Page 81
“Fuck off!”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, soft sounds of footsteps reach our ears.
Elias.
My eyes snap to Casey’s and he gives me a curt nod before stalking off.
A minute later, the man himself strides through the French doors.
Clad in a slim-fitting black suit and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, this is the first time I’ve seen the mobster not dressed in a three-piece outfit, looking like he’s stepped out of a turn of the century British TV drama featuring gentlemen gangsters.
My brow hikes up as I take in the casual tousle of his dark hair, a lock falling over his face, covering that long scar.
“Where’s the lighter? Who are you and what did you do with my big, bad crime boss?”
Elias ignores me, but I see the telltale glint of amusement in his green eyes. “I’m on vacation.”
“You’re wearing a ten-thousand-dollar Armani suit,” I deadpan.
He cocks his brow.
“What? I know my clothes. Do you think I look this sexy without effort?”
“I don’t even know why I’m entertaining you with an answer, but proper clothes are important. People respond to the way you dress,” hemurmurs, and for a second, a shadow falls over his face and he glances away.
Before I can ask him about his expression, he takes out his lighter.
This time, he doesn’t flick it open. Instead, he stares at the silver-gold surface, an unidentified emotion in his eyes.
“It was The Association. Confirmed now. A John Doe was found in Athens last week. Bullet between the eyes, execution style. My men got hold of the photos and records. It was the other shooter in Santorini. They left a calling card.”
He pulls out a thick, black card from his pocket, engraved with the letter A.
My chest seizes, remembering the sheer horror spearing my heart when I saw the man pointing a gun at Olivia. “They’re eliminating loose ends and warning us.”
Elias nods.
“Bree is a loose end. You never told me what she has on them. Why is she so critical to move to a safe house?”
“The less you know, the better. You’re an Anderson. Since they still want your family to join them, they’re less likely to touch you. But push hard enough, and they’ll act. You don’t want to be their next target, do you?”
I scoff and turn back to the sea, watching the clouds in the distance thicken, a heavy weight pressing against the ocean in a declaration of war.
I have a feeling we’ll all be victims of it soon.
“It’s too late for me.”
I don’t think I spoke the words aloud, but apparently, I did because Elias frowns.
“Not too late, Rex. You’ve never seen what ‘too late’ looks like, trust me.” There’s a strange urgency in his voice—a warning, a confession, all rolled into one.
“I consider you a friend,” he continues, “you and your brothers. There aren’t many people in the world I’d say those words to. In my business, sentimentality gets you killed.”
He taps his fingers on the railing and stares at his lighter again. This time, he flicks it open and a small orange-blue flame appears. It flickers in the wind for a second before snuffing out.
A lump thickens in my throat. This is the most I’ve heard the man talk, and I just know he’s going to say something I don’t want to hear.
I do what I do best—deflect.
