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She gasps. “Of course not. Sonny only wanted to talk with you.”
I scoff.
Damien snorts.
She scrambles for words while glancing at the door. “His men?—”
“Don’t you dare say a word, Marsha,” Sonny grunts, grabbing her waist with one arm and tugging her back. He captures the gun from her hand while groaning at his shoulder wound.
If only I could’ve shot him in the head. I’d find his brain matter in the kitchen more appetizing than anything my mother could’ve prepared.
She continues standing in front of Sonny, and I hear a rush of voices.
Sonny cackles. “Your death warrant is here, Antonio. Have fun trying to outpower ten of my men versus you two.”
I glance back at Damien, and right before I can shoot Sonny again, Nuncio appears in the doorway. Since I didn’t put this past my mother, I have an escape plan for Damien and me.
I jump over the island while we exit through the kitchen staff’s entrance. Nuncio chases us, and Damien shoots at him while I key in a passcode to enter the underground passages my father secretly constructed before he and my mother moved in.
The door beeps, the keypad turns green, and I open the steel door. Damien slips inside and slams the door only seconds before Nuncio reaches us. Nuncio bangs on the other side and tells us we’re dead men.
My adrenaline is wild as we run through the tunnel, and I direct him toward one of the three exits. We jog the mile run to the hidden exit, and Julian awaits us. I dig the remote from my pocket and press my thumb against the button.
I grin at the sound of a loud boom.
Damien laughs.
Julian shakes his head and calls me fucking crazy.
Before we walked into my mother’s house, we dropped bombs into the bushes beside the front door. I’m always prepared for violence.
“This isn’t fucking over,” Damien says, adjusting his collar as we duck into Julian’s SUV.
“It’s just started.” I wipe the side of my mouth as Julian speeds off in the opposite direction of my mother’s house. “If Sonny survives that bomb, I’ll gut him alive and record him screaming in pain, so I can listen to it anytime I’m having a bad day.”
“Uh …” Julian pays me a quick glance. “I don’t know if this is a bad time to tell you this, but …” He hesitates.
“Spit it out, Julian.”
“Gigi is engaged to Elijah Becker.”
I sit in my car, chewing on a toothpick, while parked in front of the Chicago high-rise. People pass by as I slip on black leather gloves and exit my car. Lucky for me, Julian has great connections in Illinois. I hand the employee a folded hundred, and he waves me in through the back door.
There’s a long list of reasons I dislike Elijah Becker.
First, I hate his piece-of-shit family. I killed a few members years ago, including his brother. Well deserved, of course. Elijah never sought revenge for his brother’s death. Instead, he sent me a bottle of Dom Perignon. He’s now his father’s successor to their crime empire.
Second, whenever I was around him in the past, he annoyed the ever-loving fuck out of me. The man laughs at his own jokes, flexes his money like it makes his dick bigger, and has the shiny face of a family full of criminals. Pot calling the kettle black on that last reason, but I don’t give a fuck.
Third and most important is his newfound interest in Gigi. According to my sources, she visited Chicago, had dinner with Elijah, and then returned to New York. That isn’t some mere coincidence. It doesn’t take many brain cells to figure out their game.
Elijah would be a great ally to Cristian because he does a great job of hiding how crooked he is. No way am I letting him get his hands on Gigi.
It’ll be fun to take my frustrations out on him.
I take the stairs to his penthouse, key gripped in my hand, and let myself in. The place is silent and empty, and I pour a drink before making myself comfortable at the dining room table while waiting on Elijah.
Two hours later, the door opens, and Elijah comes into view with a woman behind him. I watch as she giggles annoyingly while following him into the living room.
