Obsession (Sinners of New Orleans #3)

Chapter 29

TWENTY-NINE

Adrian

I meet Sam Costello behind the bars of the Orleans Parish Prison. As his lawyer, we get to bypass the picnic tables meant for general visits, so instead I’m led to a private room to wait for my client. They bring Sam in with cuffs around his wrists that the guard promptly undoes. The Costello heir gives him a cheeky smile as he hooks the cuffs to this belt and leaves us be.

I don’t really want to be here. I want to be back home, fucking my new wife. I’m addicted to her—the taste of her pussy, the sounds she makes when I’m inside her. But I need to focus on the plan. Take down the Costello famiglia.

I was never supposed to become addicted to my sweet little blue-haired minx. And here I am, thinking about her at every turn.

Rubbing his newly freed wrists, Sam turns and looks at me. Outside these walls, I always found the man to be intimidating, but the orange jumpsuit makes him less imposing. He eyes me for a long moment, stretching out his arms before he takes the seat across from me.

“Adrian Russo.” He says my name, and I can’t help but feel there’s a threat lingering behind it. This isn’t the first time we’ve met, though our other meetings always included Marcus, and I was only there as his attorney, the lawyer who did his bidding.

The tides have turned now with Marcus gone. I don’t feel fear, though, no, the feeling that tingles beneath the surface of my skin is still hatred. I’m determined to bring this family down as a consequence of what they did to my family. But so many years of keeping that anger in check have numbed it. And I would be dumb if I didn’t feel at least a hint of fear. A sliver of self-preservation.

“Samuel Costello.”

Sam grins, his elbows hitting the table. “So you’re my lawyer now, huh?”

I nod. In front of me on the shiny silver prison table sits a yellow legal pad and black pen. Sam looks them over, and then trails his eyes up my Tom Ford suit until they reach my face where he meets my gaze.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?”

That makes him chuckle as he leans back against the metal chair he’s seated in. “No, I guess I didn’t.” In another setting, outside of the poorly fitted prison uniform, I think Sam Costello would be charming. Marcus never found him as such, and their interactions never went well, both cousins normally acting out of anger.

“So…” I lean back in my seat, matching his posture. “You wanted me here.”

“I did.” He nods in agreement. “But first, I know about your father.” Sam’s stoic, watching my reaction.

My heart thumps loudly in my chest, and I can feel a bead of sweat forming on my forehead. It takes effort not to show him how those words affect me. No one in this family has ever mentioned my father. It’s not like I went out of my way to hide it or anything; we have the same last name, for Christ’s sake. But not one other person has put those two pieces together.

Except Sam.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” Sam continues. “I think I can put the pieces together and you can tell me if I’m right. Yeah?” He doesn’t wait for me to agree. “You were what, ten when your father was killed? Kids have a way of making up their own realities when they’re not given other facts. That’s not me speculating, that’s just psychology.” He gives me another one of his charming smiles, and I think I want to puke. I didn’t make up my reality after my father was murdered.

“So, your dad was a dealer for la famiglia, but he got picked up. Back then, Big Al was running product, and he didn’t care much for people, but he did care about protecting the family. So he wouldn’t have even tried to get your father out—no, instead he went right to cutting his losses. He had your father killed in prison so he couldn’t rat on him. Sound right?”

I purse my lips together, not wanting to give him anything. But his story is right. My father sold drugs for Big Al Ricci, and when he was caught, he wound up dead before a court date was ever even set.

Sam nods, knowing he’s right. “So then my guess is little Adrian didn’t like that. After all, your ma was already gone, leaving you and Federico orphans. I know, you’re nonna took you in; she’s a good woman.”

My jaw tightens when he talks about Nonna. Sam must sense it because he puts his hands up defensively.

“I’m just telling a story,” he muses. “So then what? You’re left to create this story about why my family is the devil. The scum of the earth. The enemy, if you will. You probably plotted for twenty years on how to take us down. And here you are, consigliere, married into the family — you’re well on your way.” He pauses, one eyebrow lifting as he watches me. “Am I right?”

There’s an ache in my jaw from how hard I’m clenching it.

“Here’s the thing, Adrian.” Sam leans forward, elbows resting on the metal table, his voice serious. “If your father had worked for mine, I guarantee he wouldn’t be dead. Because my father would have tried to get him off. And if he didn’t, then he would have been protected in prison. There are many dealers who came after your father who can attest to that. This family is broken, cracked right down the fucking middle. You just happen to be on the side that’s infected with disease. You want to burn them down? I’ll hand you the fucking matches. But on this side? Me and John? We don’t behave like animals.”

