Chapter 24
Maximo
Sitting in my home office, I read more of Elena’s book on my computer.
I’m almost finished with what she has uploaded to the publishing app that I took offline, and I’m so hooked that I know once I reach the end, I’ll be begging her for the rest of the story.
The heroine has just been dealt a huge betrayal from those closest to her and I’m nearing the end.
This story can’t end like this. I thought this was a damn romance—where’s the happy ending?
My cell rings, jolting me out of fantasy land and back to reality. I answer it with a sharp, “Hello?”
“The team’s finished reviewing what footage we have of the attack.
The hit looks like it was for the both of you.
They weren’t exactly trying to spare anyone’s lives.
” Lazaro delivers the news in his usual casual manner.
No matter if he’s talking about the weather or assassination attempts, he uses the same tone.
I often wonder if anything gets under his skin.
“Where did it come from? Who’s trying to take us out?
” I hate the fact that the hit included Elena as a target.
Even though I was the one to tell her how being a mafia princess in New York put a target on her back.
I was trying to scare her at the time, so she’d behave and accept my protection, not predict her future.
If I can help it, I’ll never put her in danger like that again. Her guard has been doubled, I’ve reinforced security measures on this building, and everyone’s on high alert until we find and eradicate this threat.
“We don’t know for sure,” Lazaro drawls. “Never got a look at their faces. No license plates. I bet it’s the Irish. Those Monahans are new and trying to take over more of our turf. I guarantee they’re the ones who did this.”
I have my doubts, but I don’t want to argue with my underboss right now.
“Keep an open mind, and let me know of any developments.”
“Yes, sir.” He hangs up, leaving me to ponder the situation.
Trouble’s been lurking around every corner for a while now. But an attempt on my and Elena’s lives is far more extreme than missing shipments of counterfeit luxury items. First they went after Enzo, and now us. Who’s next?
Since whoever’s behind this is targeting the dons’ families, I can only assume it’s an outside threat with insider information. We’ll find the traitor. I have no doubt about that.
In the meantime, I can start by ruling out one suspect. Scrolling through my contacts I find Damien Monahan’s number and tap it. The phone rings three times before he finally answers.
“What?”
The harsh greeting has me smirking. “It’s good to hear your voice, Damien. Did I interrupt something important?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
I roll my eyes. “You really need to save my contact in your phone, it’s only been… what? Fifteen years or so?”
“I’m getting my cock sucked. Call you back in ten.
” The call ends and I shake my head at my phone.
Fucking Damien. He hasn’t changed since we met in our freshmen year of high school.
Him from Ireland and me from Italy. For reasons that are still unclear to me, we became fast friends at the private boarding school in Austria.
Of course after we graduated, we sank deeply into our respective roles with our own families. But we never lost touch.
Would our families be concerned to know that we communicated somewhat regularly?
Perhaps. Loyalties would be questioned for sure.
Neither of us want to deal with that, so we’ve kept our friendship private.
Damien has taken that to the extreme by refusing to save my number in his phone. He was always paranoid.
Exactly ten minutes later, my phone rings. “Did you get off?” I answer, knowing it’s him without having checked the screen.
“I haven’t come that hard since Miranda. Remember her? Best blow jobs of my life.”
I chuckle. “If you say so.” Sobering, my light mood evaporates. “I’m calling for business not pleasure.”
“Okay. What’s up?”
“You or your uncles wouldn’t happen to be trying to kill me?” I listen carefully to detect any deception in Damien’s voice. Though we both know it’s no use lying to each other—we know each other too well.
He chuckles. “Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why the fuck would we want you dead? We’re settled in, business is good even though we’re straighter than ever with both the FBI and IRS. Why the fuck would we start a war with the Italians? We’re not that stupid.”
Just as I thought.
“Any idea on who would put a hit out on me and my fiancée?” I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling.
“So you finally got her pinned down? Ring and all?”
“I did. Sorry I can’t send you an invitation to the wedding.”
“No worries. Wedding’s make me horny, and I’m trying to do less fucking around and more work these days.”
Even though he can’t see it, I arch a brow.
“Don’t fucking judge me, Max. Yeah, today’s blow job was a moment of weakness, so sue me. Any way, to answer your question, no one wants to fuck with the Italians other than the Italians.”
I take that in for a moment. “So you think this threat’s coming from within?”
“I’d put money on it. Ask yourself: Which Italians are you pissing off these days? Does anyone come to mind?”
I grunt. “Good talk.”
“Later.”
Setting my cell down, I gaze out the window. Damien has a good sense about these things, and I probably should have called him sooner. If he thinks it’s one of my own people, I should look there.
Unfortunately, as I think about who’s displeased with me, the list comes up short. Maybe I’m missing some vital information. Especially when I consider that this threat isn’t only against me and mine, it involves all four families. Who has a grudge against us all?