Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
MATTEO
I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Taking it out, I open the message I just got.
Unknown number: Hey, asshole. You can call off your dogs. Having someone follow me home at night isn’t fucking cool.
Dogs? Who the fuck is this?
Me: Who is this?
Three little bubbles pop up, letting me know the person is typing, not even thirty seconds after I sent it.
Unknown number: Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Me: No, I’m not fucking kidding you. How did you get this number?
Unknown number: You gave it to me, jackass.
I gave it to them?
Oh, fuck.
Me: Wren?
I watch the bubble with three dots pop up and disappear for a moment before it pops up again. Probably thinking of a more creative way of telling me to fuck off. She’s a feisty thing.
Unknown number: Are you high again? Yes, it’s fucking Wren.
I snort.
See? Feisty.
Me: I’m sorry, Wren; unfortunately for you, I’m not high. I guess I should have known the attitude pouring through my screen was from you. What can I do for you?
Unknown number: Someone just tried to put me in a box.
Me: I don’t even know what that means.
Unknown number: It means that someone just stalked me home from my place of work. I’m pretty fucking positive if they had caught me, I would be chopped up into little pieces right now. Just waiting to be eaten. My finger would probably already be en route to your doorstep .
The smile I didn’t know had crept onto my face falls.
The thought of Wren in any sort of danger has my gut clenching. She’s just so… Wren. And that's unsettling because when in my life have I ever been concerned about someone other than my family having a problem? Never. The idea of her being hurt just isn’t possible in my mind.
Me: Are you okay?
The bubble pops up and disappears again. Almost a whole minute passes before it appears again.
The need to drive over to her shitty apartment and see with my own two eyes if she’s okay is almost overbearing.
Unknown number: Yes.
Me: Let’s meet somewhere tomorrow, and you can tell me what happened. Are you safe now?
Unknown number: I think so. Mark stopped him for me. Meet at The Drip at noon?
Who the fuck is Mark?
My jaw clenches before I start typing.
Me: See you then.
I quickly save Wren in my phone before tossing it down on the table, rubbing my hands down my face.
“Problem? ”
My eyes shoot to Alessio as I glare at him. “What the fuck is The Drip?”
“It’s a coffee shop. Why?”
“Wren wants to meet me there tomorrow. She said someone followed her home from work tonight, and I’m getting the feeling that she thinks it’s my fault.”
“Is she just being paranoid?” Alessio asks, looking about as confused as I’m feeling. It’s a fair question. A woman shouldn’t be walking alone at night, especially in that area.
“I don’t think so. She said some guy named Mark,” God, I want to cut this bastard's eyelid off already, “stopped him from doing anything. Now, what does that entail? I have no fucking clue. I’ll find out at The Drip tomorrow.”
“I know you’re thinking this might have something to do with what happened the other night, but what if it doesn’t? What if all of this is a coincidence? She’s an attractive woman walking home alone in a rough part of the city. Any creep would pick up on that. You said she works at DD’s, right?” Alessio asks, waiting for my nod of confirmation before continuing. “It could have been some creepy fucking customer that had the hots for her and waited for her shift to be finished.”
“What creepy fucking customer?” Gio asks as he enters the kitchen.
I let out a sigh. Just what I need, another person knowing about this. Being the head of the family means I constantly have my men coming and going.
“The woman that found Matteo thinks we have someone trying to hurt her,” Alessio answers for me.
I shoot a glare in his direction before responding, “She doesn’t have all of the facts. And Alessio brought up some good points. She is attractive, and she works in a biker bar.”
“She better not think it’s us. What the fuck is wrong with her? Everyone knows we don’t harm women,” Gio grunts, offended on my behalf. “The dude she’s fucking? Yeah. Never the woman herself.” Gio shakes his head.
I can’t help but snicker. Gio is my … enforcer of sorts. If someone doesn’t pay, I send Gio. If someone rats, I send Gio. Ev en though he’s my little brother, my own flesh and blood, I have no fucking clue where he got his blood thirst from. I mean, we all have it given our profession, but Gio takes it to a whole new level. The man actually starts to get depressed if he hasn’t been able to torture someone in a while.
“She won’t once I’m done talking to her.”
At a place called The Drip. Fucking great.