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"Of course." He nods, and I let Luna go. I watch until they disappear, but I don't miss her casting a glance over her shoulder to look at me once more. The action has my chest tightening.
She's fucked with me.
She's made me feel.
And now, she can never walk away.
Chapter 29
Enzo
There's tension in the air as we make our way to the cars. Nobody speaks. We're an army going to war. I slip into the back of the SUV with Franco, while Mario takes the driver's seat. The convoy of cars that move out of the property would make any sane man crazy. Blacked out windows, sleek, shiny raven-hued metal, with men inside that could either make you cry or make you scream, most times, we do both.
"She's getting under your skin," Franco says, his voice stern, yet calm as if he's talking about the weather. I don't want to respond, so I leave his assessment to hang in the air for a while. "I can read you like a book, Enzo," he tells me.
"Perhaps," I answer, my gaze meets Mario's in the rear-view mirror, and I can see the smile that creases the corners of his eyes. He's known me for so long, along with Franco, so they both probably think the same. "She's a good fuck," I tell Franco.
"You may say that now, but to send her home to safety means more in our world than just a good fuck," he says, before glancing at me. I can feel his stare piercing a hole right through me. When you've grown up in this life, you're taught to read people, to pick up on their tells, signs that they're nervous, uncomfortable, and uneasy. There is no doubt he can see pass my façade of trying to play it cool.
"She is my fiancée. If I don't make sure she's safe, I'll mar my father's last wish for me to marry her," I say, but then smile. "Also, perhaps she's niggling at my defenses. There's something about the sweet, innocence that she exudes."
"I thought so." He nods slowly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting someone in your life, Enzo. A family."
"You can talk, you've been single for years. When are you going to take your own advice?" I ask, keeping my attention on him.
He shrugs. "At times, I think it's pointless." There’s pain in his words, and I want to dig deeper, but I don't. Instead, I allow the silence between us. "Maybe one day I'll find someone who can put up with me." He chuckles while shaking his head. "What about you Mario?" Franco asks my best friend. "Any pretty young things in your sights?"
"Not right now. My focus is the job." The conversation is light, carefree almost, considering we're about to stop a shipment of drugs from being brought into our city. It doesn't take us long to hit the pier, and once we're all parked and out of the cars, I'm tense once more. My shoulders tight with anxiety.
"This way," Franco leads, and we follow. Our steps echoing in the darkness. When we reach the warehouse, we're met by the rest of the Moretti clan, as well as more De Rossi men who are already armed with guns in hand.
The Irish have no idea we're here. And they're in for a surprise. I pull my knife from its sheath and grip it tightly. In my other hand is a Glock which I've only used a handful of times. The handle engraved with the De Rossi emblem.
"It's docking," a man tells Franco as we near the edge of the pier. The water below is tar black, licking against the wooden surface of the gangplank. We watch from the shadows as they lower the bridge of the ship, a handful of men making their way off the boat with heavy sacks of what I can only assume is the product.
"Wait until they've packed everything in the container," Franco orders. The men disperse quietly in the darkness, keeping to the shadows. It seems the Irish are clueless as they continue unpacking coke from the boat.
A man saunters down the gangplank and Franco stiffens. "Who is that?" I ask, but he only shakes his head. I don't continue my questioning because it's then we realize the ship is now empty of all the sacks. It’s time we need to move. But the moment I push to full height, my gut clenches when I see Tommaso coming at us with a gun. The man who Franco recognized is also armed.
Bastard is working with the Irish.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
My arm extends, my finger on the trigger. I keep my focus on one man and one man only. I leave the rest to our crew as I stop in front of Tommaso. It seems Valentino truly was a fucking bastard who turned on his family.