His words take a moment to process in my brain. Everything’s moving slowly since he brought up my father and all the memories that came up with it. Is he right? If my father had only worked for Junior, would he still be alive?

“Who killed Big Al?” I don’t know why I ask the question. I don’t know why I think it’s important. But I know he didn’t just blow himself up; that man had been making bombs for years.

A sly smile stretches across Sam’s lips. “Depends. Have you picked a side? Because we’re going to war, Adrian. And I’m happy to tell you all our secrets, but I need to know you’re devoted. So, are you?”

Am I? Am I devoted to this family that took everything from me? No, absolutely not. But there’s a part of me that wants to trust Sam. I can’t, though. Not when I know what this family has done to mine and countless others. But words are just that, words. I can promise him now and stab him in the back later. God knows that’s what they did to my dad.

“Yes,” I tell him.

“My father blew him up with one of his own bombs.”

Air swooshes from my lungs. Does Madi know that’s how her father was murdered? By his own family with his own bomb?

“That seems fitting.”

Sam chuckles. “So, now that we got that out of the way. How are you going to get me out of here?”

When I finally leave Orleans Parish Prison, I have a mix of emotions. I tug off my tie in the car and inhale a deep breath. Sam is sending me to New York to meet with reinforcements. Apparently, there’s a fixer out there who’s loyal to him and will help me come up with a plan to get him out of prison. I’m so close to getting what I want; I can still fuck Sam over, can still take down this entire family.

But right now, all I can think about is getting back to Madi.

She’s on the couch when I get home, her feet propped up on the coffee table while she flips through some shitty gossip magazine. Gray sweatpants cover her legs and the matching top is too short, exposing her stomach. Her blue hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She smiles when she sees me.

Absolutely fucking gorgeous.

I don’t take my time with her tonight, not when every fiber of my being just needs to be inside her. I don’t even take her upstairs like a gentleman. Instead, I rip the magazine from her hands and toss it to the side, flipping her over so she’s draped over the arm of the couch and pull off the sweats.

“Adrian-”

“Shh.” I hush whatever she was about to say. “I need to be inside you, princess. Any objections?”

I give her a moment to answer while I free my cock from my slacks, but I take her silence as consent, and once I’m free, I push deep inside her.

We both groan with the feeling as her tight pussy grips my cock. Fucking her clears all the noise from my head, silences all my demons. Who knew that I would find solace in the pussy of the daughter of the man who killed my father?

I take her rough and hard and relish the way she moans through it, loving every second.

“Touch yourself,” I demand, and her small hand moves to her wet clit, rubbing frantically. “Come,” I say once I know she’s close. “Come for me, princess. Show me what a good girl you are.”

I can tell when she comes, the sound from her lips is sweet and loud and her pussy squeezes me. I follow her over that cliff, letting her milk every drop from my cock until we collapse together on the couch.

Madi wraps her arms around me and presses a soft kiss to my lips.

For a moment, I think I don’t deserve her sweetness, not when I’m still planning to ruin her family. Will she still want me after that? She says she hates them…but she also said she hated me and now look at her.

“What's going on?” she asks, tapping my forehead with her pointer finger. “I think you’re lost in here.”

She’s right. I am lost in my head. I thought fucking her would right me, but even that can’t clear the thoughts that Sam provoked. I was doing so well, keeping everything neatly organized, tucked away in their own mental boxes. But now it feels like everything has come out, chaos swarms around in my head and my plans feel muddy at best.

“I met your cousin Sam today.”

Madi’s lips form a perfectly round O. “Oh, and how did that go?”

I don’t answer her question. “If you had to pick a side…” I trail off, but Madi knows exactly where I’m going.

“Sam,” she says quickly, no hesitation. “I would pick Sam’s side.”

“Why?” I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s told me over and over what she thinks of her mother, and I saw firsthand how her brother treated her.

“Sam has always been good to me. He and John got Lana out of her arranged marriage; they actually care about us. My family just sees me as a pawn in their game. I trust Sam.”

Maybe she’s right, maybe Sam isn’t the bad guy, but he sure as hell isn’t the good guy. Is anyone in this family really good? There’s still blood on his hands.

“He wants me to go to New York City.” Madi’s eyes light up when I say it. That’s where Lana is. “He set Naz up with a family there that could help me get him out of prison. Would you like to go with me? You can see your cousin.”

“Yes,” she answers quickly with a blinding smile.