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CHAPTER6
Valentin
The late morning heat was entirely different than usual, the sun burning down fiery hot, the cloudless sky creating a somber glow around everything.
By all rights I should be in a foul mood, still reeling from the realization Filip Adamos had ordered the execution of several of my men. Brando had managed to confirm it by visiting with two of our most trusted informants. Casimine had obviously shifted some of his leadership to his only son. I tasted blood in my mouth, the need to inflict pain and carnage firmly planted in my mind. Even so, a lightness had shifted around several of my synapses, refusing to let go of the sadistic passion from the night before.
The combination was just as dangerous.
I’d been unable to let go of the hunger, my cock aching even as I’d taken a shower only two hours before. I eased from my Mercedes, adjusting my Gucci shades, and glanced toward the sun as another wafting hit of her scent rushed into my nostrils. The woman was far too tantalizing, enough so focusing had been difficult up this point. That couldn’t last, not with attending two of the five funerals after handling Dylan’s punishment.
It was time to play dirty, that much was evident. However, I needed to be careful how I played it. I headed toward Brando, studying my watch. I had a meeting with a fucking Russian in less than thirty minutes. While I loathed the thought of obtaining any assistance from the pigs, in order to keep the peace, I’d inform my new brother-in-law of the current activity. Nothing said that the Bratva wouldn’t be hit as well.
“Any issue with last night?” I asked as I headed into the warehouse, a storage facility only used by employees of La Travitorria. Today, it was vacant by demand.
Brando snorted as he kept pace. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. A nosy cop but he quickly realized his interests were best served elsewhere.”
“And the ending point?”
“I dropped him outside the gates of Casimine’s house.”
Chuckling, I shook my head and powered through the stockroom heading for the cold storage facility. My second in command had a flair for the dramatic. “An interesting choice. At least that will get his attention. Put word out that I need information on a possible hit made regarding a woman who arrived in Chicago.”
“Is that the reason for the dump last night?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Okay. Who’s this woman?”
I stopped short, taking a minute before answering. “I’m not certain yet. Her name is Cassidy Worthington.” I hated that I hadn’t trusted her, but my instinct had been right. She’d given me a false name as I’d found on her driver’s license. At least she’d been telling the truth about arriving from Chicago only an hour before our meeting. There were myriad reasons why she’d lie, including the fact she’d just witnessed me ending a man’s life. However, I couldn’t take any chances given the recent activity.
Besides, her last name put a bad taste in my mouth. Colin Worthington was the police commissioner, two mayors believing in his ability to clean up the streets. He’d started in one borough, managing to capture enough low-level players that he’d been labeled a hero. The last thing I needed right now was to shift higher on his radar.
It had been too bad I’d yet to convince him to see the light, but he was a virtuous man.
Virtuous like Cassidy.
My instinct continued to leave a bad taste in my mouth.
“Whoa. Please don’t tell me she’s not related to that son of a bitch,” Brando huffed.
“I don’t know, but I need to find out. Even if she is, I’m not certain the attack had anything to do with her father.”
“Fuck. The shit just got deep.”
“We’ll see.”
I stared at the thick vinyl flaps covering the doorway leading to the produce area. The temperature was kept at a constant thirty-five degrees to ensure the freshness of the produce. It seemed like the perfect location to allow Dylan to think about the error of his ways. He was lucky I hadn’t determined his penance the night before. This day was entirely different. A smile broke across my face, a gesture Brando noticed.
“You’re in a damn good mood today.”
“Actually, yes, I am.”
“Uh-huh. Should I ask why?” Brando Lazio knew me better than anyone. I’d considered him a good friend for many years, trustworthy and loyal to a fault.
“Not unless you want to face my wrath.” We both laughed, which was likely the only levity of the day. Depending on if Dylan had found the courage to provide information, and what it was, the outcome could mean a busy night.
“It’s cold in there, boss,” one of my other men called. He was dressed in his winter coat, a stocking cap and gloves and still he was blowing on his hands.
