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“No! Angelo! Swim to the boat! Come quickly, please!” His screams were muted as the powerful engine burst to life. Luca jumped up, hysterical, as he pointed at a dorsal fin cutting through the water.
“No, Dad! Help him! There’s a shark! Help... no!”
Luca’s cries continued as the boat sped off. He persisted to plead with Marco to save his brother. To turn back... all to no avail. He fell to his knees between the seats, horrified at the vision of the number of shark fins he’d seen approaching his defenseless brother who’d paid no attention to them. Instead he’d watched the boat disappear.
“Angelo! Angelo!”
Luca started as the sound of his voice ripped him from the nightmare— the same one he’d been having for the past thirty-five years. He stared through the window at the hills. The silver shafts of moonlight cast its pitch-black shadows across the landscape. He closed his eyes as the sound of his brother’s voice echoed in his mind— like it always did after the dream. Accusing, sad, and empty. It was always the same.
"Why did you let me die, Luca? How could you let him kill me?'
The horror of the nightmare rippled through Luca. The trauma of witnessing his father leave his brother to be killed in such a brutal way had forever destroyed the innocent young boy inside him. At the young age of eight, he became an empty shell. He was reminded of that day every morning when he looked in the mirror and saw the sadness reflected in his eyes. He carried an impenetrable sorrow that had robbed him of the ability to feel compassion.
It took him years to realize why Marco had taken him along that day. It had been the first lesson he’d been taught about the world of the Mafia. Oppose him and he wouldn't hesitate to end your life— no matter who or what you were to him. It was also the day the chatterbox, carefree, and smiling young boy ceased to exist. He molded himself into a replica of his father, except he was colder and as impassive as a rock.
He had felt sorry for his brother Rocco when he was born ten months after Angelo’s death and even more for Stefano, eight years after that. To him, they were nothing other than young soldiers to be trained like he had been, to serve the American Mafia.
Pawns on a chessboard of whom Marco Boneiro was the master.
Chapter Nine
“I love you to bits, Kezlin but that asshat is cramping our style.” Knox crossed her legs as she sat down at the boardroom table at the Red Reign PI Agency’s offices.
“You’re telling me! Total asshole.” She snorted irritably. “Luckily, he’s not my real brother.”
Paxton smiled at Kezlin’s response. She lambasted anyone who dared refer to him as such. To her, he was her brother, period. Her parents adopted him as a fifteen-year-old teenager before she was born. They all knew she adored Jared.
“Funny how I’m not your real brother when you don’t get your way, squirt.”
Kezlin wasn’t at all perturbed at being caught red-handed. She peeked at Jared over her shoulder. “At least you acknowledge you’re an asshole,” she said.
“And you’re wasting my time,” he muttered as he sat down next to her. He looked at Paxton sitting at the head of the table. “I’m all ears, Mrs. Lee.”
Paxton raised her eyebrows. “You wormed your way into my team, Bates. In the future, make sure you arrive on time for our meetings. I don’t appreciatemytime being wasted.”
He suppressed a smile. It was a thirty-minute drive to Oyster Bay with no traffic. During rush hour in the morning, over an hour. Something she must know since she didn’t live too far from him.
“Of course. My apologies. Next time, I’ll be sure to have the chopper on standby. At least that way I’ll be on time after being informed of a meeting ten minutes ahead of time.”
She crossed her arms. Her eyes flashed as she stared him down.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Commander Bates, but weren’t you the one who emphatically told me you were now on my team and would be working the case with us?” She straightened as he nodded. “To me, that means you follow the same rules as the rest of my girls. We have set working hours, daily feedback meetings and training sessions, all of which Jordan assured me she discussed with you yesterday.”
“You are correct. I’ve been tardy and I apologize.”
Paxton’s fixed glare issued a warning. The disingenuous tone of his voice triggered her anger. If there was one thing she abhorred, it was being mocked. Jared Bates did a poor job of hiding it.
“Don’t patronize me, Bates. If you insist on being part of the Red Reign PI team, it would be wise to remember that I’m your boss. Either you respect that or you leave.”
He held up his hands. “Accepted. It won’t happen again. I’m one-hundred-percent on board from this moment on.”
“Jordan, let’s start, please.”
“If you insist, although I have to admit watching the electric tête-à-tête between the two of you is much more interesting than—” she laughed at the killing stare Paxton shot at her. “Right. Let’s begin with the different properties Bastian Conti owns.” She flicked her finger over the iPad she held in her hand. Images of four houses appeared on the large monitor against the wall. “Top left is the family home in Pacific Palisades.” She looked at Paxton. “The interesting fact is that it’s a couple of blocks away from the house where Courtney Wilson was found.”
“That in itself is a coincidence. Many celebrities live in that suburb. It’s the elite place to be in San Francisco.”
“Top right is the family holiday home in Santa Monica where they spend one weekend of every month as well as a couple of weeks during summer holidays when they’re not vacationing abroad.” She gestured to the two-story house at the bottom left. “That’s the one Hannah Conti believes Bastian set up for his lover.”
