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“I just wanted to call you because I knew you’d worry,” she says, and I sit up in the bed and wonder what the hell is going on. “Mal and I are heading to the States. There’s some crap going on with his family and he needs to be there.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my heart pounding a mile a minute.
Raylee is my best friend, my sister. I’d be lost without her. We grew up together. I was with her through her toughest times, and she with mine. In the past six months we’ve not been able to see each other much, but we still call at least four times a week, and have a weekly video call so I can see my nieces and nephews.
“Yeah, just Makenna’s husband having a little trouble with some work.”
Makenna is Raylee’s aunt-in-law. The Gallagher family is a weird dynamic. There’s aunts, cousins, and nieces and nephews the same age. It’s crazy, but they love each other very much. I have only met Malcolm and his father, Denis, who both are sweet as pie, even though they’re gangsters.
“Know that feeling. Dad’s having some trouble here too.” When Alessio was hurt, Dad was furious. He wants Nikolai’s head on a platter. No one comes into Denver and takes out a hit on a guest of his. He’s furious, but Alessio’s brother has said that things between them have been settled. There’s a compromise, and Dad’s not happy.
“Guess it’s a bad week all around. Makenna’s brother-in-law was shot while he was in Denver. Did you hear?”
My blood runs cold at her words. “What was his name?”
“He’s still alive,” Raylee tells me. “Alessio was badly injured, but he’s home now.”
“Whoa,” I say, unable to breathe. “Is Alessio Bianchi related to you?”
She makes a humming noise. “Yes. He’s Makenna’s husband’s brother. Dante is really close with both his brothers, and with Holly marrying Romero, they’re all pretty close. They have a bond that’s something even I’m jealous of, and I have a great relationship with my brothers.”
I go silent, unable to comprehend what she’s saying. How the hell did I not know that the Bianchi family and the Gallagher’s were related? I’ve heard stories from Ray-Ray about the anticsMakenna’s brother-in-law got up to. But they always called him Ales, not Alessio. I never made the connection.
“Gab, is everything okay?”
I wipe my eyes when I feel the wetness coating my cheek. Why the hell am I crying? “Yeah, sorry, I haven’t been feeling well lately and I’m tired.”
“Oh no, I should have texted before I called. Go get some rest and I’ll talk to you later. I’m hoping that while we’re in the States, Mal and I can make a pitstop in Denver.”
I smile, happy that I may be able to spend time with her. “That would be great.”
“Awesome,” she breathes. “I’ll talk to Mal, and we’ll get it sorted. Feel better soon, Gab. I love you.”
I close my eyes as my heart fills with warmth. “I love you too. Give the kids a kiss from me. I’ll talk to you later, bye.”
The call ends, and I stare at the wall, trying to process everything I’ve just learned. Alessio Bianchi isn’t just a dangerous man, he’s one of the most dangerous men in the world. He has more connections than most of the bosses put together.
I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do now. I want the man, my body craves him, but I don’t know if I can handle the life he lives—the disappointments—and the broken promises.
I have a week. One week to think-out my options and decide what I should do next.
Do I try with Alessio, or do I walk away?
Chapter 6
Alessio
Six weeks later
Iwalk through our club, Dynamite. My shoes are soaked with the blood that flows like a fucking river from the bodies that litter the ground. Rage pulses through my body as I take in the innocent faces of the ones who lost their lives. Tonight was one of our busier nights. A Friday night is always good for people to come out and unwind after a week of work or college. They wanted time to chill and have fun—now they’re lying on the dirty club floor. Dead.
I scan the room for survivors, listening for a sound, a mumble, a groan, a cry for help. But it's no use, they're all dead. Anyone who was alive, has already gone. As soon as the gunmen opened fire, they ran for their lives—something no one would ever blame them for. Had they stayed, they’d be just like all the others who are scattered across the floor.
I turn on my heels and reach for my cell, then hit Dante’s number. My brother is going to be pissed.
“What?” he snarls as he answers my call. No doubt I’m taking his time away from his wife—something he hates anyone doing.
“We've got a problem,” I inform him on a growl. “The club was hit. The cops should be here any minute.”
