was not stupid; the location of the party was chosen to put minds at ease—especially those of Rocco and Miguel.
Shay was there, as were her lovers. The not-so-talkative Slade, the ex-Hawke who was now the eldest Jameson and therefore the heir to the Jameson line, and the twins that were pushed aside the moment they found out Nixon Hawke was their blood brother. I sensed some tension between them, but they were not my focus tonight.
Rocco brought Luca, of course, and Miguel brought his pregnant fiancé, Gianna. I’d never met the woman before, but just from a quick glance, I saw she was quite literally ready to burst and practically as old as Giselle herself, if perhaps a few years older.
Others came to celebrate, of course. Piper Lipman was among them, though she stuck to Shay’s side. The girl’s plan, from what I’d heard, was to leave Cypress in the dust, to leave it all behind—so the fact that she was still here told me she was a part of all of this. Slade’s parents were there too; the Hand members who seemed to adore Miguel, who were ridiculously happy to see him on the Hand.
There were drinks aplenty. Atticus had hired a waiting service, so waiters and waitresses zigzagged through the groups, offering fresh drinks and taking any emptied glasses. Some even had finger foods.
Miguel and Rocco hung out together, while Gianna stood close by, eyes glazed over as she held onto her round stomach. Luca had wandered off to talk to Shay and the others; I couldn’t see them from where Miguel and Rocco stood in the sitting room.
I did not approach either man right away. I waited until the party was in full-swing, until both Miguel and Rocco had had at least two drinks each. I circled the outskirts of the party, keeping my eyes and ears open. It was not until I saw Atticus approach Miguel and Rocco that I drew near.
Tonight was a careful business. You could not rush these things. You had to take your time, get to know the crowd, the exits, the fastest route to the car. How you’d drag a body out without anyone noticing.
Ah, it would be tricky. Very tricky. But it was doable. I would not fail Giselle.
I waited a few minutes for Atticus to get deep into a conversation with them before I approached, and when I approached I came from behind. I spoke, “Atticus,” thereby alerting the man to my presence.
Atticus smiled at me, stepped aside so I could join the conversation. “Ah, Father Ezekiel. I’m glad you could make it. Did you grab anything to drink? There’s plenty—spared no expense for our two newest members.” As he spoke, both Rocco and Miguel seemed to ooze a type of haughty pride. “You’ve met them before, haven’t you?”
I drew my gaze to Miguel, forcing a smile. “Yes, I do believe so. At that first party downtown, although your daughter was with you then, not this lovely creature.” I bowed my head toward Gianna, who blushed.
“This is Gianna,” Miguel introduced us, though I could tell by the twitching of a muscle on the side of his forehead that he did not want to. Or perhaps he did not appreciate me calling her a lovely creature. “My fiancé.”
Miguel was an intimidating man to most people. Tall and confident, with a dark complexion that rivaled mine. Pitch-black eyes and matching hair, he was well-groomed each time I saw him. Wearing an all-black suit, he looked like the devil.
But if there was a devil here, it certainly was not Miguel Santos. No, that honor would be mine, in proxy of Giselle.
“Wonderful to meet you,” I said, shaking Gianna’s hand. Turning my attention back to Miguel, I said, “I wanted to congratulate you both on your victory. It’s been many years since the Hand took someone new in.” My gaze shifted to Rocco Moretti. “Hopefully this time things turn out better, for everyone involved.”
Rocco was a man stuck firmly in his mid-forties, older than Miguel by a few years, I would say, although time itself was not as kind to him as it had been to Miguel. Rocco looked old. Miguel… he simply didn’t.
“Ah, yes,” Miguel went on, biting at the bait I’d laid down. “I heard about that. One of your previous members went crazy, didn’t he? It’s why we’re all here. What was his name?”
Atticus smiled stiffly, though his light eyes darted to me, possibly wondering why I’d throw such bait down. “The Cobra. He… he simply went by the Cobra. After what we thought was a total annihilation of the Arrowwood line, we thought the Cobra proved himself more than capable of taking the reins. We were wrong.”
“Ah, yes, the Cobra,” Miguel spoke, though he paused to take a sip from his champagne glass. “Whatever happened to him?”
As Atticus answered him by telling him justice was served, I stepped closer to Rocco and lowered my voice as I said, “I also wanted to offer my sympathy and condolences. I heard Giselle was kidnapped. I hope, now that you’re on the Hand, you will do everything in your power to find whoever’s responsible and bring them to justice.”
Whatever amiable mood Rocco had before vanished somewhat the moment I mentioned Giselle. It was like his mask cracked, and just for a split second I saw the real man. The filthy, vile man who couldn’t care less about Giselle’s well-being. The man who had scarred her for life, sleazy and disgusting.
If it wouldn’t have caused a big scene, I would’ve grabbed his neck and squeezed as hard as I could, watched as his skin turned blue and the blood vessels in his eyes popped one by one from the strength of the strangulation.
He deserved nothing less than the vengeful wrath of the Old Testament God.
“Thank you, Father,” Rocco said. “It’s a shame someone thought they could get away with it. My boy really seemed to like her—something you don’t always find in arranged marriages.” He was so full of shit he stank.
