The Bellini Mafia family.
They’re a family that’s been on my radar for a while, and they generally take care of their own problems in-house, but with such a high-profile case, they’re playing it smart and outsourcing to a professional. This isn’t the kind of job that will go under the radar. It will be splashed over every news station across the country, but they won’t find anything, not where I’m involved.
Arriving at my storage unit, I give myself a moment to look deeper, searching into his real-estate portfolio—both the legitimate properties and those bought under the table with dirty money and back-room handshakes. From what I can tell, he owns properties across the globe, making him one hell of a flight risk.
His primary residence is in New York with his wife and children. However, he mostly frequents a property in Austin, Texas. He has offices there, a mistress, and a secret affair baby.
As I mentioned, he’s a real stand-up guy.
My gut is telling me that Austin is where I need to be, and after doing a deeper dive into his Austin estate and hacking into his home security and phone records, I confirm exactly what I need to know.
Grabbing everything I need, I start loading up the rental, and within ten minutes, I’m back on the road, heading to the private airstrip in the San Fernando Valley.
It’s a three-hour flight, and I spend every second of it looking deeper into Alistair, and by the time the wheels are deploying over Texas, I know exactly how I’m going to approach this.
I wait until nightfall, staking out the property and watching Alistair’s movement. His phone line was easy to tap, though I was surprised anyone still uses a landline for anything. Listening to his conversations has been pure entertainment. He’s cocky, that’s for sure. Thinks he’s untouchable. He knows there’s a possibility that the Bellini family will organize a hit, but he severely underestimates them. They aren’t the low-level mafia family he thinks them to be. They obviously have the means to find him outside of New York.
He thinks he’s safe in his little city penthouse at the top of the fifth-floor complex, and that in a few days, he’s going to smooth this all over, but little does he know that he won’t make it through the night.
Glancing down at my wrist, I watch as the time ticks over to 10 p.m., and not a moment later, under the cover of darkness, I slip out of my newest rental and step out onto the street, my gaze sailing up to the fifth-floor penthouse across the street.
Hired guards are stationed at the front of the building, andmore inside, but dealing with them isn’t going to be an issue, and unfortunately, collateral is sometimes required as part of the job.
Now the question is, do I slip into the shadows and go in like a ghost in the night—silent and deadly? Or do I go full Kiara chaos and take this job guns blazing, unforgiving, and relentless?
As I stride toward the luxury apartment complex, two sharppopsfill the night, and I watch the guards drop to the pavement, each with a bullet placed cleanly between the eyes.
My head snaps toward the sound, and there she is in all of her fucking breathtakingly lethal glory. Kiara St. James. Standing just up the street, gun lifted to her lips as she blows across the barrel like she’s putting out a candle, that infuriating, delicious smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
Fuck me. I am so in love with this woman. But it’ll be a cold day in hell when I allow her to take this hit out from under me.
I guess we’re going full Kiara on this one.
She holds my gaze for only a second, the thrill of the competition flashing wild and bright in her green eyes, before we both bolt for the apartment complex. I don’t hold back—my long strides devour the distance, and we slam into each other at the door in our rush to be first. She yelps, then laughs, her shoulder knocking hard against my ribs before she shoves through the main entrance before me and tears into the staffed lobby.
Hired guards crowd every corner, immediately launching into action as they reach for their guns, but they don’t possess even a fractionof the speed we have, and as I storm in behind my little firecracker, we open fire, sharp pops from our guns firing through the room.
The terrified staff scream and hit the floor as Kiara drops two of the guards. “You don’t stand a chance,” she calls, her shots splitting the air like snapping wood, precise and controlled as chaos erupts around us. “Might as well head back home and wait for me there. Let the real professional handle business.”
I scoff and veer for the stairs. “Sure thing, Firecracker. You handle this mess, and the real professional will take care of Alistair.”
“Fuck!”
She gasps just as I slip into the emergency exit, not bothering with the elevator, knowing she can handle the untrained security guards without even breaking a sweat.
The staff would’ve already sounded the alarms and locked the elevators down to protect their residents. That gives us minutes—maybe less—before the place is swarming with law enforcement. I don’t know about Kiara, but I pride myself on never having my ass hauled away in the back of a police cruiser, and I don’t intend to start tonight.
Sailing up the stairwell, I listen to the rhythmic crack of Kiara’s shots, each one followed by the heavy thud of a guard hitting the floor, and I can’t help but admit she’s fucking incredible. A sharper shot than me? Not a fucking chance. But she’s right up there.
I fly past the second floor and take the third two steps at a time when I hear Kiara storming in at the bottom.
“Low blow, asshole,” she calls up the stairwell.
“What’s the matter? Can’t handle the heat?”
“Fuck, I hate you.”
“I’d say you could tell me all about it later, but you’ll have your mouth full of my fat cock.”
