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CHAPTER7
Brogan
I hated everything about a tropical environment. Literally everything. The humidity leaving a sticky feeling on your skin, the constant ocean waves smashing against the shoreline, interrupting every thought. Even the glorious beauty everyone had touted to me over the years meant nothing.
Especially now.
I stood glaring out the window as Daniel paced the floor, grumbling under his breath as he’d done from the moment he’d stepped foot on the plane, carrying Dahlia in his arms as if she was a prized possession. Granted, in my mind, that’s exactly what she was, even though I’d been stupid enough to allow her to get close.
I’d been attacked three times while in prison, shanked once, the cut severe enough I’d been forced into the crude infirmary for a three-day stay. The experiences had allowed me to shut down my emotions completely.
Then she’d blown on my dice.
What a crock. I’d lost my mind, given into my raging desire.
I took a deep breath, then hissed. Alexander had taken us halfway across the fucking world and all I could think about was driving my cock deep inside Dahlia’s sweet little pussy.
“Did you do as I requested?” Daniel demanded from behind me.
Alexander snorted. “If you mean preparing my obituary, I had my Capo do that. He’s a damn good writer. For all practical purposes, I’m dead just like you asked.”
Daniel snorted. “I’m not certain that will do us any good.”
“That’s what you wanted.” Alexander was obviously pissed.
“Yeah. I did. The reason? Because some asshole tried to take my head off,” Daniel stated with more animosity in his voice than I was used to.
“I assume you have weapons in this… place.” My statement was gruff, maybe more than it should be, but I was convinced along with Daniel that whoever was truly out to kill us was far more capable than the tiny woman locked away in a cage of Alexander’s making.
“Of course I do.” Alexander headed toward the bookcase in the room, yanking a book away. I almost laughed when a hidden area came into view. Is this how mafia men kept their weapons? “Feel free to select whatever you want.”
I glared at the book he’d pulled, huffing under my breath. His choice?To Kill a Mockingbird. Who the hell did the man think he was kidding?
“This is all about Garrison,” I said quietly.
How interesting when a full ten seconds of silence passed.
“We can’t be certain of that,” Alexander commented, but his usual verve had disappeared. “We made many enemies.”
Yeah, we had, including some from other mafia organizations and some pretty powerful politicians. I had no doubt at least two of the attacks I’d faced while in prison were retaliation for something the four of us had done during our time spent at the university. Goddamn, I hated the place, the curriculum ridiculous. But my father had insisted, refusing to pay my tuition for any other establishment.
My thoughts drifted to Garrison. The man had suffered the way I had, only he’d lost his life while behind bars. While I wanted to place the full blame on Alexander, I’d agreed to partake in being a member of his powerful group.
I’d enjoyed the perks that had come with being top dogs. Women. Booze. Cheating, which allowed exemplary grades. I’d been a shit student yet had graduated with a three-point-eight grade average. Go figure. That’s when I’d understood the power of the Durante influence. I’d wanted more, which had allowed my dream-filled youthful mind to accept a position in his family’s regime. I’d been damn good at my job, becoming their assassin.
But the reason I’d been sent to prison had been personal. I had no doubt I’d been set up, all because I’d done Alexander a favor. What the fuck. I’d paid my dues. Incarceration had allowed me to process events from my past, trying to push them aside. I’d almost succeeded until this.
Now all I could think about was the way the mysterious woman had made me feel.
“This is about Garrison. I feel it in my blood,” I snarked, finally turning toward the other two. I’d had enough of the gorgeous tropical scenery to last a lifetime. “He died because of you,” I accused Alexander.
He walked closer, his jaw clenched. “He was a good soldier, an even better friend.”
“As if you understand friendship,” Daniel piped in.
I was surprised when Alexander maintained his cool. Maybe the man had changed over the years. A strange memory shifted into my mind, one I hadn’t thought about since the moment I was arrested.
“Garrison Fields. You’re under arrest for the murder of Carmine Luciano. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
