Page 91 of Lucian

“Gio’s twenty-five,” Lucian grumbled under his breath. “He doesn’t need parenting about his messy bed.”

“He does when he sleeps over in my goddamn house and your mother refuses to let me hire her another maid and then complains about the state of his bed.”

“Listen, I handled the cops,” Lucian started. “Quick statement, number to contact, the usual. I didn’t have anything to say, didn’t see anything, and that was that. They can call my lawyer if they want something else.”

“Oh, I know.” Antony shook his head and grimaced. “I hate them picking around, though. They don’t need to be too close to any of us for any reason. It unsettles me. It’s unnatural for us to be communicating with police unless I’m paying them for information.”

“They were interested in why I was in the area,” Lucian added as an afterthought.

“And?”

“And nothing. I said I was visiting a friend. They wanted to know who, and I told them it didn’t make a difference as to why my car was involved in a drive by shooting. They couldn’t exactly disagree. Like I said, they have my lawyer’s number.”

“Was this about me?” Jordyn asked softly from the couch. “Or The Sons of Hell again?”

“Yes,” Lucian said immediately, because that’s what he assumed.

“No,” Antony stated at the same time.

Lucian spun on his heel. “What?”

Antony shrugged. “I don’t think it was about the MC.”

“That’s a joke, right?” Lucian asked. “After our little show with the strip club, you can’t expect them not to try something.”

“Well, unless I’ve heard wrong, it’s not them, Lucian.”

Lucian didn’t like how uncharacteristically quiet Jordyn was behind him. She’d been that way ever since the private car picked her and Antony up from Marcello Industries shortly after the shooting and brought them both to the home in Tuxedo Park. According to his mother and father, anyway.

Maybe she was frightened. Lucian didn’t know. Considering she wouldn’t talk to him.

“What have you heard?” Lucian asked, trying to distance himself from his inner worry.

Antony took his sweet time pulling out his office chair and sitting down, pulling up to his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a manila file and tossed it down uncaringly. Lucian didn’t make a move to grab the file because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to.

“That better not be some crap like you pulled on me the last time I was shown a folder,” Lucian said, tempering his tone. “Not right now.”

By the last time, he meant the bullshit about Jordyn’s past and life.

“Once was enough,” Antony replied dully. “You know why I did that, so don’t start chewing my ass off again.”

“What, then?”

Antony sighed heavily. “Will Vetta is deceased.”

Lucian’s spine cracked as he straightened, hearing the words but not quite believing he understood them correctly. The quiet, whimpered noise behind him didn’t escape his notice, either. It was almost like he could feel Jordyn’s shock and confusion radiating straight into his own veins.

“Excuse me?” Lucian asked thickly.

“Will is dead,” Antony repeated. “His body was found under a Brooklyn bridge by a jogger early last week.”

Lucian’s mind raced to do the math. “But, wait … No, that doesn’t work.”

“It does. I have the reports, son. I paid a pretty dime to get them before they were released as public record, considering there’s an active investigation going on around the club right now. By the Coroner’s estimation, he died at least two days after we hit Legs and Leather. That’s a long time before today, Lucian.”

“One of his guys, then. Maybe following out orders before he died.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Antony murmured. “We made our point. Three men walked into their club and cleared it for business. We barely needed to do a thing. They didn’t expect us. They couldn’t even fight back. It was only a small taste of what we’re capable of, and I think they knew it.”