6. Chapter 6
Kingsley
What kind of guy was the owner of this club that he had a military-grade security system?
The muscles in my shoulders tensed when I followed Harley from the secret passage through the black steel door.
We emerged in a windowless but spacious and luxurious office.
The charcoal silk carpet muffling our steps and LED lights along the ceiling reminded me of Aaron’s—my father’s—walk-in closet. Bet he didn’t have that in prison.
Harley’s boss lounged in an executive chair, feet—I used to have Brunello Cucinelli leather shoes like that—crossed at the ankles and propped on a heavy oak desk.
His gaze was fixed on a laptop as he twirled a knife between his tattooed fingers.
With the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up, revealing inked forearms, and the black vest, he could’ve easily starred in a Mafia movie.
“Hey, Rome.” Harley stepped up to his desk, hands clasped in front of her.
Mine still tingled from her touch. I bought her statement that she hadn’t thought anything of it, but that didn’t change how it had made me feel. The electricity that had charged through me. The warmth pulling all the way into my gut.
The craving for more.
What is wrong with you, man? I wasn’t supposed to like the feeling the touch of a woman evoked in me. And I most definitely wasn’t supposed to dwell on it.
Yet I couldn’t get it out of my system.
“Who is he?” Rome pointed his knife at me without looking up.
His raven hair was slicked back, his amber eyes hard.
A scar stretched across his neck including his carotid artery.
No doubt the man had seen more in his thirty-something years than most people did in their entire life.
Given he was the owner of the most luxurious club on the island, I’d expected him to be older.
“I’m Brother Samuel—”
The knife came flying out of nowhere, nearly shaving off my hair as it sliced past my head. A soft thud followed from behind me. It must have found its target in the bookshelf next to the door.
“Are you crazy?” Harley’s eyes were wide as saucers as she stared at her boss, then at me, then back at him. “What if he would’ve moved?”
“Didn’t even bat an eye.”
Harley stomped her foot. “He is not a threat, Romeo Marino.”
Her sharp tone took me aback. Pretty bold to talk to your boss like that.
“Let me make that decision.” He pointed behind me. “Wanna grab me the knife?”
Heart jackhammering, I turned and headed to the bookshelf.
The knife stuck in one of the boards sporting several dents.
Looked like knife throwing wasn’t an unusual occurrence in this room.
I pulled it out, then returned to Rome, who now stood.
I flipped it and caught the blade. Extended the knife to Rome, handle first.
He took it without breaking eye contact. “You sure you’re a monk?”
“No, I just like running around in a habit.”
That provoked a smirk. He gestured at the two seats in front of his desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Can I take a few days off?” Harley plopped into the seat on the left.
I lowered myself into the right, the leather squeaking under me. It had been a while since I’d sat in something so luxurious.
“What’s a few?” Rome folded his hands on the desk, the rosary inked on his right forearm catching my eye. Interesting. As was the small golden cross dangling from his left earlobe.
Harley shrugged. “I don’t know. As many as you’ll grant me.” She glanced at me. “I’d like to stay a few days at Saint James Monastery.”
“Saint James Monastery.” Rome reached for the knife again and twirled it between his fingers. “What’s happening there?”
“Nothing. That’s the whole point, though. I need a break from this crazy life.”
Rome let out a grunt. “You haven’t taken a vacation since working for me. Never taken sick leave. I’ll give you two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
“Three better?”
“What? No! Two weeks is . . . long.” Harley once again eyed me. “Can I stay that long?”
“I’ll have to ask Father Cruz.” He’d most definitely say yes.
I resisted the urge to hold onto my rosary for dear life. I liked Harley, I really did. Did I want her to stay with us? Yes, yes I did. It was an opportunity to find out more about her faith. Maybe draw her closer to God.
Yet I didn’t. Her presence messed with me. The way she’d moved her body to the music, her surprisingly bubbly personality when she felt safe, and her feistiness . . . This woman was addicting in the worst possible way.
If I wasn’t careful, she’d be my downfall.
“Does this have anything to do with your ex?” Rome’s gaze drilled into Harley. “Don’t even think about lying to me, Raines.”
She wrung her hands in her lap. “Yes, but I’m overreacting. Craig is just . . . being extra.”
I almost objected. The guy was dangerous. I had no idea what he’d done that had her so spooked, but obviously it had to be bad if a guy like Rome didn’t scare her.
“What did Fuller do, Harley?” Rome’s question sounded a lot like a threat.
