Page 129 of Coveted By Cupid

I roll my eyes at my VP, sipping my wine and wishing it was whiskey instead.

Piero chuckles, popping an olive into his mouth. “I’m glad you find the accommodations to your liking, Oaks. Normally, I don’t do business out of my home. But I’ve heard firsthand from your National Chapter President—Jameson—that your operation is loyal to its customers. I hope you don’t mind doing a house call instead of meeting on neutral territory.”

“It’s not our norm,” I say. “But given the size of the delivery, I can understand not wanting to transport the goods twice.”

“Yes, it is a rather large order. But that’s intentional. Half is for mio fratello.”

My Italian is rusty, but I remember enough from my nonna speaking it to me as a child to understand what Piero is saying.

“Your brother?” I vaguely recall Rock from the Durango chapter mentioning the don was tight with an MC in Colorado, considering them family. “He’s the biker you mentioned earlier?”

“Sì. He will join us soon. It’s a surprise for him.”

Interesting. We do background checks on all our potential buyers. There was nothing in the don’s file about a brother.

“Gifting guns? That’s a fucking awesome surprise,” Oaks says impressed before turning to me with a puckered face. “How come you don’t gift me any guns? I’m your brother. I’m like your favorite best brother. I like guns too. Would it kill you to give me a Smith & Wesson every so often?”

“Depends on who you plan on using the gun on?” I tease. “You’ve never complained about the Harley-Davidson birthday gift cards I give you yearly.”

“I’m not saying no to either,” Oaks says, backpedaling. “But you could switch it up once in a while.”

Heavy footsteps loom behind us. I turn to see who is coming, and my eyebrows jump to my hairline.

The Mercy Ravens MC President approaches, frowning at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working. What the fuck are you doing here?”

He waves at Piero. “I’ve come to see mi hermano.”

“Ah! Wonderful. You’ll all know each other. We can skip introductions and get right down to business,” Piero says, ignoring the tension between us.

I spin in my seat to face the don, befuddled. “Atlas is your biker brother?”

“Brother by choice,” Piero says, sipping his wine. “I’ve killed all the males in my immediate family.”

Oaks gives me a sideways glance, whispering, “Did he just say that out loud?”

I’m equally shocked. It’s a pretty bold admission of guilt to say to men you’ve met minutes ago. Then again, he’s a mafia don—killing is in the job description, even if it’s family.

“Come sit. I have a gift for you,” Piero says, waving his Colombian brother over.

Atlas takes the seat next to the don, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “What have you gotten yourself involved in, Piero?”

“You need not worry,” he says to Atlas before he smiles, wagging his eyebrows. “I’m replenishing your arsenal.”

Atlas blinks at his brother before closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You bought illegal firearms from the Royal Bastards?!”

Well, damn. Seems the Mercy Ravens MC has been aware of our club’s operations all along. No doubt their hacker dug up that dirt on the dark web somewhere. I’ll have Cipher clean up our digital footprint.

“Sì. I bought lots of guns with my dead asshole of a cousin’s money,” he says in an almost giddy tone before he quickly sobers, doing the sign of the cross. “May he rot in hell.”

Atlas opens his eyes, scowling at the don. “I’m all for spending Lorenzo’s dirty money. But come on, Piero. You could have easily bought legal weapons.”

The don scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that, Atlas? I’ll have you know, I’ve gone to great lengths to legitimize most of my business practices. However, every once in a while a mobster wants to be a mobster and do some illegal feces.”

“It’s shit,” Atlas says, correcting his brother. “We don’t say feces. We say shit.”

“Same thing,” Piero says dismissively, downing the rest of his wine.