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Sure enough, the moment I try harder to yank my hand away, Damien is on his feet and putting himself between us.
I see the man in black only as the knife sinks into Damien’s torso. The stabbing isn’t fatal, but it’s going to hurt like hell while he heals. The man moves quickly, pulling the knife out of Damien and turning toward me.
Tyson comes out of nowhere, grabbing the man in black and tackling him to the ground before my father has a chance to do anything. Tyson takes out a gun and holds it against the man’s side, firing it. The agent falls to the ground as blood seeps out of his body.
Even though I know the blood is fake and the agent is fine, I still feel like throwing up. Watching people die is a reality of growing up in the mafia. My brothers always say that it will get better, but it never does.
“Thank you,” Dad says, eyeing Tyson. Dad extends his hand and Tyson takes it, grasping his hand firmly and shaking it. “I appreciate the help.”
“No worries,” Tyson says, not looking at me. He meets my father’s curious gaze and doesn’t flinch at the four brothers surrounding him. “I saw him come up here. I’ve seen him around before. Typically, meetings with him don’t end well. Don’t worry. I know the bar owner. I’ll take care of the body.”
“Dad, you want me to have a new bodyguard,” I say, crossing my arms as my dad looks at me. “Then I want him.”
Dad looks at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. My brothers are already carrying Damien out of the club. The doctor will be on his way to my family’s estate already. Dad pays him a lot of money to stay available.
“You think that this man is going to be able to protect you?” Dad asks, glancing back at Tyson.
“He saw a threat that all of us missed,” I say, not acknowledging Tyson as he stands beside me. “If you want someone to watch me, he seems like the best option.”
Dad nods, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Tyson. For a moment, I wonder if he recognizes him in the dim club lights. I doubt it. If he recognized Tyson, he never would have shaken his hand.
“Fine. I will have my team run a background check on you before you are welcome into my home. Here is the number for my assistant. He will reach out to you in a few days if I decide that you are a suitable match for my daughter’s security detail.”
Tyson purses his lips and looks down at the card Dad hands him. “I’m not looking for a job.”
Dad smirks and shakes his head. “I’m sure you know what kind of people we are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have pulled out that gun. Now, when my assistant calls you, think twice about refusing his offer. Now, what’s your name?”
“Tyson Crowe.”
I stop my eye roll before it happens. Dad nods at Tyson again, not bothering to say anything as he brushes by him and heads for the stairs. I glance at Tyson over my shoulder, winking before following my dad out of the club.
My heart is hammering on the drive home. Dad is speaking in rapid Italian to someone on his phone and glancing at me every now and then. Even though he smiles when he catches me looking, the smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
As soon as we get home, I head to the medical room to see how Damien is going. My brothers are gathered around his bed and teasing him about his inability to protect himself.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” I say, shoving my brothers out of the way to hug Damien.
He sits up in bed slightly and pulls me into a tight hug. “It will take a lot more than a little butter knife to put me out of commission.”
“I don’t know why we were meeting in the club in the first place,” Salvatore says, staring at the door as he speaks to make sure it isn’t about to open. “Dad knows that this shit isn’t what he should be talking about out in the open.”
“He’s been getting careless,” Matteo says, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about him. If he gets too out of hand, we’re going to have to look at replacing him.”
Damien winces as he leans back in bed. “I don’t know if this is the best time to talk about this.”
“When else would we talk about it?” Gio asks, looking more frustrated than I’ve seen him in a long time. His knuckles are turning white as he clenches his hands. His arms are crossed and his cheeks are red.
“I don’t know,” Damien says, sounding defeated.
I sit on the edge of his bed, looking between my brothers. This is the first time that I’ve ever heard them question the way Dad is running the organization.
“You know sooner or later he’s not going to be able to do it anymore,” Gio says, his tone harsh. “Sooner or later, we have to consider what is best for the family. I’m starting to think that it’s not our father.”
“He murdered my best friend to keep me in line,” I say, not looking at my brothers.
“Your best friend was also a traitor,” Damien says. “But I don’t agree with taking care of her in front of you. Even people who have been sentenced to death at the hand of our father deserve to die with dignity.”
Guilt rushes through me as my brothers talk about the dreams they have for the family. For so long, they’ve treated me like the baby. They never discussed the family business in front of me or the way they thought our father was wrong.