“He was in my apartment this morning—”
Rome stabbed the knife into the desk.
“Don’t do anything to him. Please.” The sigh Harley emitted brimmed over with exhaustion. “I don’t need him dead, okay? And not in the hospital either. I’ll just lie low for a while until he comes to his senses.”
The intensity rolling off Rome mirrored my own emotions.
If her ex was after her, I wanted him taken care of.
Not in a violent way—which the guy opposite me probably would opt for—but legally.
But without knowing what was going on, I couldn’t do anything.
Not to mention Harley refused to get the police involved, which, whatever that Craig guy had on her, made sense.
“Rome, promise me you won’t do anything.” Harley leaned in as if wanting to hypnotize him.
“You know I don’t make those kinds of promises. Especially if you don’t tell me why he was in your apartment.”
She closed her eyes. Shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I heard about Gino. Does this mean you’re the next don?”
I almost choked on my own breath. Don? As in, Mafia don? So the guy didn’t just look like a Mafia member, he was one?
The muscles in my shoulders knotted even more. What kind of connections did Harley have? No, this wasn’t a connection. Those two were friends. Or more?
“ No lo so. My niece has priority. Everything else follows.”
“I’m sorry, Rome. I know how bad you want to get out.”
He dropped his chin to his chest, several strands of black hair falling into his eyes. “It is what it is. Anything else?”
“Nope. Thank you so much. I’ll be praying for you.” Harley rose.
I was about to follow suit when Rome gestured for me to stay seated. “Harley, give me and the monk a minute.”
Her red eyebrows shot up. “Okay?” Walking backward, she kept taking us in until she’d reached the door. Her eyes stayed locked onto us until the very last second. Was it me she didn’t trust, or Rome?
Silence and the smell of leather hung in the air as Rome and I stared each other down for a full minute. I didn’t want any beef with the guy. Not with anyone ever, but most definitely not with the Mafia. As a kid, I’d heard all the crazy tales. Now I was pretty sure they were true.
“Can you protect her?” Rome eyed my habit.
“I’ll do whatever necessary to keep her safe.”
“You need firearms? Knives?”
The idea of me showing up at the monastery with a pistol or rifle made me grin inwardly. Former cartel member or not, I doubted Father Cruz would appreciate me playing Rambo. “A nuke would be helpful.”
“Not sure if I have one of those in stock. Gotta check first.”
“Sure, take your time.”
Rome smirked, then sobered quickly. “You got any idea what her ex did?”
I shook my head. “She climbed the walls of our monastery last night. Was pretty spooked. I let her spend the night while pulling security. No one showed up.”
The chair creaked when Rome leaned back. He wet his lips. “You’re an honorable man, Brother Samuel.”
“I just did what anyone else would do.”
“No, you did a whole lot more. Something’s wrong with that guy.” Rome opened a drawer and unearthed a black business card with a red cobra embossed on it. He extended it to me. “Call me if she’s in danger or if you ever need someone taken care of.”
“I don’t have access to a phone.” I took it anyway.
“You might at some point.”
I didn’t object. “May the Lord bless you and keep you.”
“You, too.”
I had made it to the door when he cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t it be funny if my brother and your father ended up being cellmates?”
My heartbeat slowed. This was him saying he knew who I was. What family I came from.
I glanced over my shoulder. “God has that kind of humor.”
When Harley and I settled in the F-150, my shoulders ached like they did after a full day of yard work. Leaving the monastery always had me on edge because I didn’t like the secular world, but what’d just gone down was . . . I was ready to get back to Saint James.
“Did you grow up here?” I asked as I pulled into traffic on Velvet Drive. The way she had her bare feet propped up on the dashboard made me smile. She obviously felt comfortable. Safe.
“No, I’m from the mainland. I grew up in an RV.
My parents and I traveled a lot because they were in a band and always on tour, so no place or state was really home.
I moved here three years ago because I wanted to settle down somewhere, and Darkwater Refuge has it all: beautiful beaches, shopping, delicious food, exciting hiking trails. And . . . I needed a new beginning.”
Skyscrapers and the occasional palm tree defying the concrete rolled by, and we once again passed the headquarters of Lincoln Grady Distillery.
Keaton’s ice-gray Porsche was parked in front of the luxurious glass tower.
He sometimes came up to Saint James, and we talked for hours.
Baptizing him a couple of months ago after he’d turned his back on his secular life had been one of the best moments of my life.
I glanced over at Harley. “A band?”