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Chapter One
“Fucking hell,” I gritted out as I read the text over my grandmother’s shoulder. Tasa was safe and she begged us not to look for her. Really, Tasa? As if I’d leave my baby sister to hang out to dry, regardless of whether she’d run away from home or not. Oh, and had she conveniently forgotten about her fiancé, Cristo? And what part of the term “dangerous enemies” had not penetrated her thick skull, despite my relentless repetition of that threat?
Bunica gave a nonchalant shrug of her skinny shoulders and a grin that showed off her gold tooth. That woman could get her teeth fixed a thousand times over, but she wasn’t one to put on airs. As she always said, “I was born a peasant girl, and I’ll die a peasant girl.”
Peasant girl, my ass. She was as sharp as they came, and while she loved to ham it up with her country ways, she’d graduated from Romania’s finest medical school. No lie, she could dig out a bullet and sew up the wound in under half an hour. It had come in handy on more than one occasion, when the doctor on our payroll didn’t arrive quickly enough.
“What is she thinking?” I spat out. “She’s roaming the country doing God knows what. No protection, no bodyguard, no—”
“Oh, hush, you act as if Tasa’s an invalid instead of a smart young woman who can take on the world with one hand tied behind her back. She’ll be fine. And you best leave her alone,” she warned, poking at my chest with her bony finger.
I stared down at her, incredulous. Leave my sister to roam the country unprotected? Is she insane?
“Christ, Bunica, she’s a female. Alone.”
My eyes rolled up to the kitchen ceiling, seeking patience, as I took a seat on one of the stools scattered around the island in the kitchen of our family home. This was where Bunica practically lived so this was where family members came to talk to her. Was I the only rational one in this conversation? It wasn’t like she didn’t know who we were. It’s not like she wasn’t acutely aware that our enemies would start crawling out of the woodwork to kidnap Tasa.
“A lone female,” I reiterated, emphasizing the word “lone” in hopes of getting through to my grandmother. “Of the Lupu clan.” My gaze passed over the midnight-blue double oven range my father had imported directly from Italy when he busted out the back wall and extended the kitchen to please his mother and wife. The chrome from the state-of-the-art appliances gleamed under the bronze farmhouse lights.
We are the Lupus, the Romanian upstarts who quickly rose to the top of the New York City mafias. The speed of our rise was a point of embarrassment for the Bratva, the Russian mafia, and the main reason why they’re so intent on destroying us. As for the Italians, they were a shadow of what they were before the takedowns and trials of the ’90s. Which had left a vacuum for my father to fill when he arrived in New York, solidifying our foothold in Sunnyside, Queens. Better known now as “Little Bucharest.”
Returning my attention to Bunica, I reminded her, “Enemies? Remember them? Why do I need to mention this? It’s not like you don’t know what I’m talking about. She’s in real danger.”
She let out a cackle as she whipped out a bottle of palinca, a traditional Romanian spirit from the region she came from. Plunking down two small glasses, she poured two shots and pushed one over the kitchen island to me. The other, she threw back like a pro.
“What’s obvious to everyone but you and your mother is that Tasa is her own woman. She’s smart, and she’s not going to get caught by some two-bit mafie idiot. She’ll be fine.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She was too relaxed by far, considering her youngest grandchild had just run off to god-knows-where.
“What do you know?” I demanded.
Fluttering her wrinkled hand weakly in front of her chest, she lied without a shred of remorse, “Who? Little old me? Why, nothing!”
“You’re as deceitful as the day is long,” I snapped, my patience finally fraying.
“Back off,” she warned, her innocent features turning dark. Ah, there’s the real Bunica. “I don’t happen to know anything, but if I did, you bet your last dollar I wouldn’t tell you. I won’t help you drag her back here and keep her prisoner until she marries that worthless tâmpit, Cristo. Uck. He’s barely a man. And he has a little two-bit hussy of a side piece. Each of you must marry in the familie, but why him? Bah!”
“You’re unbelievable, you know that, right? Come on, out with it,” I insisted, flicking the fingers of my open hand at her.
“Like I said, my lips are sealed.” She made a gesture as if locking her lips together and flinging away an imaginary key.
My jaw clenched. Women. The bane of my existence. And those two stuck together like super glue. It was hopeless on my part to try to sever the unbreakable.
“Fine, then,” I replied, releasing a long, exhausted breath. “You’re not the only person I can press for information.”
Her hand nabbed the sleeve of my jacket, crushing the fine wool between her bony fingers. “Leave that poor girl alone. You know she’s in love with you. Don’t you dare take advantage of her.”
My grandmother was talking about Tasa’s little best friend, the beautiful, supple Nina, of course.
Nina.
Damn, that girl. Smelled like jasmine and a hard fuck waiting to happen. Just the thought of her brought crackling heat to my skin and a stiffness to my cock. That woman was my Achilles’ heel, if ever there was one. Sweet as could be, with large brown eyes and a chest I could face-plant in and suck on for days on end. Annnd…
And she’s also like a sister to you, asshole.
Not.
There wasn’t a shred of brotherly feelings toward that little minx. Unless one included the taboo kind.
