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Chapter One
Fragments of the detective’s conversation plagued Matteo’s thoughts as he wove through Chicago’s back streets. Hadn’t he left this life years ago because he didn’t like the lies, deceit, and death? Yet here he was going to a woman who did just that. Lied to their faces every day he’d known her. They knew next to nothing about her. Only what third parties drummed up—press and social media mainly.
But he’d fucked her anyway. The first time was to scare her away. The second time was to do anything but scare her away. Yet he’d told her to run while silently begging her to stay. What a messed-up piece of crap he was. He drew pleasure from her body and in the process grew addicted. Yeah, Sevastyan could shove his heavy-handed orders. Matteo had no desire to walk. If anything, he’d screw her every which way to find out every little detail he could about their little liar.
Matteo found a dark part of the street and rolled to a stop outside Rhia’s apartment—her door visible to his left. He grimly surveyed the area. How the hell did a woman like her survive in a place like this? Matteo didn’t like how dark the building was. Light bulbs were treated like the plague here. The street seemed quiet, clean but people came to this side of town for two things—drugs and sex. How she hadn’t fallen on some shady fuckers’ radar seemed a pure miracle.
He angled his head to catch sight of her floor. The lights were off, concealing the numbers along the sides, but he could see the hint of a tall, broad silhouette hovering near the railing on the fourth floor.
Roman.
Shadows clung to his friend’s large frame, but the glow of his cigar gave away his identity as did the random rays of lightning flickering through the night sky. He didn’t know another fucking soul on this planet who wore his hair in a knot at exactly that position every day of his life. It drove women crazy, especially when the man wore it loose. Matteo had noted how it drew Rhia’s eyes and hands. Had his friend tasted the sweetness of their girl without them? Lucky bastard.
Fuck. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Get the fuck back in the game, man.” He cursed at himself. Pussy was the last thing he needed to think about right now.
But Rhia Crowne was more than simple pleasure and he knew it. He rolled her name around in his mind.
The woman with the captivating green eyes had trouble glued to her delectable ass. Something they’d all have to deal with at some point.
They loved another once. All four of them. An irresistible woman like their Rhia. Someone who worked herself between them and then sold their secrets to their enemy. It nearly tore them apart, but only the grit and determination of Sevastyan kept them from spreading to the four corners.
He slammed a fist against the wheel. It carved his heart out to think they stood at the ledge of the same cliff ready to fall over again. He swore to never find himself at the mercy of another woman, but this fucking green-eyed witch had his guts in knots and his dick wanting dark things with her. He craved to feel her throat in his hand as he drove his cock into her. She didn’t realize how the mere scent of her light perfume made the monster in him roar to life.
“Kamara. What’s wrong?”
That night came back to him vividly. The last night he gave a shit about anyone beyond his blood brothers.
Fucking Sevastyan couldn’t stand in one spot when her distressed call came through. They’d worked hard in getting away from Chicago and the claws this city came with. Sevastyan had severed the connection to his family by then, too. Matteo along with Lucian and Roman had backed out of arms dealing and headed West for a time. They’d barely settled into a normal life. Mundane, Lucian liked to call it.
Matteo grunted a laugh. The four of them normal? Never thought it would happen. Guess it hadn’t in the end.
They’d barely settled into their new life of buffing tables and washing shot glasses when the red-haired vixen of their past walked into Sevastyan’s bar. Beautiful and as deceitful as the devil himself. The fling had been instant and wild. Rough and glorious. Months passed and he began to think maybe the normal life could be theirs after all. Sevastyan had talked about proposing.
Matteo had never seen the man trust another soul outside their tight group, but Kamara was different. She made one feel like divulging the darkest of secrets. And they had. Like fools.
Everything was on the table with her. It’s how it had to be with someone you wanted as a wife, Sevastyan had said. So they’d all shared details of their life. Secrets Sevastyan swore he would take to the grave. Things that would ruin the Volkov family. And because they all wanted a life with her with nothing between them, he, Lucian, and Roman had done the same. Trusted her with their souls and life.
He looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling.
And everything had been wonderful. Until it wasn’t. Until their trojan horse revealed her true intentions.
Blood had been everywhere that night. How any could be left in her small body, he didn’t know. He could still see the deep burgundy on the grungy warehouse floor mixed with dirt and debris. Smell the copper scent over the putrid stench of urine. Feel the warmth of her life spilling through his fingers as he cradled her limp body to him.
Matteo shook his head, his stomach pitching, but it was too late. The past rolled over his mind and took him captive.
“Matteo, I’m so sorry.”
Matteo answered his phone on the second ring and the second he brought the phone to his ear her panicked voice came through. Her raspy words tore a hole in his soul.
“Kamara, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“They told me they only want Vastyan’s father.”
“What?”
“They...they’ll let you live. They promised, Matteo. Promised they want only Vastyan to meet them at the docks. One hour. Just him. And then you, me and Lucian, maybe Roman, if he wants...we can go away. Sevastyan can find us. We can all have a life together.”
Muffled voices and grunts came through the phone.
