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My lips curl into a grin. They should enjoy their privileged existence while they still can. No amount of armed guards or iron gates will keep them safe from me. Moretti blood runs through my veins too, and I won’t stop until every last one of them is erased from existence.
Chapter
Two
ACE
Fucking assholes. My gaze flickers between the two men sitting directly in front of me, then to my boss. One of my bosses anyway, Joey Moretti. This meeting today was a last-minute thing, and she insisted on taking it despite my reservations about the two pricks sitting across from her. A couple of punks from New York who are trying to make a name for themselves in the casino security business. They clearly have no idea who they’re dealing with.
“I can guarantee that the services we offer will be a step up from any security you have in place now, Mrs. DiMarco,” the taller of the two says, referring to her by her married name.
“But as I told you on the phone, I’m very happy with our current security.” Her sweet-as-honey smile belies the ruthless streak simmering just beneath the surface. “They’re very good at what they do.” She nods toward my buddy and me standing at the back of the room.
I glance sideways at Romeo who rolls his eyes at me. The two men don’t even bother to turn in their seats and acknowledge us. Arrogant pricks.
“We’re not talking about your personal bodyguards, Mrs. DiMarco. We’re here to discuss the security in the hotel and casino.”
Casino security is managed by Utopia Securities, which is owned by a buddy of ours, Ash Larsson. A former bodyguard of Joey’s and her brothers, he branched out on his own with the support of the Moretti family a few years ago.
She offers a casual shrug. “Semantics. And as of yet, you’ve shown me absolutely no evidence of anything you can offer that would be comparable to the security company we currently have in place.”
The shorter one has barely spoken since he walked into the room, but he visibly bristles with anger now. The taller one smooths his hands over the buttons of his shirt and gestures toward his buddy to let him know he’ll handle it. “I can assure you—”
Joey cuts him off. “I can assure you that nothing you have to say is of any interest to me. I agreed to take this meeting because you’re new to this city and I wanted to see what you had to offer, but I’ve heard enough.” That smile is back on her face, but her tone drips with disdain. “You’ve come to the wrong city if you think you have any shot of making a name for yourself here.”
The shorter one grunts and bangs his fist on her desk, making her laptop skitter a few inches. Joey Moretti doesn’t even flinch, but her expression shows a hint of amusement. Romeo, however, is across the room in a flash. He grabs the asshole by the back of his head, slams his face into the desk, and drops him onto the floor, blood gushing from his nose.
“Now, just what in holy fuck—” the other one shouts, but I can only guess at what he was going to say next because I grab him in a headlock and press my forearm against his windpipe. He clutches at my arm, clawing pathetically at my suit jacket, and I squeeze tighter until his legs start flailing too.
“Do not speak to Mrs. DiMarco like that ever again.” He coughs and sputters while I glance at Joey. “What do you want me to do with him?”
She rolls her eyes. “Let him go and get the two of them out of here. Max and I have plans tonight. I don’t need him delayed helping you clean up this mess.” She waves her hand in the direction of the two assholes in her office.
Romeo grins at the man still struggling in my grip. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, fuckface.”
Romeo wipes the blood from his hands onto his dark suit pants and flashes me a devious grin. “That was fun, right?”
I shake my head and glance down at the blood splattered all over my jacket. “I’ll need to get this goddamn suit dry-cleaned again.” I hate wearing suits, so I only own four. You’d think that would be enough for a guy who only wears them on the job, right? Wrong. In my line of work, it’s rare I get more than one wear out of them before they’re covered in blood, snot, or puke—or all three.
“What the fuck are you two doing down here? Where’s Joey?” Max DiMarco’s deep voice carries down the dark alley behind the hotel.
I brush the creases from my jacket and come face-to-face with Cosa Nostra’s most ruthless enforcer and one of my other bosses. “Joey’s in her office. She’s fine. King and Forrest are with her.”
“But you two are her personal protection. Those other two clowns are just for show. So why the fuck aren’t you with her?”
“We were just taking out some trash, Boss,” Romeo says, all trace of his trademark cocky grin wiped clean. In fact, his shoulders roll back a little and he puffs out his chest. Max DiMarco trusting us more than anyone else with his wife’s protection means more to my best buddy than he’d ever admit.
Max gives him only a cursory glance before returning his attention to me. “What happened?”
“Two nobodies wanted a meeting with her, and she agreed at the last minute.”
He growls, and past experience tells me he’s frustrated at his wife’s tendency to make rash decisions with minimal thought for her own safety. Or her husband’s sanity. “What did they do?”
“They just got a little mouthy and disrespectful when she put them in their place, so Romeo and I taught them some manners. No big deal.”
A hint of a smile flickers across his face. “Send me their names so I can look into them.” He checks his watch. “I’m taking Joey home. You two can finish up for the day.”
“Thanks,” Romeo says, and Max only gives him a curt nod before brushing past him.
